Short Stories (NEW)

[Sanghyeok]

Let's post short stories and such here!

[Sanghyeok]

My first entry is from a factbook I wrote. It is not really a short story, but journal entry from Oomiya Sakura's journal.

文明七年 (1476)
This entry was written after during yet another looting of Kyoto, the Oomiya residence was burned down.

My face stretches into what some might call a smile. It's the kind of smile one might make as the student, hiding their inner terror when a teacher assigns yet another ridiculous writing assignment. Or perhaps, the smile one friend may give to another, trying to assure them that, yes, their awful cooking is edible. And maybe the smile one shows when they are too tired to cry, too angry to live, and too stressed to speak.

I know it, because all three of those are my experiences.

Those three experiences gave me the same face, same expression. But they are very different experiences, each of them. Our understanding of medicine thus far claims it is the physiological response that leads to emotion. If that is the case, why did those different emotions all give me the same physiological response? The response of a fake, empty smile on my lips.

I do not know, and I may never know.

And even so, I wish to know. Again and again this last two and a half centuries, I have found myself facing the same abyss. I still remember the first time I felt this way, when my little sister perished before she had even reached a year of age. That time, my mother comforted me. And then again, when my parents left this world. That time, my friends comforted me. But as the generations came and left, there were no more people who can tell me "it will be alright."

"Everything will be alright."

I am still as selfish, and childish as ever. I know it because it is true. But even so, even so....I still wish to hear those words.

"Everything will be alright."

Like the child who woke up after an evil dream and seeks to know that they are not being pursued by demons or being cast into a fire, I want to know, I want to feel, I want to understand.

"Everything will be alright."

But I am not. I am not who I was. I have changed, already, so many times. I will continue to change, as is nature of human....or whatever I may be.

Back in the Ashikaga School, I learned a most interesting story. It was tale from the faraway land of Greece, which explains a ship that is replaced, plank by plank, until there is not a single part of the original left. Philosophers debate: is it still the same ship?

Back then, when teacher asked, I told him: of course not. Although many in our civilization claim something must have an "essence", I disagreed. Materials are merely materials, an objects being and nature must come from the material itself. If a ship is replaced gradually, it is of course no longer the original ship. After all, if Chang'an has the Imperial Palace remade, can we say it is the same essence of the city which existed before? It would not even be Tang's, never mind Qin's Chang'an!

Or so I thought.

Yet I look at myself today, and realize the wisdom of teacher's words. Everything I know has changed. People, of course, are the fastest to go. Even those who lived the longest were gone in under a century. Memories, too, grow darken with each passing day. I can still see the colors and sights like yesterday, and for this I am glad my mind has always been clear. But other things are slowly fading away: scents and sounds. The buildings and natural beauty of this place were the last, but now they too have been lost. Burned, looted, and razed. The only thing I can bring with me forever are emotions. The only thing that is the same are those memories, and emotions.

And now even my emotions are gone.

I have always hated my weakness of crying; during childhood the slightest injury or misfortune could leave me in tears. Mother said it was fine; I came from a noble family, and outside of the public life I could express my emotions freely. But even so I hated it, for what good is a crying to do? I hated myself every time the tears left my eyes, streaking across my face and falling onto the tatami. I hated myself every time my nose became stuffed, and I found it hard to breathe as I gasped for breath and let out my inner emotions at the same time. I hated myself every time I curled onto the floor, with the pain in my mind extending to my heart, and them my stomach. I hated it so very much....

And now I miss it.

Last night, when the family residence burned down finally and the flames reached the sky, I could not cry.
This morning, when the sun rose and shone upon the ashes of where it once was, I could not cry.
Now, I sit down writing this, and I still cannot cry.

I wonder if, I have lost my ability to feel?
I wonder if, I have lost what humanity I had left.
My heart desires this answer, though I may never know.

[Chan Island]

Glorious. I'll be sure to post on here soon.

[Sanghyeok]

Glorious. I'll be sure to post on here soon.

