Fantasy, Writing

A Gift from the Soule

It doesn’t seem like it’s October already. I ended up moving and having so much come up I didn’t write very much. *coughatallcough*

In any case, now things are settling down, I feel the muse bugging me to write again. Ideas have begun to swirl about and I feel the anticipation and excitement of writing. Or at least, that’s how it feels to me. In any case, I won’t be doing a word prompt today, but just the writing exercise of writing and writing for about a page or two. Writing is a much needed break from chickens, gardening, cleaning, moving, schooling, and a host of who knows what I’ve been doing, most of which I’ve forgotten already.

 

 

Staring into the darkness of night, he couldn’t help but feel it had changed. The welcoming folds of night had abandoned him. What had once been his playground, his domain, was empty. It had felt like he had belonged matched only by other predators of the night. Now, as he stood just inside the city limits, he was unsure. Emotions had once been a thing of the past, but now they rushed up threatening to overwhelm him. It was back in the courts when he had last reigned his emotions in putting up his aristocratic mask for all to see, controlled, calm, calculating, stoic.

 

He was so unused to this when it bubbled up he was incredibly distracted with it. His senses telling him what was going on became muddled and useless. Or else, he would have heard him approach.

 

“Wilhelm.” The decidedly male voice broke the almost silence of night. “Master.”

 

He turned around to face his shadow. The other eager waited for any sign his master was approving. His muscles seemed to tremble like a hound ready to be loosed upon the foxes.

 

Even this seemed, changed. His fight with the witch had done more than he had expected. Her range of power had grown since he had last fought her a century ago.

 

“Maxwell of Derlington.” He took a breath. His shadow visibly shivered at the sound of his voice. It was his gift, as all Old Ones had though they differed based on what seemed to be their upbringing. The gift of the thrall was his. If one didn’t know better, they would assume Maxwell was in love with him. “How has my Shadow been doing?” He asked putting his hands behind him in his favored courtly pose.

 

“While you were away, I kept threats away and your cattle fed.” Max’s voice had become breathy. His black hair fell into his face unable to stay behind his ear as he held his bow. Only when his master motioned for him to be at ease did he straighten. “There was only one stray vampire that had infringed on your territory, but he was easily subdued.”

 

Wilhelm turned strolling forward prompting his shadow to take several quick steps to fall into pace beside but behind him. “Good. It would not have been good to lose my territory while I fought the bigger threat.” His heart beat harshly as he remembered the desperate battle of wills. The Witch tried forcing his hand. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. She was, in a way, more broken than before.

 

“And….How did it go, Master?” Max hesitated to ask not wanting to annoy the man. When he answered, his eyebrows went up his mouth dropping open.

 

“Well enough, Shadow. Well enough.”

 

Max couldn’t help but be worried. When he had first approached, he had thought the rushing of blood had been prey. That the scent had been from another. It was from his master. He could hear the blood rushing through his veins without assistance. He could hear the breath in his lungs. He could even hear thee changes in his breath  and pace as they talked. The way only humans did. Was this some sort of test? Was his master trying to teach him in some way? What could it mean? More than these things, he had answered him straight forward and without demeaning him.

 

“Master?” He ventured unsure of this new behavior from the other.

 

“Hm?” Wilhelm turned eyebrows raising as he considered the man.

 

“What happened?” His hand moved as if to reach forward and comfort his master, but he dropped it back at his side.

 

“Not here, Maxwell. We must arrive at the manor. No need to look so alarmed. All is well.” The master vampire continued on the path to his home, but the closer he got. The more he worried the change the witch had made was permanent. Her spell was new to him. Maxwell was more learned even than him. Perhaps, he could assist in finding the spell to find how to counter it. But they would have to work behind closed doors. Should a rival hear of his weakness, there would be no hope.

 

When they arrived at the manor, the place was deserted besides the stray cat who had become too attached to Maxwell. If he would stop feeding it, they wouldn’t have this problem. The shadow was a bleeding heart though.

 

The master vampire led the way to the lower studies where he usually stayed to read, or pass the time away. Keeping pace behind him, Maxwell silently followed hoping for any treat or tips the master could pass on. It was unusual a master tolerated shadows or kept one. THe Old Ones tended to be more reclusive than almost all others. As the world passed by, they could handle it less. For some, it was the noise. For others, it was the rapidly changing culture. Technology twisting lives for better or worse.

