Book of Necromancy
There are many kinds of self-imprisonment, and many a dark arts preying upon them.
- Know Thyself, Dreamer's Handbook
Lucy slammed a book onto the table. "Look!" Her triumphant expression didn't quite match her bloodshot eyes.
Eric sipped more tea. Ahh, still warm.
"What is it? If you stop hovering and take your hands off it, we might see actually something," Rose said.
Lucy's intense expression remained unchanged, but she did raise the book so they could look at the cover.
Eric saw faded words on black leather, and a skull adorning the cover. 'Spells and Command of Unlife', a grimoire of necromantic arts. Marked on the bottom with small letters: property of Sinar the Raiser.
Rose extended her palm, motioning for Lucy to hand it over. She did, and Rose briefly examined the book. "I don't see what the big deal is."
"Don't you get it? It's a book on necromancy!"
Eric smirked. "Don't tell me you've spent all this time in the library."
"I did, mostly. How did you know?
You Wouldn't Download a ZombieYou Wouldn't Download a Zombie3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Elementary particles (and all 'matter') are artifacts of the staticness of the observing framework.
- Dreamer's Handbook
Rob eyed the big red button, resisting the temptation to push it. "Hey Pete, look what I found!"
The salvage operation was one of the most promising their crew has been on; the demons slaughtered everyone in the underground facility and retreated without taking any of the spoils. They did leave, however, corpses in blue and white labcoats with blood smeared all over.
"What!" Came the muffled reply from the far side of the corridor.
Many of the reinforced doors were already bashed in or broken in half. Naturally, the crew raided the blood depository first - no self-respecting vampires would let all that tasty blood get ruined. It's good we arrived in time, while there's still electricity. Not even the clan leaders knew why only facilities such as these had electricity and working technology - or if they did, they surely did not bother telling Rob.
Dream Magic: AwakeningsDream Magic: Awakenings3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
A mage turns dream into vision.
- Awakenings, Dreamer's Handbook
Eric was running. Not this nightmare again, he thought.
He was gazing ahead, his eyes seeing only the path where his next two or three steps would land. The surroundings were nothing but a colorless blur he was running through. His mind worked frenetically to see not what was ahead, but what was behind: two goblins half his height trying to catch up to him. Eric could very clearly see in his mind the dark green skin and the multitude of those pointy, crooked teeth. They were swinging small clubs made from hard wood, the smoothness of which was most likely forged by a lot of clobbering action. Eric could not stop envisioning the jagged teeth and burnished weapons, since he was constantly hearing a grinding and munching "rawbrawrawrblr" sound coming from behind - a sound similar to that of a hungry dog attacking a bare bone.
I hate this nightmare. I hate it hate it hate it! This is the sixth time already.
Zombie KittenZombie Kitten3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Love broadens your identity and expands who you are. Empathy is the ability to feel as one, but compassion is the choice to do so with Love.
- Dreamer's Handbook
Elise put her hands on the cage. "Oh no, what has he done to you?"
The kitten inside meowed pleadingly. Decay marred deep into its flesh, and fur has fallen off around the patches of diseased skin.
Elise wanted to cradle and console the kitten, but a sense of caution overruled the protective impulse. Vampires had great natural resistance to disease, but it was drilled into her mind to stay away from zombies - be they human or animal.
She examined the large table upon which the small cage stood: rusty knives and dirty spoons, bottles, vials, and several disemboweled rat corpses.
So, Bron, this is what you do in your spare time... She poked one of the rat cadavers with a stick.
They all autopsied rats in class - after all, knowledge of anatomy is important for young vampires - but all the splattered blood suggested the
Nekomata, Ch.1NekomataNekomata, Ch.18 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Chapter One: Into the Flames
I watched the dancing flames as they cracked near my feet and warmed my shins. The smell of smoke and burning meat filled the air while the shadows of the other travelers sitting around me whipped in time with the fire. Usually I traveled alone, but the offer of food, warmth, and protection was too good to pass up. The company I could do without.