I look forward for your short story!

[Borderlands of Rojava]

They sat around the fire dressed almost casually in their fatigues, worn out by the events of that day. The soldiers of the LYM were at day's end just kids with their rifles playing soldier, and that day several of those kids lost their lives. It was cowboys and Indians, and Jack was beginning to question whether he'd made the right decision joining the LYM at the start of the conflict. His cousin, now all but consumed with violent insanity, sat across the fire from him, her face given an eerie shadowing by the dull orange light. She was the first to break the silence, laughing for unknown reasons hysterically. "What's so funny?" Jack asked. "You know, it's funny how everyone is trying to give meaning to this war," she said. "Christians and Muslims. Israelis dropping bombs. Fucking Americans storming in like this is Siagon. At day's end Jack, the real winners are gonna be the ones who see the true potential in this conflict. Power." Jack was silent. The woman before him that night was no woman. She seemed almost less than human at this point, her mind consumed with a lust for violence. "What do you mean?" He asked. "I guarentee you that when this war ends, there won't be a community that wins Jack. No, it'll be the PEOPLE who win," she replied. "There will be individuals who win, while your average jackass goes home empty handed. I intend to be one of the top 10% who come out of this with power, with money and with respect. All this sectarian crap is just a means to an end for me. When the chips are down, people are either gonna swear allegiance to me, or they can go where Steven went." Jack's blood ran cold, thinking about what happened to Steven. "But you're only a field commander," Jack said. "Y-youre not even second in command." "Not yet," she said. "I'm skipping steps Jack. See, people know what I can get them. That bank we raided last week had more gold bars than the entirety of Switzerland. The port we took is a major hub for drugs and guns. We are gonna be rich when this is over and the people behind me know it. And our general, Iskander, in a few days he won't be a problem anymore." Jack gazed around the campfire in shock, trying to find someone who looked as startled as he was. Everyone either looked at Hannah or they looked down in a resigned state of sorrow, knowing they could do nothing to stop her. "I have people throughout this militia Jack. When I give the order, which we will call 'the metalstorm,' Iskander and all of his cronies are getting a one way trip six feet below. I got people in the Lebanese Front too, and once we take them, this whole country is gonna belong to us." "But you still gotta fight everyone else," Jack replied. "Oh, I have my ways," Hannah stated. "You see, we can't just kill the soldiers on the battlefield in front of us Jack. We gotta kill them all. Men, women, children, the elderly. We have to turn whole cities into ghost towns to truly dominate and subjugate these rivals of ours." "You wouldn't," Jack gasped. "I would," she replied. "Do you know how furious someone like the PLO will be if you kill fucking kids?" "The world is as angry as it could get Jack," Hannah stated. "What, do you think this will cause a little more anger? The world is an angry and violent place." Jack's thoughts raced as Hannah cracked that satanically evil smile in anticipation of the bloodshed that would commence. It was at that moment that Jack realized the cousin he grew up with was the past. The war had twisted his own relative into a monster of a woman, hellbent on pure horror not seen even after all these years of war. And the worst thing was just how many people had sworn allegiance to such a sick and twisted human being, ought of pure greed. Jack failed to sleep at all that night, kept awake by the thought of his own cousin's metamorphosis from a catholic school girl to a war criminal and a tyrant, and he wondered how her parents would feel if they were still alive.

I've been actually thinking of turning this into a full fledged film, since I myself have years of experience in acting and I know a guy who knows a guy who's an indie film director who specializes in like action and war movies.