 

As soon as the study door was closed, Maxwell turned to his master waiting to hear him speak of what had happened.

 

“Maxwell…” Wilhelm lowered himself into a chair without his usual grace. The journey had strangely tired him. “When I fought her. She…used a spell of sorts.”

 

The other’s breath fell from him. If this was all it was, it would be simple to fix.

 

“I didn’t recognize it.” He scrubbed his face trying to take the fatigue away. “You will have to search the books so we may dispel it.” Without another word, his shadow shot forward as only a vampire could and began to search the tomes. His collection was extensive, as he had taken it from every witch he had killed.

 

His shadow asked question after question until Wilhelm had become to annoyed. WHen his master had retreated to the fake window pane, he began his search through the older tomes. His finger came to rest on a spell from ages ago. One he had thought long passed.

 

“Master.” He turned on his heel looking up to see the longing in the man’s face. “I think…I found what you are looking for.” His master didn’t turn to face him but stared into the duplicated sky with clouds passing on the panes. Maxwell stood quiet for a moment. His eyes dropped to the page reading.

 

‘Once the vampire is subdued, the spell is cast. If it holds true, his gift will be taken. His might turned out. His soule once more restored.’

 

“I believe…she made you human.” He looked up from the book to find emotion twisting his master’s face. One he didn’t immediately recognize. One he had seen on cattle before as they walked knowingly to the slaughter. When they knew death had come at last.

Advertisements
Fantasy, Writing, Writing Prompts

Alspring

  • Word count: 800
  • Genre: Suspense/fantasy
  • Character: A god
  • Material: A whistle
  • Sentence: “We can repair this.”
  • Bonus: Your story involves a damsel in distress.

 

“We can repair this.” The god said standing in front of the woman still curled up in the arms of the statue. Her brilliant red hair spilled over the marble arm almost touching the ground. Humans always such strange creatures to him. She lie there as if the world wasn’t suffering. Like the world wasn’t on the verge of collapse because of his twin brother.

Her blue eyes stared up into the statue’s eyes like a long lost lover.

“You look so much more handsome as a statue.” She started off saying. His face twisted. He wasn’t used to mortals speaking to him like this. “I wonder why artists always carve your face like this. It doesn’t really look like you.”

He folded his arms across his chest. Pressing his lips together, he glanced at the statue then the woman. “We don’t have a lot of options.” He ignored the insults. “If you will not do anything, I will leave you to wraith wandering the halls.” This got her attention, but he was already turned around walking away. He heard her fall from the statue assumably chasing after him. His ear perked hearing her stumble in her haste.

“I’m sorry. I…I’m just scared. I’ve never had to do this or anything like this.” She slowed to keep pace with him in a quick walk. The god was much taller than her so his pace was faster. Even among mortals, she was short. “What do we need to do?” She asked looking up into his face.

While he didn’t look handsome by human standards, he had a certain appeal. His grey eyes were hard set and determined. He had strong features but his face was thinner. His hair roam about like fire having a life of its own. He didn’t have such red hair as her, his being more strawberry blonde, very light strawberry blonde.

Biting her lip, she managed to catch his eye, but he appeared less than pleased.

“Do not expect me to react like your mortal counterparts.” His voice had dropped from the soothing musical lightness to a darker tone promising of unpleasant things. She stared at him shocked. “You will get nothing from me. I at first thought you might be the one I needed to save to help bring the world back to order. The prophecies even said I’d find the one we needed here, but you.” He stopped walking to face her. “Are not who we need. You only think of your simple mortal needs. Cowering. Insulting men. Do you think I can not see your thoughts? I am no mortal. I know.” His grey eyes turned into storms making her draw back. “You are safe for now, Mortal, but you are no longer requested to join the Hunt.” He spun around growling sounding like thunder. The woman stood behind him shocked but didn’t follow. How could he had thought she of all people was the one to bring order to Life and Death?  

He left the broken temple feeling less than stellar. His mission here today had failed. The only reason he had left his home was to find her. Well, not her from inside the temple reeking of manipulation and ego, but the one that was supposed to be the balance. He dropped himself on a broken column staring at the ground. His mother would be disappointed were he to return with nothing.

