r/FictionWriting

Hello, I am a newbie writer currently writing fanfics to learn the craft of writing firsthand before attempting any original work.

Most of the action scenes I write are basic and lack the visual iconic lens. I want to write high quality action scene like James Dashner and Pierce Brown do.

Any advice?

How do you know you have a great idea?

I'd like to open with I'm a hobbyist so I'm not really trying to go too in depth/do too much research, and I'd like to ask to please keep that in mind! Also english isn't my first language so there might be some mistakes

Like the title says- how do I avoid having names sound too western? Specifically in characters. I'm working on high fantasy settings that doesn't necessarily take place in a setting where it would be appropriate. However, I'm having trouble with naming characters that sound like they've got blonde hair and blue eyes (lmao) or sometimes the setting would be in a "tribal"-ish(wording?) setting and of course trying to find a name for those are difficult.

I do utilize tools like name generators on occasion, but those can only do so much! Especially with surnames. I've looked at both fiction and non-fiction name generators but a lot of them just sound too western/just squish two English words together and call it a day (Hargrave, Thorne, Wildheart, Shadowfang) even though I've tried looking for names in different regions!

I've also watched many youtube videos on how to name characters, but they're more of the same advice (what fits your character, what fits the theme, the meaning, etc etc) that doesn't exactly answer my question.

What can I do to that can help me come up with names that WOULD fit in a fantasy setting but doesn't have the pitfalls of my characters sounding like they're some random white person?

I would also like to ask the same question when it comes to naming geography like towns and countries and such.

Thank you in advance!

I feel like description is one of those parts of writing that sounds simple until you actually sit down and try to do it.

You know what the room looks like in your head. You know what the character is doing. You know what the scene is supposed to feel like. But then you start writing and suddenly it feels like you are either saying too little, explaining too much, or repeating what the reader already understands.

Like if a character says “sorry” and then the tag says “he apologized.” Technically it makes sense, but the reader already got it. Same with something like “I’m furious” followed by “he said angrily.” At some point, the description is not adding anything. It is just standing next to the sentence and pointing at it.

I think this is where a lot of writers get stuck. They treat description like one huge thing they have to master all at once. But maybe it is easier to split it up. Describing action is not the same as describing a place. Describing a character is not the same as explaining worldbuilding. Describing what someone sees is not the same as showing what a moment costs them physically or emotionally.

So I’m curious how other people approach this. When you write, do you naturally describe too much or too little? Do you think good description is about adding more detail, or about choosing the right detail and trusting the reader more?

Can you use history as simply the setting for your novel (the main genre is different) with casual historical inaccuracies? Instead of trying to be time accurate and stick to the exact facts and language of the time?

I am talking about things like using modern slang in a novel set in rococo or Victorian period, or letting some modern church customs related to marriage etc, nothing too jarring or futuristic.

This is a work in progress and is what made me do the work order set of stories I had already posted. This is set in my fictional town called Shadow Valley. It still has the same characters from before. But here is what I have so far . I hope you all enjoy it .

Chapter I: The Dying Alternator

The Fading Canvas Electrical Services work van was a reliable beast, but even beasts have their limits. On a nameless stretch of highway lined with towering, skeletal pines, that limit sounded like a dying metallic scream, followed by a violent shudder.

Jake gripped the steering wheel, fighting the sudden dead weight of the power steering as the headlights flickered and died. "Hold on!" he yelled over the grinding noise.

Beside him in the passenger seat, Tabitha braced a hand against the dashboard, her other hand instinctively securing the clipboard containing their latest invoices. In the back, surrounded by coils of copper wire, PVC piping, and the specialized, heavily modified EMF meters they used for their particular brand of electrical work, Mark jolted awake as his head bounced against a toolbox.

"What did you hit?" Mark groaned, rubbing his temple.

"Didn't hit anything," Jake muttered, muscling the dying van onto the gravel shoulder. The engine gave one final, pathetic cough and died. The sudden silence that washed over them was absolute, pressing against the windows like a physical weight. "Alternator just chewed itself to pieces. Belt's probably gone, too."

Tabitha clicked her flashlight on, illuminating the heavy fog that had started to roll in off the tree line. "Well, we aren't anywhere near the interstate anymore. I told you that detour looked wrong on the map." She tapped her phone screen. "No signal, either. Zero bars."

Jake sighed, popping the hood. The hiss of steam and the acrid smell of burning rubber confirmed his diagnosis. They were stranded.

"Look," Mark said, pushing the sliding door open and stepping out into the cold night air. He pointed down the road. Through the thickening, soupy fog, a faint, sickly-yellow glow pulsed in the distance. A streetlamp.

As they walked closer, leaving the dead van behind, a rusted iron sign emerged from the mist. The metal was pitted and warped, as if something had tried to melt it. It read: WELCOME TO SHADOW VALLEY.

Chapter II: The Mayor's Proposal

Shadow Valley didn't look like a town that should exist in the twenty-first century. As Jake, Tabitha, and Mark walked down the main street, their boots echoing too loudly on the cobblestones, they noticed the architecture. It was a bizarre blend of Victorian stoops and brutalist concrete structures that seemed to lean over them at impossible, vertigo-inducing angles.

The few streetlights that actually worked buzzed with an angry, erratic frequency.

"Notice the shadows?" Tabitha whispered, her eyes darting toward an alleyway. "The light's hitting that fire hydrant from the left, but the shadow is stretching out to the right."

Before Jake could answer, a set of heavy oak double doors on the nearest building swung open. A man stepped out. He was impeccably dressed in a three-piece charcoal suit that looked expensive, though the style belonged to a different decade. His smile was wide, fixed, and revealed entirely too many teeth.

"Travelers!" the man boomed, his voice carrying an odd resonance that made the tools in Mark's belt vibrate. "Or, rather, salvation! I saw your chariot expire at the town limits. Fading Canvas Electrical Services, I presume?"

"You can read a van in the pitch dark from a mile away?" Mark asked, stepping forward, his hand instinctively dropping to the heavy wrench on his hip.

"I am Mayor Silas," the man said, ignoring the question completely. He clapped his hands together. "And your arrival is nothing short of providential. Our town... suffers. The grid is failing. The old infrastructure is rotting, and the darkness is encroaching. We have been without a proper tradesman for a very, very long time."

Jake crossed his arms. "Listen, Mayor. Our van is dead. We just need to use a landline to call a tow truck, maybe find a motel for the night. We're not looking for a job."

Mayor Silas smiled wider. The skin around his eyes didn't crinkle. "I understand hesitation. Truly. But Shadow Valley is isolated. A tow truck will not come. However, if you agree to repair our central substation and stabilize the grid... I can offer compensation that will make a broken van seem like a trivial inconvenience."

Silas reached into his jacket and pulled out a leather-bound checkbook. He scribbled a number, signed it, and held it out to Jake.

Jake looked at it. He blinked, looked at Tabitha, and then looked back at the check. It was a cashier's check, drawn from a major, recognizable bank. The amount was $250,000. Upfront.

"That's to start," Silas said softly. "Finish the job, and I'll double it. We simply cannot let the lights go out."

Tabitha leaned in, inspecting the watermark. "It's real," she murmured. "But nobody pays half a million dollars to fix a local substation."

"You haven't seen our substation," Silas replied, his eyes gleaming.

Chapter III: The Anatomy of the Grid

They took the job. With $250,000, they could buy a fleet of new vans. The Mayor set them up in a sprawling, empty boarding house and directed them to the town's central power hub the next morning.

The daylight in Shadow Valley was no better than the night. The sun hung in the sky like a pale, bruised coin behind a permanent layer of gray stratus clouds. As they walked to the site, the locals finally made an appearance. They stood on their porches or behind shop windows. None of them spoke. They just watched.

"Did you see that woman's eyes?" Mark whispered as they passed a bakery. "They didn't track us. Her head moved, but her eyes stayed locked on the brick wall across the street."

"Keep your head down," Jake ordered, pushing open the rusted chain-link gate of the substation. "Let's just diagnose the issue, patch the grid, and get out of here."

But as they stepped into the main control building, all three of them stopped dead.

This wasn't a standard electrical grid. The transformers were massive, archaic things made of blackened iron and brass, but that wasn't the problem. The cables running between them weren't wrapped in standard rubber insulation. They were wrapped in a thick, leathery substance that looked horrifically organic.

Tabitha pulled out her EMF reader. The needle immediately violently pegged to the right, the device whining in distress. "Jake," she said, her voice tight. "The frequency... it's not 60 hertz. It's not AC or DC. The energy running through these lines is... shifting. It's cycling in a pattern that shouldn't be physically possible."

Jake pulled a pair of heavy-duty insulated gloves on and approached a blown breaker box. He popped the latch. Inside, instead of melted copper and tripped switches, he found thick, translucent resin, glowing faintly with a violet hue. Suspended within the resin were complex, impossible geometric shapes that seemed to fold in on themselves the longer he stared at them.

"This isn't electricity," Jake said quietly. "This is a containment field."

Chapter IV: The Things in the Dark

"Containment for what?" Mark asked, backing away from a thick power line that seemed to faintly pulse, like a vein.

Before Jake could answer, a loud, metallic CLANG echoed from beneath the floorboards. The entire substation vibrated. The lights overhead flickered, dimming to a brownish-yellow.