[Sanghyeok]

They sat around the fire dressed almost casually in their fatigues, worn out by the events of that day. The soldiers of the LYM were at day's end just kids with their rifles playing soldier, and that day several of those kids lost their lives. It was cowboys and Indians, and Jack was beginning to question whether he'd made the right decision joining the LYM at the start of the conflict. His cousin, now all but consumed with violent insanity, sat across the fire from him, her face given an eerie shadowing by the dull orange light. She was the first to break the silence, laughing for unknown reasons hysterically. "What's so funny?" Jack asked. "You know, it's funny how everyone is trying to give meaning to this war," she said. "Christians and Muslims. Israelis dropping bombs. Fucking Americans storming in like this is Siagon. At day's end Jack, the real winners are gonna be the ones who see the true potential in this conflict. Power." Jack was silent. The woman before him that night was no woman. She seemed almost less than human at this point, her mind consumed with a lust for violence. "What do you mean?" He asked. "I guarentee you that when this war ends, there won't be a community that wins Jack. No, it'll be the PEOPLE who win," she replied. "There will be individuals who win, while your average jackass goes home empty handed. I intend to be one of the top 10% who come out of this with power, with money and with respect. All this sectarian crap is just a means to an end for me. When the chips are down, people are either gonna swear allegiance to me, or they can go where Steven went." Jack's blood ran cold, thinking about what happened to Steven. "But you're only a field commander," Jack said. "Y-youre not even second in command." "Not yet," she said. "I'm skipping steps Jack. See, people know what I can get them. That bank we raided last week had more gold bars than the entirety of Switzerland. The port we took is a major hub for drugs and guns. We are gonna be rich when this is over and the people behind me know it. And our general, Iskander, in a few days he won't be a problem anymore." Jack gazed around the campfire in shock, trying to find someone who looked as startled as he was. Everyone either looked at Hannah or they looked down in a resigned state of sorrow, knowing they could do nothing to stop her. "I have people throughout this militia Jack. When I give the order, which we will call 'the metalstorm,' Iskander and all of his cronies are getting a one way trip six feet below. I got people in the Lebanese Front too, and once we take them, this whole country is gonna belong to us." "But you still gotta fight everyone else," Jack replied. "Oh, I have my ways," Hannah stated. "You see, we can't just kill the soldiers on the battlefield in front of us Jack. We gotta kill them all. Men, women, children, the elderly. We have to turn whole cities into ghost towns to truly dominate and subjugate these rivals of ours." "You wouldn't," Jack gasped. "I would," she replied. "Do you know how furious someone like the PLO will be if you kill fucking kids?" "The world is as angry as it could get Jack," Hannah stated. "What, do you think this will cause a little more anger? The world is an angry and violent place." Jack's thoughts raced as Hannah cracked that satanically evil smile in anticipation of the bloodshed that would commence. It was at that moment that Jack realized the cousin he grew up with was the past. The war had twisted his own relative into a monster of a woman, hellbent on pure horror not seen even after all these years of war. And the worst thing was just how many people had sworn allegiance to such a sick and twisted human being, ought of pure greed. Jack failed to sleep at all that night, kept awake by the thought of his own cousin's metamorphosis from a catholic school girl to a war criminal and a tyrant, and he wondered how her parents would feel if they were still alive.

I've been actually thinking of turning this into a full fledged film, since I myself have years of experience in acting and I know a guy who knows a guy who's an indie film director who specializes in like action and war movies.

I think it would work very well if you started giving some background. Why are they fighting? What happened before that led to this? Creating the background can let the reader feel the characters better.

[Borderlands of Rojava]

I've been actually thinking of turning this into a full fledged film, since I myself have years of experience in acting and I know a guy who knows a guy who's an indie film director who specializes in like action and war movies.

I think it would work very well if you started giving some background. Why are they fighting? What happened before that led to this? Creating the background can let the reader feel the characters better.

