Writer's Journey

  Ellis felt at peace. Every night, he ended his day in the same way. He methodically cleaned, polished, and repaired every piece of weaponry and armour he had locked away in his underground armoury. The satisfaction he felt upon seeing the gleam of his prized possessions was incomparable. These were the same weapons, after all, that would remain by his side until his death. Ellis expected to die in a blaze of glory, in a battle against evil, alongside his many vigilante allies. But he knew that it was more likely that he would simply bleed out alone in an alleyway some night. Shaking away his rather morbid thoughts, Ellis began to pack up his cleaning supplies. Just as he was about to lock the door to the armoury behind him, he heard a strange ringtone from his phone. Not his civilian one, of course. But the sleek burner he used for his vigilante work. Only a few people had the number to that phone. Ellis, now acting as the vigilante Blade, quickly answered the call from Foxglove....

  “My granddaughter,” Rebecca sighed, closing her eyes wistfully. “She’s having a dance recital in her school right now. I had promised to attend a few months ago, but it’s impossible now.” These were the words which had broken the peaceful silence in the hospital ward. All the beds were empty, besides the single occupied one by the window. Rebecca watched a flock of birds fly by, and felt rather calm for the situation she was in. Only one person was in the room besides her. A little boy was sitting on a chair by her bed, legs unable to reach the ground. He swung them eagerly, listening to the first words he had been offered since he had sat down. “I’m missing so many things in my family’s lives, and I’m going to miss so many more soon,” She lamented, shifting her gaze to the various monitors and wires hooked up to her. Wrinkled fingers attempted to move a wire out of her face, but were too weak. “They will miss you, and remember you dearly” The boy said, sounding strangely sure. A...

  A glowing glass sphere sailed past Xander, and he threw himself to the side in a hurry. The side of his body hurt, and molten rivers of pain erupted from his already-broken arm, but that was better. He watched the sphere shatter against the cold stone tiles and explode with an ear-splitting bang. The windows exploded with the force of the explosion, raining glimmering shards of glass. The Xander from a few months ago would be staring at the scene in horror, and be on the verge of tears. But the Xander at that moment was calm. Well, that was a lie. He was still on the verge of tears. He just knew, by virtue of far too much experience, that wasting time by gawking would be a very bad idea. So, even as he heard the knights behind him shout at the magicians to prepare the next volley of explosion spheres, he pushed himself off the floor to keep running. The many paintings on the walls seemed to glare down at him. He knew they weren’t truly alive, but the cold expressions of the Heads...