"The grid is failing," a voice said from the doorway.

It was Mayor Silas. He stood in the threshold, but the dim light revealed something horrifying. His shadow, cast against the concrete wall, wasn't a man. It was a sprawling, multi-limbed mass of writhing tendrils. Silas didn't seem to notice.

"The things beneath Shadow Valley have been asleep for a long time," Silas said, his voice entirely devoid of its previous charm. It sounded hollow, like wind blowing through an empty pipe. "The light keeps them dreaming. When the wires fray, when the current drops... they begin to wake. And they are very, very hungry."

"You hired electricians to fight cosmic horrors?" Tabitha snapped, stepping back toward her toolbag and grabbing a heavy-duty plasma cutter.

"I hired paranormal electricians," Silas corrected, his head tilting at a severe, unnatural angle. "Your reputation precedes you. You understand energy. You understand frequencies. You will fix the tethers, or the darkness will swallow this town, and you along with it."

With that, Silas stepped backward into the fog and vanished.

The lights flickered again, and this time, three of the massive bulbs above them shattered. The darkness that flooded the room wasn't just an absence of light. It was heavy. Cold.

From the shadows in the corner of the room, something detached itself. It looked like a hound, if a hound were made entirely of sharp angles, negative space, and eyes that burned like dying stars. It let out a sound like radio static and lunged.

"Mark, the UV rig!" Jake yelled, diving out of the way as the entity crashed into the metal console where he'd just been standing.

Mark ripped a modified halogen array from his pack, slamming the battery pack into the slot and hitting the switch. A blinding, high-intensity beam of ultraviolet light flooded the room. The entity shrieked—a sound that made their ears bleed—and dissolved into a puddle of oily black smoke.

"They're allergic to the light!" Mark yelled over the hum of the UV rig.

"Which is exactly why they're trying to destroy the town's grid," Tabitha realized, her fingers flying over the control panel. "Jake, this whole town is a lid on a jar. The electrical current is creating a spatial loop, trapping them underground. The 'wiring' is burned out because the entities are feeding on the energy to weaken the cage!"

Chapter V: Rewiring the Void

"Can we fix it?" Jake asked, pulling his own high-lumen flashlight and scanning the corners of the room as more shadowy shapes began to claw their way through the concrete floor.

"Not with copper," Tabitha said. She looked at the strange, violet resin in the breaker boxes. "But energy is energy. If I can bypass the blown transformers and route the current through our equipment, we can brute-force the frequency back into alignment. I need ten minutes!"

"You've got five!" Jake shouted. "Mark, watch her back!"

Jake grabbed a spool of heavy-duty conductive cable and sprinted toward the main generator bank. The air in the room was growing thick, tasting of ozone and old blood. Whispers echoed in his head—voices promising him eternal rest, begging him to just let the lights go out. He gritted his teeth, forcing the thoughts away.

Shadowy hands reached from the gaps between the machinery, swiping at his legs. He kicked them away, his heavy work boots connecting with things that felt like cold smoke. He reached the primary node, stripping the wire with a fluid, practiced motion, and slammed the copper directly into the biological-looking terminal. It hissed, burning his gloves, but he held it there.

Across the room, Mark was fighting a losing battle. The UV rig was running hot, the battery draining fast as a half-dozen geometric nightmares swarmed them. "Tabitha, any day now!" he roared, swinging a crowbar wrapped in live electrical tape at a monster that tried to bite him with a mouth full of static.

"Connecting the bypass... now!" Tabitha slammed a heavy lever upward.

For a second, nothing happened. Then, the Fading Canvas EMF meters in their bags shrieked in unison. A massive shockwave of pure, blinding white light erupted from the modified breakers. It swept through the room, blasting the shadows into nothingness.

The heavy, oppressive weight in the air vanished. The buzzing of the lights leveled out into a smooth, steady hum. Down below, the violent banging ceased. The cage was locked once more.

Chapter VI: The Check Clears

The sun didn't come out, but the fog over Shadow Valley lifted slightly.

Jake, Tabitha, and Mark stood by their van, breathless, covered in soot, and bruised. Mayor Silas stood on the sidewalk, his human facade perfectly reassembled, holding a set of keys.

"A masterful job," Silas said, offering the keys to Jake. "A fully repaired, upgraded heavy-duty van. Your old one has been... disposed of. And the other half of your payment has already been wired to your accounts."

Jake snatched the keys. "Don't ever call us again."

Silas chuckled, a dry, papery sound. "I won't have to. The grid will hold for another century. You have my gratitude, Fading Canvas."

They didn't look back as they drove out of Shadow Valley. As they crossed the town limits, Tabitha looked down at the GPS on her phone. The signal returned instantly. Looking at the map, there was no town for fifty miles in any direction. Just empty woods.

"Hey," Mark said from the back, breaking the long silence. He was looking at his banking app on his phone.

"What?" Jake asked, keeping his eyes glued to the interstate ahead.

"The half-million," Mark said, a slow, disbelieving smile spreading across his face. "It actually cleared."

Jake met Tabitha's eyes in the rearview mirror. They had survived another job. The Fading Canvas crew might be dealing with the horrific, the impossible, and the cosmically terrifying... but at the end of the day, a job was a job. And the pay was fantastic.

"Alright," Jake sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Let's go home."

I'm writing a fiction book based around 2 brothers, one Android, 1 human who go around the world testing out dangerous and lethal Paranormal ritual games.\n I already chapter 1 mapped out So I need some suggestions on what the next chapters to come will be. So common comment down below and what ritual games I will include ill reply to your comments.\n If I said to go with your suggestion. ( daruma san is the first chapter by the way)

So I'm new to writing and wanted to share what I have so far . These are stories 1-3 . I have more ready but I'm not sure.

But welcome to the fading canvas electral services

The Fading Canvas: Electrical Services story one

​"I’m telling you, the voltage drop across a dimensional rift is a nightmare to calculate," Jake muttered, tapping the steering wheel of the service van. Outside the windshield, the sky wasn't a sky at all, but a swirling, bruised expanse of violet and impossible greens.

​Mark, sitting in the passenger seat and clutching a clipboard like a shield, looked pale. "Tabitha didn't say anything about a rift. She just said 'residential job, water-feature installation.' And that the client was... very large."

​The radio crackled to life, Tabitha’s voice slicing through the static of cosmic background radiation. "Jake, Mark. You guys at the coordinates? The client is getting impatient. Says the primordial ooze is getting chilly."

​"We're pulling up now, Tab," Jake replied, shifting the van into park on a slab of basalt that seemed to tilt at a non-Euclidean angle. "Grab the insulated toolkit, Mark. The one rated for eldritch currents."

​The Job Site: R'lyeh

​They stepped out into a cavernous space of cyclopean stonework. Looming in the center of the subterranean abyss was the client. A mountain of gelatinous green flesh, dragon-like wings folded tightly against a massive, squamous back, and a face that was a writhing mass of tentacles. The Great Old One, Cthulhu, was staring intensely at what looked to be a massive, crater-like basin filled with bubbling, bioluminescent sludge.

​Work Order #409-Omega:

Client: Cthulhu, High Priest of the Great Old Ones.

Task: Wire the heating element and circulation pumps for a Class-IV Cosmic Hot Tub. Ensure zero temporal feedback.

​Jake walked right up to the edge of the basin, shining his flashlight into the access panel. He didn't look up at the entity. Eye contact usually meant immediate madness, and worker's comp didn't cover sanity loss.

​"Alright, let's see what we've got," Jake grunted, kneeling down. "Mark, pass me the multi-meter. Not the standard one, the one that measures reality-warping."

​"H-here," Mark stammered, handing over a device that looked like a cross between a Geiger counter and a compass.

​Splicing the Void

​The problem was obvious. The previous contractor had tried to wire a micro-singularity directly into the main breaker.

​"Amateurs," Jake sighed. "You can't just hook up a localized black hole to a standard 220-volt line. The Hawking radiation alone is going to strip the insulation off these wires, and the time dilation will make a ten-minute soak feel like a millennium. No wonder the tub isn't heating."

​Jake got to work. He stripped the cosmic conduit with his wire cutters, careful not to let the exposed strands of raw space-time touch the damp floor.

• ​Step 1: Isolate the localized gravity well.

• ​Step 2: Install a chronal-surge protector.

• ​Step 3: Splice the main power feed using a heavy-duty temporal grounding rod.

​"Hold this," Jake instructed, tossing Mark a loop of heavy, pulsing cable. "If you feel your ancestors' memories flashing before your eyes, drop it immediately."

​Jake wrestled the primary thermal regulator into place, tightening the bolts with a satisfying screech of metal. He stepped back, wiping a mixture of sweat and aether off his brow.

​"Hit the breaker, Mark!"

​Mark threw the massive switch. For a second, the universe seemed to hold its breath. Then, a deep, resonant hum vibrated through the basalt floors. The sludge in the massive basin began to churn, emitting a warm, soothing steam that smelled faintly of ozone and dead galaxies.

​Behind them, the colossal entity let out a low, rumbling noise. It wasn't a roar of world-ending fury; it sounded remarkably like a sigh of relief. A massive, clawed hand dipped a single, tentative digit into the bubbling ooze, testing the temperature.