This was just one part of a much larger historical story. Just a little excerpt, and I haven't even really come up with the whole thing yet. I had this other idea for a scene from it which isn't really the beginning but gives it more context:

The representatives of the Tiger Militia sitting across the table from Michel were already fuming when he walked into the room and took a seat. Their commander, George Raad, furled his grey eyebrows below his silver and black hairline, and his upper lip remained as stiff as a board. "I just wanted to say how sorry I am for your tragic loss." Michel said to the elder, before the commander responded by pointedly telling him "shove your sorry up your ass. You ever lose a family member?" "We've all lost someone we love," Michel replied. "I have no idea what's even going on with my cousins an hour outside Tyre. I can't travel more than a few miles in any direction, so yes I know." "You need to get that lunatic in your ranks under control," the commander said, "or I'll do it for you." "No disrespect, but frankly this is my problem and I'll deal with it in my own time. Don't worry George, we will straighten things out and mend relations between our respective armies." "Mend relations between our respective armies?!" Commander Raad exclaimed. "I swallowed my pride when your murdering fuck of a field commander led an unprovoked assault on our checkpoint near Tabaris Square and murdered my brother. And I came here to you instead of dealing with it with extreme prejudice. Frankly Michel, I feel like I'm wasting my time. If your field commander Assaf isn't hanging by midnight tomorrow night, I will rain a shitstorm down on you the likes of which you've never seen. I'll bring you hell. Your little hit squad will be lining the streets of Beirut with their heads cut off and I'll personally see to it that if your cousins outside Tyre are alive, they receive your cut up remains in the mail for a Christmas present. Come on, let's go." The commander and his men stormed out the room and Michel was left in silence with his commanders, understanding that if they didn't kill Hannah, the entire Lebanese Forces would possibly be history by news years day of 1984, and either he would slay his own or his entire army would face a grisly end.

[Twicetagram and JYPe]

Ooooh yes
I have a short story saved in my documents. Could post now

[Free Las Pinas]

Yay! Bookmarked this and I’ll hopefully post soon, but I do look forward to seeing everyone’s stories.

[Libitina Jezebel Bartley-Wolff]

Finally, a platform to write short stories. I was thinking of making a sequel to Joji's current and only book, Francis of the Filth, though this is inconsistent with the Filthy Frank omniverse canon.

I was planning to post soon, but the major problem is, I had a writer's block.

[Twicetagram and JYPe]

Critique wanted.

Not All Heroes Survive
It wasn’t that I was too nervous to go. If I were still myself, I would have willingly gone. I wasn’t scared either; If I had still recovered myself, I would be ready to face my downfall. But I couldn’t. At least not like this. My greatest adversary. My greatest rival. I had to face her. There was no other way I could escape from.
A shadow of my former self, I timidly stepped into the arena. It was full of spectators, cheering for the to-be hero, me. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t the hero I had expected to be. Nor did they expect me to be a degraded version of myself.
Why was my society like this? Others had moved on from the ashes of Rome. The downfall of Constantinople. The ruins of Warsaw. So why hadn’t we? We, the people who still enjoyed gladiator fighting. We, the people who loved the sight of the blood of the innocent, pouring out from the street. Why couldn’t we be like any other nation? Why was this country stuck in time travel, stuck in the past? Were we not willing? Was the dictator not ready to accept this new technological revolution? Only God could tell.
Not before long, my other contestant was revealed, but I didn’t even need the reveal. I already knew who I was fighting since a few months ago. But I needed to seal either her or my fate. I knew self-sacrifice was looked down upon in this dystopia. I needed to rid myself of negative thoughts.
My contestant had yellow fur and a pink mane. A pretty simple colour scheme, but still quite unique. The moment we laid eyes on each other we were given a flashback to our schooling years. The fun we had together. All the funny things we did and wholesome secrets we disclosed. All that joy now dissipated into the humid atmosphere.
I could see her mouth a barely noticeable ‘Good luck’. Funny, since usually I should have been the one delivering the message. Now on to the fight.
Over here, we don’t really follow the Roman style of fighting. However, some things stayed the same. The gladiator was usually fully protected, whereas the opponent had little to no armour.
The bell was rung, and our fight had started. Never in fighting history had a gladiator lost, let alone died, to a female opponent. I could be the first one, depending on how I wanted the story to be written. I slowly made circles around her. I couldn’t even remember her name. All I could remember was her loving embrace around me, as I cried on her shoulder. It was my farewell party. That was the most depressing day, being separated from everyone whom I knew and felt. That was the only time where I felt comfortable. Now I was fighting the person who gave me light when I was trapped in the dark.