"I've heard," the oldest of our group grunted in the silence, "That a horrible creature has been seen near here."
Flame-lit faces exchanged looks of curiosity, shock, and among some, indifference. One of the younger men, a newcomer to the group, cocked his head to the side so slightly that it was barely noticeable. He couldn't have been more than eighteen years old, not much younger than myself. When the sleepy-eyed older man offered no more information, the newcomer ventured for it.
"What kind of creature?" he asked cautiously.
"The bakeneko," the first answered simply, not even waiting for a dramatic pau
FeralStaring up from the murky depths,Feral3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Are two feral eyes,
Blue and green and muddied,
Twin waterspouts over the stagnant lake.
They look at me as if I am something breakable,
Fragile and delicate as the floating cherry blossoms,
But I know I am just as muddied,
Just as stained.
There is a fervent voice screaming,
Pouring over the newly blossoming fields,
Shaking the blue bells to insanity,
Ringing across the still waters.
I can hear it echo,
Become a fantasy, a faltering record,
It foams at the mouth,
Festers as it smiles grotesquely.
And in a moment,
The eyes become my own,
And I can finally see the reflection I so long to see,
Ripples branching out from sullied flesh.
With those eyes I see,
I believe in everything fearful,
Breaking down the façade of purity.
I am alive.
Eternal SeptemberEternal September3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Some animals sacrifice themselves for the good of their group and species. Others do the reverse.
- The Bad Stuff, Dreamer's Handbook
John materialized on top of a tall cliff. It wasn't a teleportation spell - his consciousness could surely handle the in-between places. He sat down on a nearby rock.
Such a tranquil view. The local horizon and the fractally recurring lush vegetation soothed him. John occasionally brought his pupils here; perspective helps with thinking.
Despite the view, he gazed inward. Unlike many who reacted to the height with a love-hate kind of fear, John saw the height as a representation of distance he felt within his own inner being.
On one end of the spectrum was his analytical self, almost sterile of all emotions. John owed his survival to it, yet such mental clarity required the sacrifice of almost all else. Since his students knew only this side, they called him 'Mr. Smith' - his preference for tailored suits only reinforced the stereotype.
Vampires Crave Demon BloodVampires Crave Demon Blood3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
There are obvious things we're addicted to: food, air, water. More insidious than that are addictions to feelings, people, or states of mind.
Perhaps most common is the addiction to being oneself, which results in resistance to change and clinging to the ego. On the other end of the spectrum we find those who don't Love themselves enough, and seek other addictions to fill the void.
- Dreamer's Handbook
"Next on today's agenda is..." Cellie shuffled the pages around until she found the right one: "'The social implications of demon blood consumption.'" She put the page back down. "What shall we do with the junkies, gentlemen?"
The three vampire clan leaders at the table - two lords and one lady - pondered the problem in silence. Their aides stood behind them, not speaking unless spoken to.
Snow was gently falling outside.
The youthful-looking lord cleared his throat. "Err... nothing?"
"What do you mean, 'nothing'?" Cellie asked, slightly annoyed.
The bearded lord raised a hand. "Aram is
Demons are Smarter Than YouThe mist obediently hovers within the binding circle, coming once more and tamely to my call. How raucous it was when first I summoned it! How loudly it roared its name to the ceiling—how silent were the heavens that night. But now it is silent when it arrives, as silent as the heavens when I call, for I have bade it so. With it comes the sulfurous reek of its home and its own pets—a pair of tiny bat-winged imps no larger than my hand—and a deepening of the shadows in my basement conjury.Demons are Smarter Than You3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The fool has cast his spells of summoning again, and never were more clichéd words uttered than in this room. He thinks I am silent because he ordered me to be; I am silent because I know that were I to speak, I would reveal the true depth of his idiocy. And that simply would not do. Not now that I've invested so much time into making this little room homely. My "little" pets—if the stupid scholar knew their true shapes, he would die of fright—are
Zombie Mages Bend RealityZombie Mages Bend Reality3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Time is the symmetry-breaking act of the mage's vision. By distinguishing this vision, we quantize time and introduce the concepts of 'change', 'speed' or 'phase'. The context they manifest in we call 'space'.
