lil challenge thread

[shade.]

aye so this is a W. I. P. in content and in coding
but I'll be joining a bunch of challenges now that school is about out
I won't get much up for like four days though
Yup

write short stories according to
these 20 random themes:

-inspired by a favorite song x
-a fan fiction of a book you like x
-a fantasy x
-a realistic fiction x
-as if it was a journal entry x
-an action story x
-a drama x
-a mystery x
-a horror x
-a crime x
-a romance x
-something suspenseful x
-best friends x
-historical x
-adventure x
-best friends x
-enemies x
-awkward situation x
-sad x
-happy x

(write a short story based on
these songs submitted by others)

// more will be added when
I finish these first 10

Any Other Way by We the Kings | x
I Lived by OneRepublic
Seeing Stars by BØRNS
It Will Come Back by Hozier
Show You by Shawn Mendes
Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon
Alibis by Marianas Trench
Crazy by Hunter Hayes
Unkiss Me by Maroon 5
Helpless When She Smiles by Backstreet Boys

The short story challenge
to challenge you with prompts

person switch
no dialogue
just dialogue
one character

emotion
love
anger
happiness
humor
sadness
fear

senses
color
smell
weather
sound
touch

alternate universe
alternate ending
interaction
illness
personality break
parents

[shade.]

`
shade. song challenge

'Cause I will never go down
any other way

"No!" she screamed, her nails digging into my skin like claws. Her breath beat down on my neck, and I knew tears poured down her cheeks, falling to the floor by my feet. All the same, I flung her off, my arm jerking hard enough to send her crashing to the floor. There was a thump, and a viscous sob racked my sense of hearing.

I neared the door and opened it slowly, staring out at the helicopters and mobs of people that lined the city streets. There were thousands upon thousands, their guns and lasers all pointed at me. For a split second, I hesitated, my breath catching in my throat at the sight of that much military power. It was striking, that much firepower, all looking at me. Yet something in me said that I could take it. I had been preparing for this for a long time now and even if I couldn't take it, that's how I preferred to die. Fighting.. this. Not hiding in my bed, waiting for the world to magically become better. Then, in one final word to my wife and children, I murmured "I wouldn't do it any other way."

And those were the last words I ever spoke to them.

Sam Barchel was a man in his late twenties. He would appear as normal as anyone else from a distance, but everyone in town knew that he was not that in the least. At the age of two he was different. Different from anyone and anything they had ever seen or imagined. And for this, he was hated.

People do not like what they cannot control. Or, most of them don't anyway. For many eons, the government was in favor of his differences, calling upon him to do the jobs they couldn't do alone. He had been a major asset to winning wars, to fixing things, and part of the community that could not be lost. Sam lived for generations upon generations, loyal to only his country and family. Yet Sam lived for the rage and adrenaline of battle. And the people knew this weakness of his. He had been honest enough to flaunt it.

But over time, when Sam could do more and more and better and better people began to become scared of him. Scared of the monster that lived within him. And perhaps rightfully so. They all remembered the day that he defeated a good half of the German army, and even when the battle was over, continued in a rage that matched no other. Two million soldiers. Dead. And yet the creature didn't stop. No, he attacked everything and anything. Eventually, American soldiers.

It took two thousand deaths before he was stopped. His best friend had to stand in his wrath and cox him back to sanity as if he were an animal. And it was all caught on tape.

After that moment, Sam was no longer human. Sam was the spells that he put upon himself, at least to the public, and to the media, he never recovered. His two children were taken from him, and his wife was often encouraged to get a divorce. It was a terrible time for him and anyone who truly knew him. A terrible time that lasted for two years.

Even though America was now involved in what was considered World War 3, and being taking in onslaughts of terrorism, Sam was ignored. Disdained. Hated. And this eventually went a little too far.

When presidents were to be picked, Sam was in fact the main discussion topic of the candidates. A small trifle in everything they were dealing with, it seemed, but all the same the people were more scared of Sam than they were of groups like Al Queda. They figured, that if he were to turn against them- or if he already had, they would be dead within a matter of seconds. Some even thought he could destroy the whole U. S. in a matter of days. He didn't understand why they thought he was truly this powerful, and why they had any notion of his disloyalty, for he had explained both on numerous occasions, but yet they did.

And he was hated.

The president picked was a man named Nick R. Tromane. He was dedicated to in fact destroying, or containing Sam. Within weeks of his presidency, he affirmed that either Sam would surrender himself to jail in a highly guarded underground metal unit with restrictions on his ability to speak, or he would be considered disloyal and be killed. Or, as he stated it, executed for his crimes.

Sam was then faced with a terrible decision. But Sam would never go down, just like that, and surrender to injustice. No, he would help tell the world who he was. He would fight the flame. He would make them realize the evil in this man. The evil he had seen.