​"Looks like we're good," Jake said, pulling out his invoice pad. "I'm going to have to charge him the standard hourly rate, plus a materials fee for the chronal-surge protector, and the non-Euclidean hazard surcharge."

​Mark let out a breath he'd been holding since they left Tennessee. "Do you think he takes a check?"

​That was a wildly successful first day on the job for the crew. What kind of monstrous entity or paranormal disaster should Jake, Tabitha, and Mark tackle for their next service call?

The Fading Canvas: Electrical Services story 2 the Forest ranger.

The service van’s heater was screaming, but the cab was still freezing. Outside, the dense, snow-choked pines of the northern boreal forest loomed like skeletal fingers against the twilight.

"I don't like this, Jake," Mark said, his breath pluming in the cold air. He was anxiously checking the locks on the van doors for the third time. "The woods are too quiet. No birds, no bugs."

"That’s because everything with a pulse knows better than to make a sound out here," Jake replied, keeping his eyes glued to the icy logging road. Jake had spent years working at an animal park before pivoting to the paranormal electrical trade; he had a healthy respect for predators. But he had an even healthier respect for the things that mimicked them.

The radio buzzed, cutting through the tense silence. "Jake, you approaching Outpost Station Four? Ranger Bella says she's expecting you. Just a heads-up, she said to ignore any voices you hear in the tree line calling for help."

"Copy that, Tabitha. We're pulling into the compound now."

The Job Site: Boreal Outpost Four

They parked inside a heavy, reinforced chain-link enclosure. Ranger Bella was waiting on the porch of the log cabin. She wore a heavy canvas parka, a tranquilizer rifle slung over one shoulder, and an expression of utter, exhausted competence.

Work Order #601-Epsilon:

Client: Ranger Bella (Department of Cryptid & Wildlife Management)

Task: Overhaul perimeter security grid. Standard thermals failing to detect Class-III Wendigo presence. Install kinetic-aether sensors and UV-spectrum floodlights.

"You the sparkys?" Bella asked, stepping off the porch. Her eyes constantly scanned the dark tree line.

"That's us," Jake said, grabbing a heavy crate of equipment from the back. "Tabitha says you're flying blind out here."

"The standard motion sensors are useless," Bella explained, leading them to the main breaker box on the side of the cabin. "Wendigos run at ambient temperature. They don't have body heat, so the FLIR cameras just see them as moving snowdrifts. Last night, one got close enough to scratch the frost off my window."

Jake nodded. "Yeah, standard IR won't cut it against a starvation spirit. We're going to swap your grid over to kinetic-aether relays. They don't look for heat; they measure the displacement of reality when something unnatural steps into the field."

Rewiring the Perimeter

The wind picked up, carrying with it a sound that made Mark drop his wire strippers.

"Hello? Is anyone out there? My car broke down..."

The voice came from the deep woods. It sounded exactly like Tabitha.

"Ignore it," Bella said flatly, not even breaking her gaze from the tree line. "It's just trying to draw you out. Focus on the box."

Jake worked fast, his fingers numb despite the heavy work gloves.

Step 1: Disconnect the useless thermal arrays from the master grid.

Step 2: Splice in the kinetic-aether sensors along the fencing, angling them toward the tree line.

Step 3: Mount the high-frequency UV strobes. Wendigos despised the ultraviolet spectrum; it simulated the sun on a molecular level.

"Jake? Mark? Come quick, I'm freezing..." the voice pleaded from the darkness, sounding terrifyingly realistic.

"Hand me the copper grounding wire," Jake grunted, ignoring the psychological warfare. He tied the new system into the cabin's main generator, locking the conduits down with heavy-duty brackets. "Alright, Bella. Give me the go-ahead."

Bella racked the bolt of her rifle with a sharp, metallic clack. "Light 'em up."

Jake flipped the main breaker.

Instantly, a low, thrumming hum vibrated through the snow. The perimeter lights snapped on—not the warm amber of the Mothman's silo, but a harsh, blinding, pale-blue ultraviolet glare that turned the snow into a glowing sea of neon.

From the tree line, a horrific, ear-piercing shriek shattered the night. The sound was a hideous blend of grinding bone and a dying elk. In the harsh UV light, for just a fraction of a second, the aether-sensors tripped. The command console on the porch lit up with red warnings, and three massive, skeletal shadows retreated violently into the deeper, darker woods, fleeing the artificial dawn.

"Perimeter secure," Jake said, closing the breaker box and snapping a heavy padlock onto the latch.

Bella finally let out a long breath, her shoulders dropping an inch. She offered Jake a rare, appreciative smirk. "Not bad, electrician. I might actually get some sleep tonight."

"Just remember to clean the sensor lenses once a month," Jake advised, handing her the clipboard to sign. "Ice buildup can cause false positives, and you don't want those UV strobes going off every time a regular moose walks by."

The Fading Canvas: Electrical Services story 3 The observatory

​"I’m telling you, Mark, the copper is singing," Jake murmured, pressing his gloved hand flat against the heavy steel door of the Blackwood Observatory. The vibration wasn't mechanical; it felt like the deep, marrow-shaking rumble of a fault line waiting to snap.

​Mark stood a few paces back, clutching his tool bag to his chest. "Tabitha said this guy was a theorist. Theorists are supposed to use chalkboards, Jake. They aren’t supposed to pull off-grid loads that brown out the entire tri-county area."

​The radio buzzed, Tabitha’s voice distorted by a heavy layer of static. "Jake, whatever this guy is running, it's messing with my telemetry. I'm reading localized gravitational anomalies. Get in, ground the system, and get out."

​Jake pushed the heavy door open.

​The Job Site: The Celestial Dynamo

​The interior of the observatory was a cathedral of madness. The massive telescope had been gutted. In its place, suspended in the center of the room, was a terrifying amalgamation of copper coils, industrial capacitors, and raw, pulsing energy. In the dead center of the machine hovered a sphere of absolute, light-devouring blackness about the size of a grapefruit.

​The air in the room was freezing, and the frost creeping up the walls wasn't from the mountain air.

​"Hawking radiation," Jake whispered, his breath crystallizing in the dark. "He’s bleeding energy out of a micro-singularity. The thermal drain is freezing the room."

​A man emerged from behind a bank of smoking servers. Dr. Elias Vance looked like he hadn't slept in a decade. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and fixed on the black sphere.

​Work Order #714-Omega:

Client: Dr. E. Vance (Independent Research)

Task: Stabilize power flow to containment grid. Prevent localized event-horizon expansion.

​"You're the electricians," Vance rasped, his voice sounding stretched, like a cassette tape played at half speed. "You have to fix the containment coils. It's tearing... the math is tearing..."

​He pointed with a trembling hand to a massive chalkboard covered in frantic, frantic calculations attempting to bridge general relativity and quantum mechanics under extreme gravitational sheer, culminating in a heavily underlined equation detailing the boundary conditions of a singularity:

$$ ds\^2 = -\\left(1 - \\frac{2GM}{rc\^2}\\right)c\^2 dt\^2 + \\left(1 - \\frac{2GM}{rc\^2}\\right)\^{-1} dr\^2 + r\^2(d\\theta\^2 + \\sin\^2\\theta , d\\phi\^2) $$

​"Look at the chalk dust," Mark whispered in horror.

​Jake looked. The dust falling from the board wasn't hitting the floor. It was suspended in mid-air, drifting agonizingly slow. The localized time dilation was already bleeding into the room. If they stayed too long, a five-minute job would cost them three weeks of their lives.

​The Diagnostic

​Jake approached the main breaker panel, which was glowing a dull, angry red. He traced the heavy conduit cables running from the wall to the massive, ringed containment coils surrounding the singularity.

​He saw the problem immediately. It was a rookie mistake, but on a cosmic scale, it was a fatal one.

​"Vance, you built the magnetic containment field on a flat, static orbital plane," Jake said, his voice hard. "You wired the sequence as if the solar system is just sitting still on a flat disk."

​"That's standard theoretical modeling!" Vance shouted, though his voice sounded far away. "The planetary orbits—"

​"Are an illusion!" Jake snapped, pulling a heavy pair of insulated bolt cutters from his belt. "We are hurdling through the void. The sun drags the planets behind it in a corkscrew. It’s a helical model that follows real physics. Your containment field is fighting the actual, physical movement of the solar system through spacetime. The sheer force of the universe trying to twist your static magnetic field into a helix is tearing the fabric of reality. That’s why it keeps blowing the mains."

​Vance stared at him, the horrifying realization dawning on his face. "The universe... it isn't expanding. I saw it through the breach, electrician. We aren't in a universe... we're inside the event horizon of a supermassive black hole. That's why it's dark. That's why..."

​Rewiring the Helix

​"Mark, we need to phase-shift the coils," Jake barked, ignoring the physicist's existential collapse. "We have to rewire the magnetic chokes into a cascading spiral. We match the helical movement, we let the energy flow with the solar system's trajectory, not against it."

​"I... I can't move my hands fast enough!" Mark cried, fighting against the creeping sludge of time dilation.

​"Push through it!"

​Jake slammed his hands into the high-voltage panel. Sparks showered the room, freezing mid-air like glittering, deadly stars.

• ​Step 1: Disconnect the planar grounding loops.

• ​Step 2: Stagger the magnetic relays to fire in a continuous, helical sequence.

• ​Step 3: Re-anchor the temporal stabilizers to the new, twisting current.