The stars like a scale hanging in the sky. A balance between the sun and the moon, to Life and Death. She will be the hands to hold each side like a bridge between the beginning and the end. Mortals climb from one hand and across her back to the other. While the brothers judge whether mortal men shall pass from the plate.

It had been the final words spoken to him and his twin before she too had passed from this finite world. She had spoken of it too, but he had remembered too late. His brother took her to his realm beyond. Their mother said she would stay with him for a time then his brother for a time. That hadn’t bothered him. It was the time to come. When she said Death would reign.

The war broke out and his people started dying. The woman his mother spoke of was to stop Life from bringing in those not suppose to be there, but also stop Death from taking those not ready. A mediator between the two.

A noise brought his eyes from the ground. When he saw the creature chasing one of his people, he couldn’t just sit idle. He jumped from his place running after them. They were heading for the river. THe creature probably aimed to drown the mortal. He leapt in front of it brandishing his spear. Light burst from the tip making the creature screeched falling backward tripping over its own massive tail. Lowering the spear, he turned to the woman cowering in the nook of an oak.

“No need to fear.” He soothed. When she looked up, he tilted his head. Her grey eyes looked so much like his own. “Woman. Whence have you come?” He asked. She held her knees to her chest letting her brown hair fall in front of her hiding her. “If you wish me to leave, I shall, but…I don’t bring and harm with me.”

She took a handkerchief from her dress pocket wiping her nose. “Ah…It’s…It’s not that.” Her alto drifted out from behind her curtain of hair. “I just…” He could hear her take a deep breath. “Need a minute.” The god stood waiting patient.

When she lifted her head, she met his eyes not with defiance, like he’d seen in some, or lust. In her eyes, he could see how broken she was. There wasn’t a hint of arrogance within her. “Woman…” He said again but more softly. “Where have you come from?” Now he was more concerned for her than curious. The look in her eye spoke more for her than her silence.

“I don’t know. All I remember is…it was dark.” Her head turned trying to hide what might be seen. Things she didn’t want him to know, but she didn’t know why. “I…I know…” She tried to gauge how much she could tell him. When he dropped into a crouch in front of her, she managed to see into his face. “I…didn’t like it at all.” She whispered now that he was so close. His eyebrows drew together compassion in his eyes. “It hurt…” Her lips curled down. All at once, she was in his arms sobbing.

From Life’s arms, a damsel is brought. Piece by piece will the bridge between Life and Death be wrought.

He knelt holding her wondering at the events playing out this day. His mother had been right. Not that he doubted, but she had been right. “Come. We will go to my home. It is neither dark, or painful there.” Scooping her up, he straightened.

She couldn’t help but be worried about this. What other choice did she have? If she asked to go, she could feel he would let her, but that creature that had chased her was still out there. She ended up nodding. Shortly after he started walking, exhaustion overtook her. Her eyes gradually closed leaving her sleeping in his arms.

 

When she awoke next, she was lying in a meadow. Where they had just come from had the crisp air of autumn. Here, there was the warmth of spring. She could see the man, or god who had saved her wandering around, but she couldn’t tell what he was doing. Standing up, she brushed off her dress and straightened it out.

“Where are we?” She called out.

He turned letting go of a branch he had been holding. A smile stole across his face. “My home. Alspring.”

 

Fantasy, Writing, Writing Prompts

Souless

  • Word count: 300
  • Genre: Drama
  • Character: A soulless man
  • Material: A wooden cross
  • Sentence: “Aren’t you afraid?”
  • Bonus: The story takes place two-hundred years from now.
  • Tod Lydon TrembleMae Jordon Beaulieu

 

 

“Aren’t you afraid?” The woman almost lowered the wooden cross, but kept her grip tight as she held the symbol in front of her. Tod just shrugged his shoulders. She wasn’t going to budge and they both knew it.

 

“I haven’t been afraid of death for a long time.” He let out his breath almost wishing she would just go through with it. Staring into her eyes, he could see her hesitance. He was too human in appearance and demeanor. THere likely was no way she would kill him. Especially in times like these where society had slowly taken a turn for the worse.

 

“I don’t care if you are or aren’t.” She tried sounding brave her own faltering voice belaying that.

 

“Then why did you ask?” He tilted his head almost imitating perfectly. After so many years, he couldn’t remember how to exactly do it. When she didn’t answer, he took a breath and sat down in his chair again. He didn’t have any plans, indeed he could never die, so none of this mattered. “The time you waste is your own.” He reached out toying with the chisel he had been using just moments before. When she lowered the cross, he lifted an eye brow.