---

I could clearly remember that time when she was taken away from me. It was a Friday morning. I could swear that it was the 13th that day. She had come to smuggle in some letters from my parents, friends, relatives. It was against the ‘holy’ law, but she didn’t care. The bravery she had was more than I could ever have. She was telling me about her friend’s ‘little accident’ at the library one day when the footsteps of the patrol troop could be heard. I hid behind the bush, while gesturing to her to move. She didn’t get the memo however, and she was easily caught.
‘Is anyone else here?’ The leader asked. He had a reputation of making even the hardest of hearts tear up. Thus, it was no surprise that she began to sob at that sentiment.
‘Don’t act cowardly around here. Now, tell me truthfully. Who was here? I promise I won’t hurt you,’ You know people are lying when you hear that last part.
‘N-no one,’ she muttered in her breath.
‘I don’t see the logic here. Why were you here alone?’ the sir asked. Sweet-sounding people can be so deadly.
‘I-I wanted to be a gladiator…’ Her voice trailed off. I tried to intervene, but my gut feelings kicked in and prevented me from going too far.
‘A female gladiator? Best excuse ever. Excuse me, miss, but you’ll be following me. Troops, seize her,’ He somehow sounded very calm at arresting a teenage girl who wasn’t in the wrong at all. The rage in me was greater than the seven seas, but thankfully my self-control was good. From that day on, I was plotting a way to escape this calamity and start a new life. Thankfully, today was my chance.

---

I woke up from my daydream when I heard a sword swooping by my ear. I had to focus on this fight. In my short reverie, I had made up my mind. An ending that would be a win-win situation for us. We started the combat. Every move I made had to be performed carefully, with great detail. This was the only way my purpose would be achieved.
This fight was taking very long. We fought on. I had some minor scratches, while she looked completely tattered. But this was all along my plan. Just as it looked as if my opponent was going to die any moment, I whispered to her, ‘We’ll die together. You see this opening in my neck armour? Yeah stab me there. We’ll die together.’ While she looked like she wanted very badly to object, she also had this look in her eyes, this look that she wanted a paradise together with me. With readiness in her eyes, she saw this small slit on my windpipe and put her sword through it. My last memories were the smile we both shared. I knew I had stained my family’s reputation, but that didn’t matter. I would be in paradise with the person I cherished the most.

[Wuchu]

Here's the first story I actually wrote for Wuchu. I had meant to add it to my official factbooks, but I deleted it a day after publishing it.

I was smoking a cigar up on the hill, while observing a dog greet another, in the manner they tend to do, when Pentti appeared to tell me that strange visitors had arrived. We don’t usually have visitors, given that we inhabit a liminal dimension at the intersection of all other possible worlds. Most of the time we get sorcerers, mad scientists, Satanists, precocious children, and people who walk into strange doors.

They were three men, triplets, all tall, blond, and well-built. They could only distinguished by the colour of their eyes: One brown, one green, and one grayish blue. Yaniv had already found himself there, somehow, and was drinking coffee with them.

“I’ve only recently been studying quantum mechanics, actually,” he said. “String theory, in particular.”

“What’s going on here?” I said.

Yaniv turned to me and said, “I was just telling our guests about how I’m trying to understand the Other Place through quantum mechanics.”

“I’m surprised they still haven’t hanged themselves,” said Pentti.

“Your studies are interesting,” the one with green eyes told Yaniv.

“But any attempts at understanding the Other Place are misguided,” the one with brown ones continued.

“Although your human reason persists in understanding the phenomenon of the plane as if it continued to follow the physical laws of your experienced nature,” went on the one with gray eyes, “its true nature is beyond any possibility of your comprehension. It is arbitrary and impossible.”

“Like reasoning with Kotera,” said Pentti.

“But surely there has to be some kind of defining laws in this place?” said Yaniv. “Or else, how would we function?”