​Jake wrestled the thick copper cables, his muscles burning as gravity itself seemed to pull at his joints. He could hear the hum of the machine changing. It went from a jagged, tearing scream to a deep, rhythmic thrum. He was literally wiring the machine to spin in tandem with the Milky Way.

​"Hit the bypass, Mark! Now!"

​Mark threw his entire body weight onto the heavy lever.

​The machine violently shuddered. The rigid, flat rings of the containment field unlocked and began to spin, lifting and dropping in a beautiful, mesmerizing double-helix pattern. The crushing weight in the room instantly vanished. The suspended chalk dust crashed to the floor. The freezing temperature stabilized.

​In the center of the spinning helix, the black sphere shrank, stabilizing into a perfectly smooth, silent marble of dark matter.

​Jake stepped back, chest heaving, his heavily insulated gloves smoking.

​Vance was on his knees, weeping quietly. "We're inside it. We're all just trapped inside it."

​Jake packed his tools quickly, not wanting to look at the dark sphere a second longer than necessary. Some truths were too big for the human mind to handle, and Jake wasn't paid to be a therapist for the damned.

​"I'm leaving the invoice on the console, Doc," Jake said, his voice flat. "Do me a favor. Don't look out the window anymore. Just pay the bill."

​With the fabric of reality temporarily patched, the crew survived the sheer horror of cosmic truths.

Each pill grants you a package of 3 distinct abilities sorted by tiers (T1 > T2 > T3$).You will be fighting Superman in a Death Arena that is about the size of a football field. You have no prep time.

*Each Use of Kryptonite Emission gives you a 5% chance of a fatal heart attack. The emitted kryptonite will nerf Superman for approximately 40 seconds.

View Poll

The Catch for Each Pill:

Pill 1: Staying transformed for over 2 hours permanently overwrites your own mind with theirs. You have to constantly revert to yourself, meaning you can never permanently live a fake life

Pill 2: You must hold your breath to stay invisible. The exact millisecond you take even the tiniest inhale or exhale, you only have 5 seconds until you pop back into plain sight

Pill 3: Triggers an analog/thermal flash revealing your approximate location (100-150 meters off), and leaves you exposed to radiation. The more uses, the more your health begins to deteriorate.

Pill 4: Every jump causes physical exhaustion, requiring a short cooldown. Worse, there is a chance your quantum particles fail to realign, causing you to instantly blip out of existence and die. Your first teleport carries a 0.01% chance of death, and the risk increases by 0.05% with every subsequent use

Which Pill are you Taking?

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hey there

i have a question for writers/ authors with published works who were told to quit writing because they were bad at it. how long did it take you to get better and love your own writing? and what genuinely worked for you?

Catch of The Day - Part 1 : Barrow's Reach

Everything is dying. My mind drifted as I gazed out over the slowly rotting buildings of the small fishing town of Barrow’s Reach. Living by the sea is often romanticized—the salty air akin to some miracle drug that brings youth and vibrance back to those it touches. Those people never spent long by the sea. They never talk about the slow death the salt brings. Standing at my open door, I feel the salt soaking deep into my creaking bones. Neglected structures will start to fester under its caress. Metals corrode, iron rusts, and wood swells and cracks. I see signs of this everywhere wherever I look. Normally this wouldn’t be the biggest issue, however the town was broke and could only afford to repair the essentials. I see tarp patches applied temporarily to gaping wounds in walls and roofs, imagining them hanging on desperately against the long nights of frigid rain. Eventually lumber would be gathered to cover the holes, but it was always a shoddy job and each repair left the buildings looking further scarred.

I looked out to the ocean, once the source of our prosperity and now the very force that’s stamping us out. Another storm brewed far off on the horizon, marking the eighth one this week. The black clouds and violent winds would drive fear into any seafarer’s heart. Frequent storms swallowing unlucky vessels was bad for business, so most of our patrons left and never came back. 
I stretched my arms above my head and cracked my back, letting out a grunt before grabbing my coat and walking through the freezing damp of autumn. I was headed to the docks to share a beer with Silas and dwell in each other's misery. 

“Morning Jack,” Silas mumbled as I approached. He was sitting in an old wooden chair, sipping a beer as he looked out over the empty docks to the ocean. I pulled a chair up beside him and grabbed a drink of my own.

His old white hair and beard betrayed his age and experience, and he took care to keep them clean and professional looking. He looked as though a rugged captain from some fictional novel had stepped from the pages and fate had decided his lot was with this decrepit place. He was practically the spirit of this town, which made his haggard appearance these days all the more telling. 

“Any ships scheduled to come in today?” I asked, already knowing the answer. He laughed bitterly and took a swig. I joined him in silence as we watched the waves.

Silas always liked his drink, but lately he’d gotten more intimate with his vice. I could tell the state of Barrow’s Reach was weighing on him. This place meant a lot to him, and he was always seen as a kind of leader since he ran the docks. He always went out of his way to help others, but now there was a problem that wasn’t so easily fixed.
Silas broke the silence. 

“The Harlows got rid of their boat today. Stripped it of everything valuable and sold the rest as scrap.” I looked over in surprise. 

“I didn’t know they were selling it. They were so proud of that damned thing,” I said, feeling a depressive weight in the air. “I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this. I can’t really afford to just up and buy a new place somewhere else, and lord knows no one will buy any of the buildings here.” Silas glanced over at me then returned his gaze to the sea.
 
“There’s money out there still, you just need the balls to grab it.” I looked over at him, curious to see if he planned to say more, but he just took another swig. I was about to press him further when the clunking of boots on the dock grabbed my attention. Looking over my shoulder, I could see Caleb approaching us, shielding his eyes from a sudden strong gust of biting wind, his short blond hair whipped into a frenzy much to his annoyance.

“What brings you out here on this lovely day?” I called out to him. Caleb was probably the smartest person in Barrow’s Reach when it came to engineering, and he tended to have an ego about it. We didn’t always get along, but he wasn’t a bad kid. A bit young, being in his early twenties, and hadn’t yet had the confidence knocked out of him by life. 

“I’m here to talk to Silas, not you,” he said in a huff before turning to the man in question. “Look, I’ve thought it over and I’m in. You’d probably all be dead without me anyways, and I need the money.” He caught my interest. What is he talking about? I thought. Silas looked Caleb over. 
“Didn’t think you’d chew it over so quick, boy. Either way, I’d be glad to have you aboard.”
I cleared my throat, reminding them of my presence. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Jack. I planned to let you in on it later today. I just wanted to enjoy the quiet for a bit.” 

“What’s Caleb on about, Silas? Don’t tell me you plan to go out in these waters.” Silas took another sip and tossed the empty bottle aside. 

“And would you rather I sit here and let us all rot? Listen here, boy. I’ve got it all figured out. We can bring the town back with a bit of capital, and Brine assures me he can get us just that.” At the mention of Brine, everything started clicking into place.

Brine was a hermit. He lived in a shack that was distanced from the rest of the town and he only stopped by when he needed something. His figure was imposingly large, and one couldn’t help but feel that he could snap you like a twig if he so desired. He always seemed disinterested in everyone else or the state of the town. He rarely spoke and when he did, his gruff and rumbling voice was a perfect match to his appearance. He was the boogeyman to the children of the town, a fact that he seemed to encourage so they wouldn’t bother him. Brine was also the fisherman that caught the first Violet Ghost, and the only one stupid enough to still brave these waters that could manage to catch any.

“Brine agreed to this?” I asked Silas incredulously.
“He did, though he didn’t seem happy about it.”

This didn’t surprise me. Despite being able to catch such a valuable fish, the arrival of the storms seemed to give him a superstitious concern towards them that he kept to himself. I’d heard others say they’ve seen him out on his boat, staring into the water and muttering to himself.

“Are you crazy, Silas? Sure Brine has caught some of the fish, but it’s not like he’s venturing into the actual storms. We’ve already lost good people to them, and if anything happens to you, the town is as good as dead.” Silas seemed to simmer a bit at my words. 

“The town is already dead, Jack!” he barked as he stared me straight in the eyes. “Do you really think things are going to get any better on their own? Look around you Jack, this town is doomed unless something drastic is done.” He turned to look out at the waves as the fresh storm slowly kicked them up. “I’ve thought it over for a long time, believe me boy. I can’t see another way. Just one good haul of that accursed fish and we can save Barrow’s Reach. People are willing to give away a fortune for the damned thing!”

His words resonated with the hopelessness I’d felt in this town. I couldn’t deny that a better option felt elusive to me. I also felt a bit of shame rising within me. It was clear that Silas hadn’t given up on this town, or us. Resignation hadn’t claimed him like it had for many of us.

“Look here, Jack,” Silas said in a gentler tone. “I know it’s risky, and that’s why I won’t be upset if any of you don’t feel up to the task. Think it over a bit, alright? We won’t be setting off for another three days. I don’t need your answer till then.” He patted my shoulder and walked away with Caleb, the two of them discussing their plans. I stared after them for a moment, and then a fresh wind and its chill encouraged me to save my thinking for a warmer place. I trudged off towards the local bar, the best place to go when you have your fair share of worries. Behind me, the ocean storm continued to grow.