 

“You…don’t seem like the others.” She whispered. Had this been anyone else, she would be dead right now. The Souless ones didn’t forgive mistakes like this. Just because one appeared to be different didn’t mean they were. She would swear she saw something else in his eyes no one else had. Well, none of the Souless that is.

 

“Your death shall not be on my hand nor will I be accountable for your blood when you make this mistake with someone who has the intent to try and consume your soule.” Like vampires the Souless were obsessed with taking what they didn’t have. The main difference was what they consume. When their eyes met, the Souless had the ability to eat the human’s soule if contact was made long enough and the Souless skilled. Most of the time, they had to be close enough to touch.

 

Mae slipped the cross into its loop on her pants. “I haven’t made it a habit to kill harmless people or anyone who…wasn’t aggressive.” The words didn’t sound quite right, but she supposed it would describe it well enough. Tod couldn’t help but reconsider her.

 

“I could just be smart and cause you to lower your guard so I could eat your soule.” When she laughed, he frowned in a purely human way.

 

“If you were, you’d be dead. Souless have tried it before. You aren’t that smart if you did try it.” She leaned a shoulder against the wood column. After a moment, she dared to ask. “Why…or…” She paused hesitating a moment. “How are you different than your…kind?” Her arms folded on her chest.

 

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly. “Perhaps, it’s the long contained remorse for having killed so many in my youth as Souless unable to stop myself from eating any and everyone I could get close to. Maybe, it’s because I ate my whole family unable to stop myself. Or maybe…I don’t know.” He shook his head. “When the Souless first appeared, I remember the pure chaos.”

 

Mae’s eyes widened as he listened. What he talked about happened over two hundred years. She’d never met a Souless from the beginning. What did happen once the Souless lost their craving? She didn’t even know they could after time went on. Her teammates would have never believed her if she said she had a conversation with one of these beasts. No one had met one that could or would actually hold a conversation.

 

“After a while, I found I could fight the urge easier. I wandered farther and farther from humans because I didn’t want anyone else to die. Not that it worked. I still killed too many. Still ate so many.” He shook his head eyes dropping to the cross. Mae couldn’t believe it. A souless that actually wanted her to kill it. Just that fact made her shake her head at him.

 

Pushing off the wall, she turned heading back up the stairs that would take her to the city street. She hesitated as her foot stopped on the first step. “If…” She began but stopped. It would be insanely stupid no matter his amount of control, I mean he did just admit he couldn’t control it all the time. “Perhaps. If…You are feeling conversational. Perhaps, we can talk again. I’d,” She glanced over shoulder. His head was hanging as someone who had lost the courage to pull the trigger. She couldn’t assist in something like that. “I wouldn’t mind listening.” Turning, she ascended the stairs with the intent on hunting more, but she would remember this. This was the exception to the rule all Souless were vicious monsters, but it did prove they could become somewhat human again. That there might be a way to restore their humanity someday.

 

 

This one was really fun to write so I didn’t really stay within the word count limit. I might continue this one at some point. Paranormal, or dark fantasy seems easy for me to write.

 

Military, Writing Prompts

Hope comes with the Sun – 550 words

Instead of giving the writing prompts a title like ‘Writing Prompt 50/51’ etc, I think I’m going to give them simple titles. It’ll be easier I’m hoping.

 

Word count: 550

Genre: Military

Character: A disobedient slave

Material: A guitar

Sentence: “How do you feel?”

Bonus: There seems to be no one left on the planet.

 

“How do you feel?” He lowered the broken guitar in his hand. The body of the instrument only held onto the neck by the strings, though some of those were broken as well. The slave in front of him held her arm in front of her trying to back away from her master. “Did it hurt?” He took a step towards her. The woman pulled her legs underneath her body so he wouldn’t have an easy target. The guitar clattered with a twang as it fell from his hand.

She had reached the back of the room. Her back pressed against the damp drywall. “Y-yes, Master…” Her voice failed her telling him that this time. He had gotten to her. “I-I’m sorry, Master? I…I promise I won’t do it again.” She stumbled over her words. Her gaze on the ground. When he didn’t answer, she dared to look up at his body. Her gaze roaming up to his face. She wouldn’t look in his eyes, but he wasn’t moving. Scanning his body, she tried to find any reason he wasn’t moving. Blood dripped from his mouth, but there was no wound.