By now we have enough to observe the Holographic Principle, the corollary of which is that all dimensions curve. Understanding gravity is not that hard:
As a response to the continuous exhale of sight, space/time inhales in the direction of time. If you prefer to think in cause-and-effect chains, think of it this way: mass doesn't cause the gravitational field - the curving of space/time causes that which we quantify as 'mass' and 'matter'.
- Dreamer's Handbook
Emerson rattled the chains that bound him to the operating table. "Increase the dosage! More Serum!"
Dyna observed calmly from behind the bulletproof glass. Too bad surgical research yields no results. Experiments with Serum overdose were cheap in terms of time and equipment, but required cripplingly lar
Survive the Zombies In the wake of nearly every disaster, fatalities occur long after the event has taken its initial toll. Whether it is a volcano, hurricane, flood, plague or zombie attack, the general pandemonium following a crisis often causes more problems for the survivors than the original disaster. The most threatening aspect of surviving the impending apocalypse is hordes of mindless drones, either in the form of zombies, angry mobs, or the Federal Emergency Management Agency.Survive the Zombies5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Paranoia and suspicion of others are the best ways to avoid being swept up in this deadly pandemonium. As long as quality of life is not part of the issue, staying shut away in an overly sterilized air lock with a lifetime supply of canned food will probably keep you breathing the longest. Of course, if retaining humanity is factored into the equation, your options are far less clear. As social creatures, humans have evolved to react as a group, similar to pods of fish and herds of
The Doppelganger 2The book still sings to me, and that's when I pull it from under my bed and stroke the cover. But I never open it, because I know what happens if I do it wrong. It's still blank; but only of ink. I know the secret, you see. It's how I understand the songs, and know the melodies it echoes up to me, through time. There are impressions hidden in the pages- spilled mead and raucous laughter, summer sunshine and frost on dead leaves. The last time I tried feeling them from start to finish, I passed out from the sheer weight of knowledge, and it left my brain scrambled for ages.The Doppelganger 23 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I found out things about my past and my family's past. I have Irish on my dad's side of the family, stretching back generations. I'd have said I was surprised when I found out, but that would have been a lie.
People say I've changed since last spring. My face is thinner, my eyes are brighter, I've been "brought out of myself." What they don't know is that I've actually met myself. I've taken to wearing rich, d
The Substitution ParadigmThe Substitution ParadigmThe Substitution Paradigm3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Ramu came up to our table. Glaring at me, he said, “You either order something or get out.”
I glanced away from the threat, and turned to Raghav. A single drop of sweat was running down his brow. Ramu saw that too and identifying his prey, he sprung.
Swinging around, he faced Raghav, “Order something or get out.”
Then Ramu just stood there. It was not as if we had rehearsed it before hand, but he knew. He knew that my co-occupants generally folded in the first round. Only the stout made it to second level, but they too buckled under Ramu’s relentless gaze.
I always had a policy of not spending on other people’s problems. My purse was already slimmer than the waist of a size zero model. So, I simply sat there, watching the lion circling his prey.
A few seconds later, the prey went down. “Two coffees”, Raghav said, wiping away the sweat with a handkerchief.