***

The wooden door creaked loudly as I pushed through it into Salt Water Tavern, the only place to get alcohol in Barrow’s Reach. I saw Elias Murdock, or Eel as the locals called him, facedown on the bar counter snoring while the bartender, Ferris, listened to the radio. He got the nickname Eel on account of him being as skinny as one. He’d managed to wriggle out of several situations at sea that could have easily spelled his end. People joked that even Davey Jones couldn’t catch the slippery bastard. His face was wrinkled with advanced age, and his white hair was sparse. He’d spent all 78 years of his life in Barrow’s Reach and had everyone’s respect. I pulled out the chair next to him and ordered a drink. I knew he was likely to be here, and I could use the sage wisdom of the old sea dog right now. I gave his shoulder a shake, slowly rousing him from his slumber.

Eel mumbled a bit as he slowly opened his eyes and stared up at me. He quickly straightened up and clapped my back with a laugh. “Jacky boy! Good to see you! I just had myself the sauciest dream of a mermaid. Dreams o’ mermaids bring good luck, ye know?” Eel’s words were accented with a sailor’s tongue, and his wide smile had only a couple of crooked teeth and a lot of gums. I did my best to return a smile that matched his own, but my worry must have been evident. He began to frown as he stared intently at me. “That serious, eh?” He mumbled in concern. He stood up and motioned for me to follow him to a table where we could talk better in private. His joints creaked almost as much as the wooden chair as he and I sat down. “What’s ailing ye, Jacky?”
“It’s Silas. Apparently he’s planning to go out on the ocean with Brine and some others.” I said, leaning forward. “He’s determined to go out there and risk his life. I’m not going to pretend I don’t get where he’s coming from, but is it really worth the risk?” Eel nodded along with my words, waiting for me to pause before chiming in.

“I be knowing about his plan, Jacky. I’m already enlisted for the trip.” Eel had an almost apologetic look on his face as he continued. “This place has been my home my entire life. This is where I spent my childhood, as well as the happiest years of my life with Charlotte, god rest ‘er soul. I’m getting old, Jacky. I still have enough salt an’ spirit for one last trip. Soon I won’t be much help anymore, an’ I’d rather give back to Barrow’s Reach while I still can.” The shame I felt when listening to Silas as he passionately declared his resolve came back again. No one was pressuring me except my own conscience.

“I suppose if you’re on board there’s no reason for me to back out.”

“Listen Jack, this be dangerous. I won’t tell anyone who is set on going to turn around, but if ye be having any pause, ye shouldn’t go. The waters be unforgiving these days, and I be knowing that there’s even worse out there than just storms. I know the ocean well, an’ she be hiding things. Ol’ Scratch be a devious bastard.” I studied his face, trying to determine if he was talking about a sailor’s superstition or something more. I was never a firm believer in the superstitions that were so common among my peers, but I respected them nonetheless. I always figured it was a safer bet to follow along in case there was some truth to them. “Remember tha’ big clunker of a ship tha washed ashore?”

I remembered. It was during the time when commercial fishing vessels were going missing. When the Violet Ghost first appeared from the deep and their exquisite taste was discovered, a sort of gold rush occurred off our shores. A brand new species, never before seen, and it appeared in our waters. We profited greatly, however the storms soon followed. The storms had claimed many ships and scared off all our lucrative new patrons. We kept waiting for them to pass, but they never did. They went on and on, day after day. It was a curse, and our fishing industry slowly withered and died. Now people paid handsomely for even a chance to get a hold of one of those fish, but many lives have been lost in the pursuit. One morning we woke up to find one of these missing boats had miraculously run aground. It had been written off as likely being at the bottom of the ocean when it disappeared. The sheriff and several experienced fishermen went aboard the vessel to look for the crew. Eel himself was on the team. Hours passed, and that giant metal carcass remained silent as a grave. Not one crew member was found. Everyone assumed a particularly nasty storm took everyone overboard and that was that.
“Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

“They said it were the ocean that swept them all away, but it weren’t no wave that took the crew, Jacky. There were bad omens everywhere. I saw the scuffs on floors and railings of men bein’ dragged overboard. There were even some bloody nails left behind where they tried to grab hold of somethin’. And the holes, Jacky! Small as a needle-point they were! All over—I never saw anythin’ like it before. Maybe it were a Scylla that took them. Either way, it be bad news.” As I sat there taking his words in, he gave me a hearty pat on the shoulder and stood up. “Leave it to us, Jack. Stay warm and don’t be risking it unless you mean it.” Eel walked to the bar and dropped a small wad of cash on the counter, giving a nod to the bartender before stepping out into the cold and leaving me with my thoughts.

I ordered a drink from Ferris and sat with my thoughts for a while. I felt torn between feelings of guilt and self-preservation. I knew that Brine and his familiarity with these storms gave us an edge, but it was still a massive risk. I stewed in my thoughts for a while, eventually paying Ferris and heading out. As another clap of thunder rolled across the waves, I looked out at the water. Our harbor, which had always been bustling during my youth, lay silent as a grave. I sighed and turned away, trudging back home. I knew that despite my worries, I’d still be joining them in three days.

***

I’d let Silas know I was in the next morning. He seemed happy with my decision and told me that there was a meeting with Brine at his hut the night before we would leave. I busied myself with helping my neighbors repair new holes in their roofs, and before I knew it, the time to meet Brine had come. The path to Brine’s home was not well travelled. Vegetation grew on the trail at various spots and I could feel the trees growing thick as I followed Silas and his lantern. Before long, we found ourselves at Brine’s rickety doorstep. With a solid rap of his knuckles, Silas announced our presence and after a brief pause the door creaked open. Brine stood tall and imposing in his doorway, practically filling the frame. He looked us over and motioned us inside, closing the door behind with only a grunt of acknowledgement. There in the room stood the rest of the crew. Apparently we were the last to arrive. Caleb and Eel were bickering. Caleb found sailor superstitions to not just be silly, but downright infuriating. Eel however took these things as gospel, and it led to more than a few quarrels.

“Now look here, Elias. If I want to bring a banana with my lunch, I’m going to bring one. I don’t care about your stupid bad luck. It’s a goddamn banana, not the harbinger of evil!” Eel bristled at Caleb’s words. Caleb had a habit of calling Eel by his first name like a mother scolding their child.

“Don’t be disrespectin’ the ways of the sea, boy! This trip be dangerous as is, and having you blunder through curses and bad omens is the last thing we need!” I turned myself away from the two and looked at the others.

 I was surprised to see two others had apparently joined us. One was a middle-aged man called Reid, and the other was a scrawny young man by the name of Pete. Reid, the man I was less familiar with, was an experienced deckhand I’d seen around town but never really interacted with. Pete, I was more familiar with. He was also a deckhand, however he had much less experience on the waters before the storms hit. His father had been sick for a while, so I wasn’t surprised to see him jumping at the chance for money.

I gave everyone a brief wave, preferring not to be dragged into the ongoing fight, and looked around the room. Brine was certainly eccentric, with a very particular interest in decor. His walls had various charms made of fishbones and rough wooden carvings that decorated the room. The wooden walls were unpainted, and the floor had no carpets. All of his furniture consisted of wood or metal. Considering his house wasn’t the best at keeping the humid air out, it was probably best to avoid too many softer comforts that would mold. As I continued to look around, my eyes landed on what was without a doubt the most interesting thing in the room: a stuffed Violet Ghost hanging from his wall. Various wooden charms hung from its body in a quantity and manner that seemed almost paranoid. Despite these decorations, the beauty of the fish was untarnished. Deep violet scales seemed to refract the light, causing faint rainbows to slowly dance on the walls as the bodies occupying the room shifted in the light. A cloth like membrane draped from it’s body, a transparent light pink. One could easily imagine the membrane dancing in the water as it swam. Despite its beauty, I felt an undue bitterness inside me as if this creature were to blame for the storms that ruined our town.
 
Brine lumbered into the room and dropped a heavy bag onto a nearby table with a loud thud causing everyone to jump and turn to face him. He eyed Silas with a look of irritation that would have made my blood turn cold if I had been the target before speaking.

“I see you all still plan on dying tomorrow.” His gaze swept across the room, looking each of us in the eyes as it passed. “I’m still of the opinion that this is complete lunacy, but I’ve been reminded of an obligation by our wonderful captain that I’m bound to uphold,” Brine said as his harsh gaze turned upon Silas. “And so I’m to do my best to make sure at least some of you come back. We’ll be playing by my rules here, and I won’t hesitate to throw you overboard if you risk our hide by disobeying the captain.”

Everyone stayed silent. It was apparent by his tone that he wasn’t exaggerating. Brine turned to look at the Violet Ghost on the wall. He seemed briefly concerned, but quickly shook his face and turned back to the table, pulling out a map and unrolling it. Meanwhile, Silas stepped to the front and turned to face everyone. He carried himself with a seriousness I hadn’t seen in him in years.

“Now, I want to make sure everyone knows what position everyone else has on the boat,” Silas said, stern and clear. “As I’m sure you are already aware, I’ll be the captain of our expedition.” He clapped Brine across the back. “Brine here will be my first mate. He’s the most experienced with these storms, so I’ll be needing his direct assistance as we navigate.” Brine simply grunted in response. “Next, we have Caleb as our engineer, and Eel will handle bait prep and running the longline.” Silas turned to look at me. “You, Jack, will be the deck-lead. Keep Pete and Reid, our deckhands, on track and make sure orders are carried out swiftly. You may also need to lend a hand to Eel now and then. We don’t have the biggest crew, so some of us will have a few extra duties.” I nodded in response. I had past experience as a deck-lead so I wasn’t too surprised by this assignment. Silas stepped over to where Brine had the map unrolled and the two began going over the plan for our expedition.