“Master?” She whispered. Her voice sounding odd in the silence. It was only when she glanced around the room did she notice a man standing in the door way. His face twisted with rage. Her breath hitched. “I-I’m sorry!” She backed away farther trying to somehow merge with the wall behind her. There was no way she could tell why this new man was angry with her. Her bare feet shoved against the dusty floor caked with debri. Her arm stayed in front of her guarding against the blow that would come. It always did. “I didn’t do anything. I promise.” She couldn’t help the sob as she spoke. The footsteps on the man got closer.

“Sh…” He soothed, but it wasn’t a sound she ever felt comfort from. “He’s gone. No. You didn’t do it. I did.”

Fear snared her heart. A man strong enough to kill her master was a man strong enough to hurt her worse. Her lips quivered in a frown.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know you were down here…” His voice had gone so soft she couldn’t help but look passed her arms. His brown eyes were turned down. Why was he so sad? “I would have put an end to him sooner.” When he looked back up, he was extending his hand slowly toward her. “Would you allow me to take you out of here? The war is over. This doesn’t need to continue.”

The news struck her more than anything else had. It was over?

“The camp was liberated weeks ago. We…” He swallowed hard. “We didn’t know about this place.” His eyes flicked around but went back to her face. Reaching out again, he took her hand making the dried blood crack off her knuckles. “You’re safe now. This will never happen again. You’re free.” He pulled her out of the basement. Closing her eyes, she welcomed the sun on her face. She had thought she would never see the sun again. Now, with the sunlight glinting off her skin. She felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, it was over.

Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt – 500 words

I’m trying out a new writing prompt site. I’m kinda liking it. The site seems to have everything I need for writing. Lately it’s been really crazy over here. My computer got locked, so I couldn’t do anything with it. It was so frustrating, but luckily someone was able to help me out. Now I can get back to writing!

Word count

500 words

Genre

Suspense

Character

A bank counter

Material

A fridge

Sentence to use

“I can’t see you.”

“I can’t see you.”

 

The words drifted out filling the dining room dropping the temperature. Willard stopped writing on the paper. The numbers, facts, and figures blurred in front of his eyes. His throat convulsed reflexively. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. The voice just didn’t go away. He thought if he could make it leave him alone. If he could hide. It hadn’t worked.

 

“Where did you go?”

 

The voice drifted out again almost making his eyes roll back in their sockets. It didn’t sound like a child, or a woman, or anyone he recognized, but somehow all of them. He thought he felt in the voice he could hear someone he knew, but also there wasn’t anyone who sounded like that. The sound seemed to change every time he listened like it was trying to find the correct voice to use. Its indecisiveness was his only relief. It hadn’t found a voice that worked well enough yet. As long as it didn’t, he could continue on.

 

“Why are you hiding?”

 

He steadied his hands so he could keep writing. His work needed this in by tomorrow. At first, he hadn’t wanted to, but he didn’t finish at the office in time. What else was he supposed to do? He really needed this job. This company gave him security and good pay. The work wasn’t demanding most of the time and he got sick leave.

His thoughts were abandoning him. He found he was having a harder time thinking now that it was 10 p.m. The voice only called out at this time. When he had first moved in, he had asked about it but no one knew what he was talking about. Not wanting to be the resident crazy, he had kept it to himself.

 

“Are we playing a game?”

 

He took a deep breath. Why wouldn’t it leave him alone? Despite his best effort, he found himself responding.

“No. I’m not. I’m trying to work. Now leave me alone.” Willard said.

His hand ran through his dark thinning hair as he tried to compose himself. Talking into the air made him feel even crazier. What if this was a symptom of something? Was his mind breaking? His family didn’t have any tendencies.

 

“Oh? Aren’t we?”

 

His eyes unfocused off of the paper onto the fridge in front of him. He really shouldn’t respond. Yet, it enticed him. “No.” He shook his head dropping his gaze to the numbers that had once looked so familiar. He had moved the fridge in front of the wall to block where it was coming from.

The voice was deciding too quickly. Responding more often. It had once seemed like a friendly neighbor talking with him or at him. After a few weeks, he had noticed it sounded less ambiguous and more, familiar. He would swear he could feel it trying words in its nonexistent mouth. When it settled, he felt fear grip him. He had lost.

