It's been a while since I s***posted. I might as well do it. I made this a while ago, but didn't have the time to read over it.
My bones sound like someone replaced them with explosives as I lift myself off the ground. The loud cracks sound painful, but it doesn't actually hurt. I'd make a killing if I started a business selling them for birthday parties. Unfortunately there's no time to make money selling internal organs. With one hand to steady myself I take in my surroundings. The dim stone room is cluttered with all sorts of containers atop of shelves and in drawers. Things like roots, teeth and what looks suspiciously like eyeballs lines the walls. There's only one window in the room, its glass panes hang open. The night is dark, and there's no moon in sight. I peer over the tall ledge. Grey brick walls stretch far to both sides of the window. It could be some sort of fortress by the looks of things. One wall is lined with bookcases, books are packed on the shelves with no clear sorting system. Glancing at the books I discern some of the titles: 1001 Recipes for a Modern Alchemist, Selling Skeletons: An Entrepreneur's Guide to Undead, Forest Adventures for Dummies: Limited Edition, and Shoot the Moon: A thrilling CYOA story.
There aren't any visible sources of light, but I don't seem to have a problem seeing. Maybe light is coming off of the overly complicated magic circle that I woke up on.
Odd how I didn't notice such a large, glowing, and red circle earlier, but that's probably not something to worry about. Is that blood? The room looks like something straight out of those Mothers Against Dark Magic propaganda posters. All that's missing from this picture is a crazy old wizard pulling demonic rabbits out of a top hat. Also drugs. And candy.
And candy shaped drugs.
The room's owner probably just reads too many fiction stories. They might be a crazy person that dresses up in capes or thinks they have magic powers just because their ancestors held sexual congress with a dragon. Still, I'm not one to judge, for all I know they could have saved me from a terrible accident. That would explain why I have all these bandages on my arm and body. It would also explain why I can't remember how I got in this mysterious room in an extremely tall and bleak structure that may or may not be the one everyone says to stay away from.
That might be something to worry about to your average person, but there's no reason to panic.
Because I'm not panicking. Yes, I am completely calm right now.
Calm. Perfectly relaxed. There are lots reasonable explanations on how I got here. I might have offered to walk someone to their intimidating home in the middle of the night after heavy drinking.
Running around the room in mypanicstretching exercise, I realize where I might be. Now, I'm not one to go on wild assumptions based off of little evidence, but this might be that giant fortress to the west of town. It's the only castle in the area, my grandma always told me to stay away from it. She said that evil fairies would perform their rituals here, sacrificing mountains of bread loafs to the gods so that they can win their next hide and seek game. She also told me to always trust a snake person. Still, many adventurers have travelled to the castle after stopping by town never to return. That's usually because they get beaten up on their way to the big city, but that's not the point. Practically everyone agrees that the castle is inhabited by all sorts of monsters and demons, and they have good reason to believe so. Every few months the monsters demand sacrifices from the townspeople if the fear mongers are to be believed. But those are all just rumours.
I'm brought out of my internal monologue on the castle by a light underneath me. A dim light creeps under through the bottom of the door. Someone's on the other side. The door creaks as it opens; light creeps into the dark room.
Then the door closes. Mutters come from behind the door, but it's too quiet to make out what they're saying. The door is opened and closed for another minute, whoever is there seems awfully hesitant about entering the room. Then the door slams open. A tall woman wearing a large black trench coat stares at me, hand still on the doorknob. We stare at each other. Neither one making a move in the impromptu staring contest. Her cloak looks very well crafted, but contains an impractical amount of pockets. At least a bakers dozen of them. Some parts are stained and faded, with the type that you only get after years of use. She looks shifty wearing it. Before I can comment on the rest of her appearance, she blinks and loses the contest. With eyes not even dry, I win.
“Oh good, you're awake.” She says, ignoring the events that just happened. “I'm sure you have a lot of questions about what's going on, so I'll make it quick.” She pauses to give me a cheerful smile before talking again, “You're dead.”
What.
“What.”
“It's exactly what it sounds like.” The cheerful tone in which she pronounces demise makes it hard to tell if she's joking, or extremely confused.
“Do you know what it means to be dead? Last time I checked dead things don't move around and talk.”
“That's because you're deader than dead, undead to be exact. I found your body on a stroll and turned you into a zombie. And on behalf of the residents here, I would like to welcome you to the Vermilion Castle.” She throws her arms to her side. A wide grin on her face.
I stare at her blankly. If I was a zombie, I wouldn't be thinking about this. Everyone knows that risen undead are mindless. Therefore it is impossible for me to be dead. I'm always right about things like these. Except when I'm not. Which leads me to one conclusion. She's crazy.
“I think there's a misunderstanding here. If you could please tell me how I got here and the fastest way out, that would be great.”
The strange human tilts her head in confusion. As if questioning why I think I'm alive. “Well do you feel alive? Can't you tell that your body isn't functioning like it should?”
She does has a point. I'm thinking about breathing, yet I'm not breathing manually. This is amazing! I'll never lose another staring contest again. “Well just because I'm not breathing doesn't mean I'm dead. And why should I trust you, if what you say is true then you turned me into a zombie. If I was a zombie then you could make me believe I was one through your evil sorceries. Therefore I am not dead, but alive!”