The plan seemed solid, which helped build my confidence in the trip despite Brine’s warnings. For the most part, we were following standard procedure when approaching stormy waters. We would set out when a storm at our destination had reached it’s peak, that way it should be calm by the time we reach it. If it hadn’t calmed down enough, we would simply wait within a safe range until it did. Otherwise, the goal was to try and run the longline for at least four hours, though that could change based on the weather. The ship was already outfitted with jacklines, and we had a harness and tether for each crew member to help prevent any overboards. Brine also insisted on bringing various small charms aboard. He was just as superstitious as Eel, though his interests tended to lean more towards the occult. I wasn’t going to argue against anything that might increase our odds. The two finished up the run-through of tomorrow’s plan and looked up at us as if waiting for something.

“Well, any questions? I don’t want anyone screwing this up, so speak up,” Brine said. I raised my hand, and he turned to look at me.

“Are you worried about anything besides the storms, Brine?” After watching the way Brine looked at the Violet Ghost, my conversation with Eel came back to me. Brine stared at me for a moment in silence.

“We’ll be messing with things no man should, Jack. I don’t know what, but I know well enough that we should be keeping far away.” Brine began rolling the map back up and packing it away. “These fish aren’t a blessing. Those who don’t understand that will find themselves choking on water.” After a pause, Brine turned his attention back to us. “Don’t be late tomorrow. We won’t be waiting around for any dawdlers.” And with that, Brine herded us to the door and slammed it shut behind us.

***

The day had come. As I arrived at the docks, everyone was busy loading and prepping the boat. Reid, Pete and Brine were doing the majority of the heavy lifting. Brine made Reid and Pete seem small and weak in comparison, carrying loads with one arm that would have taken them two. Caleb was doing a final check of everything, making sure it all seemed in order with meticulous scrutiny. Eel was getting a head start on prepping bait, the sound of his knife thumping against wood as it separated morsels from smaller fish to be used for catching our haul. Silas, meanwhile, was barking orders as he roamed the ship. He made sure everyone was organized and that every task was completed or being worked on. The boat was a smaller longline hauler left over from when we actually had money. It dragged lines underwater with hundreds of hooks across their lengths. It would serve us well so long as we manage to avoid most of the storms. If we were unfortunate and had to ditch the line, we would leave a buoy on it so we could try to find it later, although the size of the ocean made that a large gamble. We had at least one backup line, but we wouldn’t have time to replace it, so if we lost this one we would have to run another expedition. The cost of the lines also meant that the second expedition would be our last chance.

I noticed a man standing to the side, watching everyone with a somber look. It was the town priest, Father Dorian.

“Father Dorian, what are you doing here?” I asked as I approached the pale and scrawny man.
“I heard about your venture, and I figured it fitting to send you off with a prayer of the Lord,” he replied with a faint smile. “This is a selfless endeavor, and while I’d rather you all stay safe on the shore, I know I can’t talk Silas out of it.” It was then that I heard Silas yell to me from aboard the ship.

“Jack, get yer ass on deck and help out! We don’t want to miss our opening because you lagged behind!” He then glanced over at Father Dorian and gave a tip of his hat. “Mornin’ Father.” Father Dorian gave a small wave.

“Sounds like you should get going, Jack,” the Father said as he gently waved me away.

I climbed aboard and bumped into Caleb. The man had so many gadgets on him that he seemed ready for war. Caleb saw me staring.

“I invested in my own safety while the money was still coming in,” Caleb said, a smug superiority in his voice. He began pointing out various things proudly. “Long range satellite distress beacon, thermal wet suit with inflatable flotation device, and backpack with personal inflatable raft and emergency oxygen tank. If I’m going on a trip like this, I’m going prepared.” I had to admit I was starting to wish I had some of that gear myself. Before I could reply, I saw Caleb’s eyes shoot wide open. He ran over to the side of the boat and started yelling at Eel, who stood there with a hammer and horseshoe in hand, poised to nail it to the vessel.

“Elias, what the hell are you doing! Don’t you dare nail that thing to our ship!” Caleb shouted. Eel looked at Caleb in annoyance. 

“This be a good spot to nail, don’t you worry, boy. We be needing the extra luck.”

“No, I’ve made enough concessions to you already. I will not let you put a nail in this ship!” Caleb retaliated as he fumed. Eel stared at Caleb for a moment then spat on the ground.

Silas walked up to the two from behind, his heavy boots thumping the floor of the boat with each step.

“I’ll only say this once,” he said with a growl. “I won’t tolerate any fighting once we leave this port.” He was mostly looking at Caleb as he spoke. “Eel, you can nail it to my door. That should work just as well, right? I won’t turn down any of your luck.” Eel nodded in response and climbed aboard with his charm, side-eyeing Caleb as he passed. Caleb let out a frustrated sigh.

“Alright, Silas. I’ll avoid trouble.” He grumbled as he went back to work. I walked over to join Silas.
“Must feel like being a parent with those two.” I said, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“Aye, though mostly on account of Caleb. He’s a bright boy, but he don’t respect tradition. I don’t hold it against the lad—I know he be wantin’ out of this town. Hopefully this trip will give him his chance.” I nodded in agreement and then patted him on the back before returning to my duties.

Before long, everything was in order, and we were good to set sail as soon as Silas said so. Brine was eyeing the waters and keeping a look out for an “opening” as he put it. He claimed he could eyeball it just fine, though Caleb was keeping a close watch on the weather instruments just in case. I was standing by the starboard railing when Brine’s thundering voice finally shouted for our attention.

“The way is clear, anchor up and loose from the docks. Quickly now!” As I got to work, I saw Father Dorian had approached the boat and was calling out a prayer as we began to depart. I slowed my work for a moment, listening to his words.

“Then you will go on your way in safety, and your foot will not stumble. When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet. Have no fear of sudden disaster or of the ruin that overtakes the wicked, for the Lord will be at your side and will keep your foot from being snared.” 

I gave him a small wave as we drifted off. I was expecting a smile and wave in return, but was greeted by a grim look on his face that sent shivers up my spine. I caught him signing the cross as I returned to my duties. I tried to hold my nerves at bay as the docks slowly shrank into the distance.

I wish I had never gotten on that boat.

***

The storm raged far off in the distance ahead of us. The dark clouds hastened across the sky, pushed on by the heavy winds.The sky was dark, as if the light was slowly fading away the closer you got to the storm. We kept a safe distance as we got closer. This storm seemed to fiercely refuse to calm down, raging against the world that tried to make it disappear with bright flashes of light and booming cracks of thunder. We kept the engine running, not wanting to risk having to turn it on if the storm took a sudden detour our way. The puttering of the engine as we bobbed in the waves brought me back to before the storms. Years of work on these vessels made the sound familiar and comforting. I walked carefully to the bait prep room, keeping myself clipped to the jackline as I navigated the port side, unclipping only when I had reached the door. Eel stood inside, holding onto a handle as he finished the final load of bait. Several buckets filled with bloody fish viscera were firmly secured to a table, the results of his gruesome labor. I cleared my throat and announced my presence, grabbing onto a hand hold of my own. Eel glanced in my direction briefly as he grabbed a towel to wipe the gore from his hands.

“I don’ be needin’ help, Jacky boy. See if some other sap needs a spare hand.” He threw the towel into a bucket filled with other blood soaked rags.

“I know you’re a capable sailor, but make sure you don’t push yourself too hard on this trip.”

“Ye callin’ me old, Jacky?”

“I’m calling it as it is, Eel.” He sighed and turned to face me.

“I know there be a time ‘n place for pride. I also know this trip tisn’t one of them. Don’ worry, Jack. I’ll let ya know if I be needin’ any help.”

I nodded, content with his answer for the moment. Another boom ripped through the air as I steadied myself through the door and clipped myself to the port again. I could hear Eel singing an old sailor song from the room behind me. It reminded me of my youth when I would listen to stories of brave men fighting off both sea and monster as they sailed the ocean. I would dream of being one of those men and play pretend with the other kids. My younger self would be disappointed, as in that moment I hoped this would be just another boring trip. I stood a moment longer listening to Eel sing before making my way towards the bow. That last bout of thunder seemed to be the storm’s dying breath. The clouds had moved on and the winds were slowing. I called out to Pete and Reid, anticipating the call to set out any minute now. Sure enough, Silas called out from his station. “Alright boys, let’s go grab our bounty!”

After making sure the two deckhands knew their orders, I moved back towards the longline. We couldn’t bait it until we started releasing the line, but we had a small window, so it was important that we were ready to move fast. The boat swayed as it plowed ahead, bumping on waves as it went. I had to keep a careful footing as I walked, lest I find myself off balance on the side of the boat. A few faint creaks as the hull bounced on the water left me with a bit of anxiety, though I knew there was no concern. It served as a reminder to me how vulnerable we were in these waters. I approached the winch and saw Eel was already there with his buckets. They were sealed tight with lids and tied down to keep us from losing our precious bait.