“Like your butt,” said Pentti.

“Stop,” I said.

“Okay.”

“Believe it or not,” said Green, “this discussion is intimately tied with the reason we’re here.”

I sat down. “How the hell is a butt related to why you’re here?”

They laughed politely, and Green answered, “No. Not that. The discussion of this place, I mean, and how it works.”

“What about it?”

“We were sent here to tell you that your home must be destroyed,” said Green.

“What the hell,” said Pentti. “Rude.”

“Destroyed?” said Yaniv. “Why? Did we do something wrong?”

“He has deemed it worthy of direct destruction,” said Gray.

“Who’s he?” I said.

“The Infinite, Eternal, All-Powerful He,” said Brown.

“Where’s She?” said Pentti. “That’s sexist.”

“God, basically?” said Yaniv. “Why? I don’t get it.”

Gray turned towards me. “You must be aware that this place is a great den of iniquity.”

“Hell yeah it is,” I said. “A week ago Yaniv opened a portal to a world filled with animals that poop pure crystal meth.”

“They bite,” said Pentti.

“We’re thinking of farming them."

“This place must be destroyed,” said Green, suddenly solemn. “It is His will.”

Gray said, “It is through His omnibenevolence that you are being warned.”

Brown spoke. “We must go. You have seven days to evacuate. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Then, they vanished, as if they were never there.

Just as they did, Mikah came in, carrying a tray of coffee. She stopped cold and, eyebrows furrowed, said, “What the hell? Where are they?”

“They disappeared,” said Pentti. “Just like my will to live.”

“What did they want?” she asked.

I sighed and leaned back against my chair. “They want us to leave because some kind of madlad wants to destroy Wuchu.”

“What!” said Mikah. “I made them coffee!”

“I’ll have one coffee,” said Yaniv..

“No.” She sat down and placed the tray on the coffee table. “It’s all mine now.” She starts to chug one down. Coffee streamed down the sides of her mouth onto her shirt, and when she emptied the cup she threw it on the floor so that it shattered.

“My coffee,” she said, as she began to drink another, although this time a bit slower.

“We can’t just leave,” said Pentti, who was now sitting beside Mikah, with his arm across the backrest of the couch and his legs crossed. “We have to do something.”

“I know,” I said. “Maybe we can bargain for it.”

Yaniv spoke up. “You’re going to talk to that ‘He’ thing.”

“I’m going to need to visit Alpha,” I told him. “Maybe it knows about this ‘He’.”

“Can we go with you this time?” asked Yaniv. “I would really like to meet Alpha and ask him questions.”

“It. Alpha doesn’t have a gender,” I said. “And I’ve told you, your head would explode, or something. I don’t really know. But your chakras are misaligned too much, or something, and you wouldn’t be able to handle existing near it.”

I continued. “Or at least, we're not going to test it. There have been exceptions, and some individuals just have more resistance than others, but I’m not willing to take the chance.”

“I’m willing!” said Mikah, whose shirt was now drenched in coffee, and whose mouth was all black. “And I don’t even care if I die honestly.”

I raised a hand. “Mikah, please.”

“Can I give you a list of questions to ask Alpha?” asked Yaniv.

I looked askance at him. “A short one.”

“Alright,” he responded. “I’ll prepare one immediately.”

“They were hot,” commented Pentti. “Anyone else think so?”

Everyone murmured in agreement.

“Too bad they want to murder us,” said Mikah.

“That’s what I meant,” said Pentti.

[Twicetagram and JYPe]

-snip-

I actually like this piece. The small stops in between as you're thinking makes the piece look more realistic. The various instances where you describe yourself with negative words makes it more sad to read. The story premise is also fitting and believable. I'm gonna give this a star.

-snippity snip-

This piece pulled my heartstrings. The transformation of your cousin really opened me up to how easily and drastically a person can change, especially with war. I feel that this piece can make a really good story or even a short film on the effects war has on people. Overall good job!