Ramu turned his head back, gave me a leering smile, and we
To Write of HorrorTo paint a scene of mythic horrorsTo Write of Horror3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Take dim lit room and darkest corners
Find a child huddled there, cradled tight in his despair
Silent here for not his murmurs,
murmuring out a prayer
He asks the keeper keep to keeping
While all his guardians tucked in sleeping
Ignorant of the shadows creeping
Slow across the hallway floor, standing now outside his door
Somewhere near the sound of breathing,
breaths too heavy to ignore
Then just outside there raised a howl
A distant boom and monstrous growl
Envisions he a ghostly cowl
Afloat across the yard in prowl
Come to steal his soul away, curtains hold the fiend at bay
With scrapes across the window scowls,
scowling out in its dismay
The shutters joined the fray with flapping
Hard against the walls their rapping
While all around began a tapping
With no relent unceasing clapping
the pitter-patter's endless lapping
Solace to the boy then came, raptured from this fearful bane
Slowly drifts his mind towards napping,
napping through a night of rain
On my way homeBy Romy LaraOn my way home3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I exit the studio, sighing at the sight of the sun quietly hiding behind the trees and buildings. Turn to the right and keep walking. Cars are passing by, people in black suits get out from the nearest buildings; none of them care about their surroundings. I lift up my head and notice in big steel-letters the name of the company that owns that peculiar orange building in the corner of the street. It's the first time I see it. The sky is painted blue with some dabs of gray, just as if somehow the color of the concrete street had been absorbed by the clouds.
Behind me there's a couple discussing something about a house. She doesn't sound happy. And he's just getting mad. She shouts and speeds up, him trying to catch up with her, but it's futile. She is a very good runner despite her heels. The man glances at me. I toy with the white cable of my earphones and pretend I didn't hear anything. I pass him. He just stands there. I wonder what would he do now. But I have no time to
The Origin of the InternetThis is the story of Compudites and Internedes great gods of knowledge and communication. It is a story of their love for each other. It is a story of their betrayal at the hands of Hermes the messenger. It is a story of Internedes' destruction at the hands of Zeus. And it is a story of how, with the help of Athena, Compudites was able to be together with Internedes once more. It is the story of how and why humanity got one of the greatest resources ever known the internet.The Origin of the Internet3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Compudites was a kind and gentle god, frail and limited in power, but boundless in intellect a patron of sciences, mathematics, and technology. He was the guiding hand behind many of humanity's technological breakthroughs throughout the millennia. But just as technology and discoveries in the maths and sciences depend on others to spread them, Compudites was forever dependent on others to spread his knowledge. Hermes the messenger was one, swift like the wind, he helped carry messages between th
Automatici.Automatic3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
"So where are you from?" The boy leans toward me, questions swimming in his eyes. I smile.
"Oh, I'm from Boston."
"No, I mean, where are you from?" My smile falters as I realize where this is going. It's an all-too familiar conversation, one I've been having since I was old enough to reply.
"Do you mean where was I born?"
"I was born in China."
"Do you speak Chinese?"
"Does your family speak Chinese?"
He looks befuddled. I sigh.
"Oh!" I see the light bulb over his head go off in a shower of sparks. "Do you know who your real parents are? Like, your real parents?" My temper flares. I stifle the urge to throw something.
"You mean my biological parents?"
"Oh." There's an awkward pause. I have learned to wait it out, to prepare my next automated response.
"When were you adopted?"
"When I was a year old."
"Did you live in an orphanage?"
"Like in Annie?"
Rolling my eyes seems appropriate.
"No, not l
Changing GearsMy morning oats taste particularly bland this morning. I look outside the clouded windows and see the city across every inch of my vision. Buildings of all shapes and sizes are formed from copper, brass, and iron. At all times of the day, the city's Gears are churning.Changing Gears3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Gears are the machines that run the city, the country, possibly even the entire world. Metals are formed together to form them, robotic men designed to replace our government. Their voices boom over the industrial noises of the factories and drown seem to drown out all individual conversations. We're free, I suppose, but they all say that there was once a time when freedom was all we had.
Across the street, I see Thayoden. He's a boy who works in the aircraft factory, constructing engines and attaching steering wheels and dials to bi-planes. I met him in Industry class when we were both eleven years old. Ever since then, we've grown apart, but I still see him and think of how much I miss being with him. But we're dif