The air was tense and everyone stayed silent, only speaking when necessary to give an order or confirm a task was completed. The anxiety that everyone felt was palpable. We were entering the heart of the storms that have claimed many vessels. The Violet Ghost was plentiful there, as if they knew that the area was dangerous for those who hunted them. I could imagine the damned fish mocking the crew of a doomed ship as each life was claimed by the sea. 

Silas yelled for the boat to slow and begin releasing the longline. Just like that, the silent spell was broken. Everyone began rushing to their stations, eager to get the job done before danger fell upon us. Eel and I activated the winch and shoved hooks and bait on the line as it slowly unwound with a mechanical groan into the dark ocean behind us like some macabre procession. The line sank below the surface as it unwound into the depths. Hundreds of hooks dragged behind us, preying on the greed of those that lived beneath the waves. Hooking and baiting the line was a long process, and I made sure to keep an eye on Eel in case he slowed or tired. My worries were not needed, however, as Eel’s fingers deftly worked the line as if they never aged since his retirement. 

Whenever I worked the line, I always kept a close eye on my tether. I’d heard horror stories of sailors getting it caught in the mechanism and dragged towards the powerful mechanical wheel. The amount of tension that the lines held required the winch to be very powerful and could easily crush bone. After about an hour of work, the line was finished deploying. We began coasting at a slow and steady speed. We had a good amount of time before the line would need to be recalled, which left some of us with little to do but watch the skies and pray that the clouds didn’t darken again before we left. I kept our deckhands occupied. Not all of the tasks were of great significance, but I knew the dangers of creeping dread when left with idle hands in waters like these. I stopped by the helm after giving Pete and Reid a few new tasks that would keep them busy for a bit. Silas and Brine stood side by side staring out the front window at the skies.

“There’s a storm brewin’,” Brine said suddenly. I trained my gaze on where he was looking. The clouds there did seem a bit darker than the rest, but it was hard to say. Silas turned his attention away from the clouds and towards Brine.

“You sure, lad? If we call it too early, we’ll be losing out on a lot.”

Brine kept his gaze on the horizon. “I’m no fool, Silas. We best prepare to leave in the next hour if we want to save our hides and our haul.” Brine’s voice was deep and void of doubt. Silas sighed and then turned around, catching me standing in the doorway.

“I’m assumin’ you heard that, Jack? We’ll wait another twenty then reel it in. Hopefully we can wait for another break in the storms and continue later today. Go on and get the crew ready.” I gave a quick salute and marched off to alert everyone. The moment I turned the corner, the impossible happened. Within a matter of seconds, a storm hit.

The sky darkened and the waves thrust upwards from the surface violently, smashing into our boat and causing a sudden tilt. The wind howled deafeningly as I desperately grabbed onto my tether. I tried shouting above the wind but it carried my voice far away from those who would hear it. I glanced to the side and saw Pete and Reid stumbling and falling towards the edge of the boat. Reid was secured to his tether which grew taught and stopped him from going overboard, but Pete seemed to have been in the middle of changing lines he was clipped to and found himself tumbling towards the edge with nothing to protect him. With a desperate grab, Pete managed to grab hold of the rail and cling onto the wet metal with furious desperation while Reid worked his way down to grab him. 

Seeing that Reid was working on Pete, I braced myself and stumbled towards the rear where I had last seen Eel. The boat rocked violently, throwing me against the rail and the wall as I dragged myself through the narrow walkway towards the stern. I managed to push myself the last foot or so and found Eel looking at the longline in terror. My blood turned cold when I saw the source of his fear. The longline was straining desperately against the winch, it’s tension threatening to break and send a whip of cable and fish hooks back towards us.

“We need to lose the line!” I yelled to Eel over the gale, reaching for my utility knife. The winch groaned under the force. It was built to handle the tension, but even it was struggling under these conditions. I knew, however, that the line would give first, and we could at least let it loose with some manner of control. I grabbed the emergency tracking buoy and clipped it onto the line in hopes we could recover it later and brought my knife down to the thick nylon and began sawing into it. Through the deafening wind, I could just make out a scream of horror. Pete was howling in pain as something pulled at the skin of his back, yanking it taught as it tented away from his body. I couldn’t make out what was doing this to him as the wind blew ocean spray through the air, pelting my face. I saw Pete give another howl as some of the skin of his back gave way, tearing free from his body. His grip faltered and before I could blink he rocketed towards the water, disappearing below the waves. I found myself staring in horror, distracted momentarily from the task at hand. I remembered the line and turned back to it, only to see the line go slack for a moment so fast that I could barely register it. I didn’t have time to realize the danger I was in before the line snapped back.  I saw hundreds of hooks flying towards me at an unimaginable speed. I closed my eyes and started to duck when the cable flew past me, striking the boat and tearing a horrid gash into its side as if the wall was made of paper. A few Violet Ghosts were stuck to the line and exploded in a mist as they smashed against the wall. I felt my knees tremble and fell to the deck. I was in shock. I waited for the adrenaline to leave me, imagining that when it did I’d find myself in searing pain, feeling for a body part that was no longer there. That moment never came. Through sheer luck, the line had missed me by inches. I felt Eel grab my shoulders and try to haul me to my feet.

“Jack, we’ve got to get inside! You’ll have time to faint later, move it!” I came back to my senses and nodded to Eel, his voice bringing me back to reality. Eel helped steady my shaking legs as we opened the rear door to the bait prep room and threw ourselves inside. I shielded my head with my arms as the violently rocking boat threw various items and furniture back and forth across the room. A cleaver sailed past me and sunk into a wooden table. The movement of the boat quickly changed in a way that felt wrong. It took a moment to realize that the boat had stopped rocking and was now spinning around in the water. I couldn’t even begin to fathom how that was possible, but now wasn’t the time to question things. I pushed a small table onto its side and held onto it desperately, hoping it would shield us from being pelted by anything dangerous as everything in the room was pulled in various directions from the momentum of our spin. I prayed that Pete and Reid had made it to safety, when suddenly the scene of Pete being pulled overboard came back to me. I had almost forgotten it in the shock of the moment. I shut my eyes and resisted the urge to throw up. After a few moments, the boat began to slowly lose its momentum. The spin slowed and the wind began to die. I sat in the quiet which now felt louder than the wind. I finally managed to pull myself to my feet, lending a hand to help Eel up as well. Everything hit me all at once as soon as I was on my feet. I broke down crying. My brush with death left me shaken, and the image of Pete being lost to the sea by some unknown force howled in my mind. Eel patted my shoulder and ran out to do the job I should have been doing. I must have looked so pathetic. I heard the others yelling Pete’s name, unaware of his fate as they called for him.

END OF PART 1

I have a story idea brimming in my mind as follows: Three girlfriends go on a hike in the Grand Canyon. One of them, the main character, turns back at the halfway point. The other two continue, and one of them disappears, declared missing for two weeks, until she is found disheveled, disoriented and traumatized, only she doesn't talk and there's a mystery as to what happened to her. The plot twist (or reveal) will be that she orchestrated her disappearance (i.e, hiking out and staying somewhere else and then coming back to look like she was "found") with the motive of being famous and not so ordinary, and she even tries to kill the main character. My questions are this: How realistic is this given that the Grand Canyon has a lot of tourist traffic and potential danger during the summer months? What would be a way to pull this off without the news, media and friends finding out too soon? Also, I'm not good at writing a plot twist like this, what are ways you, as writers have written a plot twist without giving it away so soon in a story?

Do you really think he can beat all of the fiction by pulling them into the dirt? Your favourite character? Smashed, Your overpowered characters? Slapped, your fan-made characters version? Dumped, let me hear about your comments!

Mine is...don't mess with my titles. They literally always serve to contribute to my central narrative. That's my principle. So when I send them to my mom so she can correct them (she's competent, she's a schoolteacher) it just sends me irate when she chooses to just change the title to something...literally correct, when I was going for metaphoric.
Example : A story about some alpinist trying to climb the K2 because of a dumb mistake, and being resurrected in a physically impossible sanctuary, at 7871 meters, by three beautiful and friendly girls who control the place. I titled it "The muses of the God of Death". After correction, it became "The K2 expedition"
Like what the heck, mom ? Yes, it is correct. Technically. But it's not the point of the story, Mom, read the atmosphere !
Sorry for the rant.

Just had a company called Brightword to call me. Wants to advertise my book on Times Square. Fee seems cheap. Said my book is one that was chosen my international scouts. Are they legit??

The clock on the wall rations the silence.
Tick. Tock.
Time is a loose concept. The rhythm, though—the rhythm is cold, mechanical, and honest.

I live in the basement shadows. I’ve made a home out of her floorboards since we ended. Above me, her footsteps map the ceiling: tick, tock. She is punctual. A creature of perfect, predictable gears. She rises, she walks, she pours her coffee, she sleeps.
Tick. Tock.
I know the exact weight of her step. I know her better than she knows herself. We exist in a flawless, quiet symbiosis—the host and the parasite, breathing the same air, separated only by joists and plaster. She has no idea I am here.

2:00 AM. Sleep is a luxury I don't own. I lie in the dark, remembering the taste of her, the way we used to be before the collapse. Now, we only have this.
Tick. Tock.

Then, the rhythm breaks. Her floorboards creak out of turn.
I hold my breath. The dust motes freeze in the dark. The clock seems to choke on its own gear.