[Sanghyeok]

Critique wanted.

Not All Heroes Survive
It wasn’t that I was too nervous to go
..
..
..
I cherished the most.

I think the entire story manages to have the reader in suspense. The various plot twist in the story is also surprising, I did not expect any of them, and it goes against the reader's expectations. I would like a little bit more backstory (maybe during the flashback) about what sort of society the protagonist is in. Overall, I like it a lot!

[Elvato]

When I was a small child I wanted to go in my pool without knowing how to swim. I spent 2 minutes underwater with my eyes closed before one of my father’s friends came and saved me from potentially dying

[Twicetagram and JYPe]

Critique wanted.

Not All Heroes Survive
It wasn’t that I was too nervous to go
..
..
..
I cherished the most.

I think the entire story manages to have the reader in suspense. The various plot twist in the story is also surprising, I did not expect any of them, and it goes against the reader's expectations. I would like a little bit more backstory (maybe during the flashback) about what sort of society the protagonist is in. Overall, I like it a lot!

As for the backstory, I'd imagine the protagonist and the girl he was fighting was part of a clan who was invaded by the Romans, hence him being a gladiator. In this society, adult men who were fit and were conquered by the Romans were automatically qualified as gladiators, although I'm not sure about the historical truth.

[Twicetagram and JYPe]

When I was a small child I wanted to go in my pool without knowing how to swim. I spent 2 minutes underwater with my eyes closed before one of my father’s friends came and saved me from potentially dying

Owwwwww
I hope you're fine now

[Sanghyeok]

I think the entire story manages to have the reader in suspense. The various plot twist in the story is also surprising, I did not expect any of them, and it goes against the reader's expectations. I would like a little bit more backstory (maybe during the flashback) about what sort of society the protagonist is in. Overall, I like it a lot!

As for the backstory, I'd imagine the protagonist and the girl he was fighting was part of a clan who was invaded by the Romans, hence him being a gladiator. In this society, adult men who were fit and were conquered by the Romans were automatically qualified as gladiators, although I'm not sure about the historical truth.

For some reason, the reference to Warsaw made me think this is post-modern.

[Dominioan]

Cool thread! I have no writing talent, but I will make sure to read them when people post them!

[Twicetagram and JYPe]

As for the backstory, I'd imagine the protagonist and the girl he was fighting was part of a clan who was invaded by the Romans, hence him being a gladiator. In this society, adult men who were fit and were conquered by the Romans were automatically qualified as gladiators, although I'm not sure about the historical truth.

For some reason, the reference to Warsaw made me think this is post-modern.

Wait wha-
Oh I reread it. I didn't know why I referenced Warsaw lol since I wrote this long ago. It could possibly be a new-Roman empire in modern times, or the ancient Romans went as far north as Warsaw(alternate history time!).

[Greater Kamilistan]

Gonnna tag here , might write short stories here

[Gondwana island]

My attempt
The nightmares
Arthur tossed and turned in his bed as he saw his own body being ripped apart right in front of him
As those strange beasts cackled in his mind over and over again.it had 15 years since he had seen that god forsaken island but he still could hear the growls and roars.at least he was off that island forever,no one would want to go there.he struggled to go to sleep for the rest of the night.

A knock on the door had woken him up.he struggled to get out of the bed,he slowly opened the door.harold who had been with him on the island was there to greet him.
“Harold Why are you here?”
“Well Arthur you know the island we went to all those years ago?”
“The island of nightmares?”
“We have to go there again”
“What no I am not setting foot on that island again”
“The prince regent somehow got Parliament on his side.we are leading a expedition to the island.”
Somehow they convinced him to come along
He regretted it so much for coming along

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

I actually just wrote a canonical short story for my Alastair drama. Am definitely going to hang around this thread...I love fiction!

https://www.nationstates.net/page=dispatch/id=1430117

[Gondwana island]

/bump

[The Imperial Reach]

...aaaaand bookmarked. I'll be back.