She sighs, and puts her hands into her jacket pockets. Her eyes narrow, like a teacher dealing with a student who never does their homework.“Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. And I have all day.”
[] Denial
[] Anger
[] Depression
[] Bargaining
[]Acceptance You'll never take me dead or alive! Jump out the window.
I felt like writing a introductory post for a CYOA story idea I have had. If I ever get around to writing it I'll probably change the beginning completely. If you feel like it tell me how s*** it is.
Dead Men Tell (No) Tales
My bones sound like someone replaced them with explosives as I lift myself off the ground. The loud cracks sound painful, but it doesn't actually hurt. I'd make a killing if I started a business selling them for birthday parties. Unfortunately there's no time to make money selling internal organs. With one hand to steady myself I take in my surroundings. The dim stone room is cluttered with all sorts of containers atop of shelves and in drawers. Things like roots, teeth and what looks suspiciously like eyeballs lines the walls. There's only one window in the room, its glass panes hang open. The night is dark, and there's no moon in sight. I peer over the tall ledge. Grey brick walls stretch far to both sides of the window. It could be some sort of fortress by the looks of things. One wall is lined with bookcases, books are packed on the shelves with no clear sorting system. Glancing at the books I discern some of the titles: 1001 Recipes for a Modern Alchemist, Selling Skeletons: An Entrepreneur's Guide to Undead, Forest Adventures for Dummies: Limited Edition, and Shoot the Moon: A thrilling CYOA story.
There aren't any visible sources of light, but I don't seem to have a problem seeing. Maybe light is coming off of the overly complicated magic circle that I woke up on.
Odd how I didn't notice such a large, glowing, and red circle earlier, but that's probably not something to worry about. Is that blood? The room looks like something straight out of those Mothers Against Dark Magic propaganda posters. All that's missing from this picture is a crazy old wizard pulling demonic rabbits out of a top hat. Also drugs. And candy.
And candy shaped drugs.
The room's owner probably just reads too many fiction stories. They might be a crazy person that dresses up in capes or thinks they have magic powers just because their ancestors held sexual congress with a dragon. Still, I'm not one to judge, for all I know they could have saved me from a terrible accident. That would explain why I have all these bandages on my arm and body. It would also explain why I can't remember how I got in this mysterious room in an extremely tall and bleak structure that may or may not be the one everyone says to stay away from.
That might be something to worry about to your average person, but there's no reason to panic.
Because I'm not panicking. Yes, I am completely calm right now.
Calm. Perfectly relaxed. There are lots reasonable explanations on how I got here. I might have offered to walk someone to their intimidating home in the middle of the night after heavy drinking.
Running around the room in my
I'm brought out of my internal monologue on the castle by a light underneath me. A dim light creeps under through the bottom of the door. Someone's on the other side. The door creaks as it opens; light creeps into the dark room.
Then the door closes. Mutters come from behind the door, but it's too quiet to make out what they're saying. The door is opened and closed for another minute, whoever is there seems awfully hesitant about entering the room. Then the door slams open. A tall woman wearing a large black trench coat stares at me, hand still on the doorknob. We stare at each other. Neither one making a move in the impromptu staring contest. Her cloak looks very well crafted, but contains an impractical amount of pockets. At least a bakers dozen of them. Some parts are stained and faded, with the type that you only get after years of use. She looks shifty wearing it. Before I can comment on the rest of her appearance, she blinks and loses the contest. With eyes not even dry, I win.
“Oh good, you're awake.” She says, ignoring the events that just happened. “I'm sure you have a lot of questions about what's going on, so I'll make it quick.” She pauses to give me a cheerful smile before talking again, “You're dead.”
What.
“What.”
“It's exactly what it sounds like.” The cheerful tone in which she pronounces demise makes it hard to tell if she's joking, or extremely confused.
“Do you know what it means to be dead? Last time I checked dead things don't move around and talk.”
“That's because you're deader than dead, undead to be exact. I found your body on a stroll and turned you into a zombie. And on behalf of the residents here, I would like to welcome you to the Vermilion Castle.” She throws her arms to her side. A wide grin on her face.
I stare at her blankly. If I was a zombie, I wouldn't be thinking about this. Everyone knows that risen undead are mindless. Therefore it is impossible for me to be dead. I'm always right about things like these. Except when I'm not. Which leads me to one conclusion. She's crazy.
“I think there's a misunderstanding here. If you could please tell me how I got here and the fastest way out, that would be great.”
The strange human tilts her head in confusion. As if questioning why I think I'm alive. “Well do you feel alive? Can't you tell that your body isn't functioning like it should?”
She does has a point. I'm thinking about breathing, yet I'm not breathing manually. This is amazing! I'll never lose another staring contest again. “Well just because I'm not breathing doesn't mean I'm dead. And why should I trust you, if what you say is true then you turned me into a zombie. If I was a zombie then you could make me believe I was one through your evil sorceries. Therefore I am not dead, but alive!”
She sighs, and puts her hands into her jacket pockets. Her eyes narrow, like a teacher dealing with a student who never does their homework.“Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. And I have all day.”
[] Denial
[] Anger
[] Depression
[] Bargaining
[]
I felt like writing a introductory post for a CYOA story idea I have had. If I ever get around to writing it I'll probably change the beginning completely. If you feel like it tell me how s*** it is.