CRACK.
The front door splinters.

A raw, territorial venom floods my throat. They have breached the sanctuary. These men—loud, clumsy, stupid—have stepped into a house that already belongs to me by silent right. They are trespassing on my obsession.

I freeze, paralyzed for a heartbeat. Then her scream cuts through the floorboards, only to be choked off mid-breath. Two male voices, coarse and jagged, tear through her quiet. I hear the violent, metallic rip of duct tape. I hear the wet, heavy crack of a palm hitting flesh. I hear her muffled, desperate whimpers.

My mind snaps clean off its hinges.

Suddenly, I am looking at myself from the ceiling. The world goes flat, virtualized, a cold 3D render. The noise of the assault drops into a deep, underwater hush. My body moves on autopilot. My hands find the metal box in the corner. The .22 pistol is light, freezing, and familiar. I glide up the wooden steps, weightless, a ghost reclaiming his haunt.

I reach the top of the stairs. What is happening in the bedroom is a stain on my sanity. She is bound, treated like a discarded doll, her eyes wide with a terror that screams through her gag.

I am entirely outside of myself now. A spectator. The small .22—quiet, surgical, merciless—fires. A dull pop into the first man's neck. He drops like wet clay.
The second one freezes, his hands slick with her sweat. He looks up, realizing too late that death didn't come through the broken front door. It crawled out of the floor. He opens his mouth to beg, staring at the shadow before him.

I press the muzzle against his forehead. The trigger gives. A dry snap silences the plea.

The silence that follows is deafening. The only sound is the wet, heavy rattle of their dying breaths on the hardwood. The barrel of the gun is hot. It tempts my temple. I want to pull the trigger again. I want to shoot myself. I want to shoot her, too, just to keep her safe from ever being touched again.

But I don't.

If I take one step into the bedroom, the yellow light will hit my face. She will see me. She will see the man she thinks is gone forever, standing over two corpses, drenched in their blood. The illusion would shatter. The symbiosis would die.

To keep her, I must remain a myth.

I step backward, letting the hallway darkness swallow me whole. I don't touch her. I walk to the kitchen, lift the receiver with the edge of my sleeve, and dial.

"Double homicide," I tell the dispatcher, my voice flat, dead, and steady. "Self-defense. There is a bound woman upstairs. Send help."

I hang up. Behind me, she is screaming through the tape, begging her savior to come back. But I am already gone, watching my own escape through a cold, distant lens. I take the keys. I drive into the black gut of the highway. I drift between cheap, neon-lit motels. I watch the news. I listen to the anchor talk about the "mysterious guardian angel," and I turn off the static.

The clock in her house stopped in the blood. But here, on the ceiling of this cheap room, the rhythm finds me again.
Tick. Tock.
It beats inside my skull. A reminder of a connection that is now permanent.

They never looked for me. They never blamed me. I committed atrocities that night, but it wasn't really me in that room.

Still... I would do it all over again.

Episode 1 : The Family Gathering

A hawk soaring in the open sky under the hot blazing sun the hawk swoops down which we see a massive island this island is home to the shield a family that protects the island and itself from the outside world. The hawk lands on a tree which we see a very polite looking cottage. This cottage is small and made of brick it’s charming and humble looking with a big large luxurious garden planted with beautiful flowers and trees. This cottage is built in the middle of this island.

This humble cottage lives the families grandad and Nan the founders of this island. Grandad is in the garden growing flowers. His power is growing plants and trees using his hands his hands point towards the soil and beautiful roses grow from in the ground in seconds.

“Lunch is ready” said Nan. Nan superpower is healing people with food mentally and physically. Her cooking is the best around and her sausage rolls are to die for. “ Thank you my love your sausage rolls healed my bad arm” grandad said with a big smile on his face dressed in his blue polo shirt and jeans and green wellie boots.”Right I’m just getting dinner sorted everyone is coming isn’t that right”. Nan said as she opens the oven to check on the roast potatoes. “That’s correct everyone coming Kieron bringing the boys Samuel is bringing Zara and Kian and Nicolas bringing her boys as well” he confirmed. Grandad goes back into the garden to grow Nan some carrots and parsnips for the roast that they’re having. Meanwhile theirs a knock on the front door of the polite and humble cottage grandad opens the front door.

“SURPRISE!!” Said Gary as he appeared with a massive grin on his face. “ Hi dad, hi mum” said Nicola reaching in for a cuddle. “Hi grandad hi nanny” said max and sam. Nicola is the only daughter of grandad and Nan her power is that she is indestructible meaning nothing can really hurt her she can get crushed by 3 boulders and be fine whereas Gary who married into this family has no powers one of the few normal people in the family. Max and Sam the kid of Nicola and Gary was however given powers max shapeshifts to a bean bag chair to a fire breathing dragon he can shapeshift into anything. Sam however can turn invisible and with a blink of an eye he’s gone vanished into thin air then “POP” he’s appeared again. “I heard from Samuel and Kieron they’re on their way now” Nicola says kindly.

“You alright Nic” called Nan as she was cutting up the chicken. “Yea Nan you need a hand” asked Nicola.
“No I’m quite alright thank you dear” said Nan as she carries on dishing up the dinner. Suddenly another knock on the door. “Grandad get the door”ordered Nan.It was Samuel with Haley Zara and Kian. “Hi dad you alright” said Samuel hugging grandad nearly crushing him in the process. Samuel’s power is his super strength and can lift up a whole mountain. However Haley Sam’s wife hasn’t got any powers as being married in the family but she is good with weapons such as the bow and the sword she is so skilled even she once was blind folded and shot an apple on Samuel’s head.Zara the eldest child on Samuel and Haley and the only grand daughter of grandad and Nan has the power of fire she can create flams out of her hands which is a big help on the BBQ however Kian’s power is super speed and can barely been seen zooming around the whole island running fast. “Who else is here” said Samuel eyeing down at the Delicous food man is preparing”. “Nic is here as well as Gary and the others still waiting on Kieron”. Said Nan as she was just boiling the cabbage.

Suddenly there was another knock on the door. “Grandad you don’t mind getting the door do you” called out Nan. “Yess!!, bloody hell seems like I’m the door man tonight”. Grandad said to his self laughing. “ hi dad you alright” said Kieron. Kieron’s super power
Is fixing anything that’s broken from a light to a iphone screen he can fix anything that’s broken. Jack and Ryan are the children of Kieron. He had a wife called Lorraine which they was separated a long time ago. Jack has the power to control and command animals any animal to do what he wants to do. They follow Jack not out of fear but out of trust and loyalty from the tiniest termite to the biggest elephant their no limitations to his power. Ryan however his power is that he can use technology as weapons using satellites or his phone to protect those that he loves. You can usually spot him sitting on his phone all day or checking his satellites. “We the last ones” asked Kieron.”Yes, now come on everyone’s outside” said grandad.

Everyone is chatting away as they wait for Nan to finish cooking the roast.They all love nans roast. They are all sat in the beautiful colourful garden. Nicola and Haley are chatting away while Samuel, Kieron and Gary are having a laugh. Zara and Jack are giggling and laughing as they drink their Malibu and Coke a favourite of theirs. Jack sat with and surrounded by his animals. Sam and max and Kian have a race round the garden together (Kian always wins).Ryan sat on his phone monitoring the satellites up above using them detecting danger from the outside world.
“This is nice everyone isn’t “ said grandad. “ yeap amazing” everyone says. “I’m quite bored if I’m honest” says Nicola looking over to the kids playing when she just has an idea. “I have the strongest power if you think about” kian says. “No i do” argued back Sam. “ no I do” said max. Samuel shouted” you’re all wrong I do”. That’s when Nicola got an idea. “You know what let’s have a friendly battle to see who is the strongest” said Nicola looking at everyone. They all agreed

“Guys me and Gary will sit this one out” said Haley as they are powerless. “Understood” said Nicola They all stood in the corner. “ Ready steady go!!!!” Shouted Nicola. Kian runs around all of them dodging everyone’s attacks while Zara uses her flame on Nicola as she was approaching but it doesn’t damage her and she walks out like nothing happened. Kieron tries using bits of old wood planks to build him a shield but Samuel lifts it up and picks up Kieron and gently throws him. “That’s you out” Samuel said. Jack sneaks up behind him his eyes burn a blue light as he locks his mind in a few hawk kinds as he commands them to attack Samuel. They start playfully peck him while Sam sneaks in using his invisibility to sneak up on Nicola he tries to then get her in a head lock but fails. Nicola moves him out the away as he was defeated. While max turns into some slippery ice to trip Samuel and Nicola up. They both full down. “You to are out” shouted max.Nicola looking on to impressed. Zara uses her fire to try and lightly burn Jack while he uses squirrels and hawks to chase her Kian runs circles round Zara, Jack, max and Ryan. Ryan uses the app on his phone to stun Kian he uses his beams to then move him away. The beams go away but he still moves around fast zooming the whole garden. The adults and the kids all looked at each other They all jump at each other ready to use their powers on each other. Suddenly they hear a familiar call.

Grandad and Nan walked out side grandad helping Nan carry the plates and the roast in. “Right everyone enough of that foolish games dinners ready” said Nan as she puts dinner on the table.They all sit down eating together whilst they still argue who is the most strongest and won the game.

(END EPISODE)