 

“I am.”

Writing, Writing Prompts

More Writing Prompts

This one happens to be a rather short one.

Write a complete story in only one sentence about a packet of seeds.

It was all that was left, as it dropped it’s last seeds into the packet; the only thing left of his life with her.

 

That was so short, I decided to do more than one here.

What happens when a webcomic artist starts seeing mythical creatures everywhere.

 

He had always assumed it was because he hadn’t been out in a while. Fantasy and myth had always interested him, but he had thought the interest was because it was cool or such. Myth and legend drew him in like no other stories did. His mind would fill with images of flying horses and giant reptiles breathing fire. That was what had pushed him to start the webcomic. It was centered on a select few who had been chosen by the gods and such. It seemed cliche, but he loved it. He had tried less conventional ideas but they never interested him, and because of that never got continued. It was his fantasy comic he worked on the most.

Strange thing that. He had just taken the story where ever he thought it should go, but had his thoughts somehow been altered? In the story, the select few had been attacked, originally for drama, but the last one standing ended up hiding among humans. He forgot who he was. This panel had been what had startled him. He felt stupid writing like this because it felt so much like he was drawing and writing about himself. He feared someone would come along and mock him. Still, he couldn’t stop. Whenever he tried to take the story some other direction, add in new characters, it never felt right.

As he stood outside in the rain, he felt he should go to the hospital. He didn’t feel ill. His head didn’t hurt. Nausea hadn’t crept up on him. His chest didn’t hurt. No. Nothing quite so dramatic. It was the little people with wings dancing on the railing of his balcony. He shouldn’t be able to see that. They looked like they were laughing and using the decorative posts like a slide. An urge to draw this into his comic felt almost overwhelming. The people flew up sitting on the top railing. He was barely paying attention to them, so it took a moment for him to realize. They weren’t sliding back down.

His eyes dropped to one. Words formed into his mind. The sensation of them watching him settled on his mind.

So, what are you going to do?

He was so startled by the clarity of the soft feminine voice, he stumbled backwards. His breath hitched. One of the people flew up the rain breaking into droplets around her.

You know. Don’t you?

He didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say to that?

I was wondering how long it would take. 

He wasn’t certain what she meant by that. Five of the people flew to his hand each taking a finger drawing him forward. His mind felt like it was going a thousand miles per hour. They drew his hand forward. No. This wasn’t real. The people stopped staring up at him.

Do you really believe that? 

He opened his mouth to say he did, but stopped. This seemed to make them happy letting them lead him forward again. Adrenaline was pumping into his body, but he couldn’t exactly figure out why. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He didn’t know why he had been worried before. Stepping up to the railing, he watched them drop his hand on the cold, wet metal. They flew up dancing in patterns around him. Their little voices chanted. The words were impossible to get out of his head. He stepped up on the bottom rail. His body felt so light. He didn’t…know if he could think well.

Come on. You know. We are just on the other side. Everything you know to be true. 

Something dropped in his stomach, but he still swung his legs over the railing letting himself sit on the top. The cold rain drenched his clothes. Little trails of water racing down his face, and arms falling around him. The little people were right. The humans weren’t where he belonged. He had drawn the creatures because he had once seen them. The story he had written was exactly what had happened.

Setting his heels onto the bottom rail, he straightened. The little people, what he knew were fairies, called to him. They beckoned him forward. A small something in the back of his mind twisted around fighting, but it didn’t seem important. Taking a deep breath, he felt the hole that had always been there. The one telling him he didn’t belong. These people wanted him. He would be back with those who wanted him. Finally, someone would want him.

His eyes closed as his hands released the railing. The wind flew around him thrilled his mind. For a moment, he felt lighter than ever. He felt suspended in air. Zero weight gave way to the sensation of falling. A scream shocked his mind into reality as the ground rushed up to meet him. A distant voice, a light weight on his head.

The last one has been killed. We need to return to let them know. His friends couldn’t save him. Such a pity. 

The little people flew off quickly as humans rushed over trying to keep the man alive. People shouted at each other about what they had seen. Police would arrive soon. Medics to try and revive him. But it would all be forgotten, except by those who had tried to save him. The ones who had tried to grab his clothes to pull him back. The one who screamed knowing he would die. The others had finally won.