A soft nock came on my door, and I immediately jumped to high guard. Carla and I shared a worried glance and she backed up to pull our spare gun into her palm. She then walked stiffly over to one of our armchairs, sat down and placed the gun comfortably between her legs, in easy access if she were to need it.. not that I couldn't defeat anything, if I tried. If I tried. I pulled myself to my full height and proceeded to the door. Each of my steps echoed through the hallway like the sound of a bullet. With a swift motion, I twisted the nob, and was greeted by the face of the president.

I recoiled, taking in the armed guard around him and his narrowed eyes. He seemed to almost be looking to see if I was the monster everyone made me out to be. With a cold gesture, he brushed past me and filed all of his seven personal guards behind him and into my living room. As their backs were to me I mouthed to Clara, stand down, through anything. She nodded slightly. She understood.

I put my hands in the front of my sweat jacket, taking on a submissive pose. My hair was relatively short clipped and a dirty blonde. I was well muscled, but quite skinny. My skin tone was light tan. I hoped that placing myself in this image would make me look non-threatening, and that's why I did what I did with myself. The gray fabric under my hands was soft and empty, but I could see the distrust the government would have in it. All the same, they knew my power came from my mouth, not my pockets.

I walked over to them, surveying the fact they had taken all of the seats and were standing along the edges as well. I bit my lip softly, twitching uncomfortably. After the silence drew on for almost two minutes, all the bad things I had ever done were flashing in my head and I had the uncontrollable feeling they weren't here for something I had done, but instead to hurt me or change me. It was a nerve racking feeling, honestly, and all I really wanted to do was run. Fly forever and as far away as I could. But I stayed, stock still, waiting for them to speak. Or else it could be used against me.

Eventually, Nick spoke, "Sam, I do fear you. Obviously, I have gone against you. Still, if you were willing you do me a favor... I may be able to cut you some slack. Otherwise... well you can imagine otherwise. Wars are easy to start and hard to win. As you know."

I froze. The threat of that, of turning the world against me... he was making a threat to turn the whole world against me. My breathing rose faster and faster, and I tried to keep myself from sweating or making myself obviously scared. I couldn't win a war only against me. Especially when I wouldn't kill those soldiers. I simply would not kill them. And I would die. I would die standing tall, but I would die. I didn't want to die.

"What would you want me to do?" I said stiffly, my voice laced with tension and warning.

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head softly. "Sam, sam. Do you really think that you can threaten me?" he paused, seeming to decide that he might as well continue, "I would like you to destroy the town of Yetrunga. They are getting on my nerves, frankly, and if you would play the bad guy, I'd protect you and we both would get what we wanted."

I balled my hands into fists, clenching them until I could feel myself breaking my skin with my nails. I clenched my eyes together tightly and drew in a deep, shuttering breath. I was holding back a stream of spells. Fighting them, nonstop. The idea that he thought I could destroy a town- and for his personal liking- angered me out of my mind. You might as well make him dictator at that point! I wasn't some machine. I simply was a person who knew a skill set, however that skill may be rare, powerful, and dangerous.

"No. No now and no forever." I opened my eyes, my pupils dilating into a stare that would intimidate most people out of their minds.

"Very well then," he paused, and then laughed softly. "Sam, Sam, don't give me that look. You wouldn't kill me, and I know it." He rose from his chair, pushing himself off with his right arm and swinging into the hallway to my door.

"Thank you for your time," the man said, his voice laced with sarcasm, as he and his men all walked out the door.

Sam paced up and down the room, over and over again, his breaths coming in and out swiftly. He knew this was going all wrong. he knew that he couldn't kill the men outside his door. He knew that they hated him, and he didn't hate them. He knew they would fight to his death. Or to their death. But he told himself that there would be very little deaths.

With a scream he kinetically picked up the armchair in his living room and slammed it furiously against his floor. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be trapped like this, between a wall of justice and the world. They wanted him to fall. They wanted their hero to fall. And he would. He wouldn't give into the demons that pushed him to killing. Killing in a rage that would match no other. A rage that would destroy the U. S. in a matter of minutes. His blood was gasoline. It pushed him forward. He wanted revenge. On everyone. But he refused. He refused to go down and surrender to the dark side of himself.

Clara slowly came around the door frame of their bedroom. She whispered softly, "Sam.. Sam it's okay. We can get through this. Just stay with me, stay with me. Die someday far from now, not today." she walked slowly, carefully toward the rage in front of her. Slowly, she placed a hand on his shoulder. Please don't die. Please don't die on me. I love you... her mind whispered and screamed this over and over, but she knew as well as he did he would go out there and die a strong death.

She knew as well as he did he wouldn't go any other way.

But she still pleaded. And pleaded. And pleaded.

He shook his head, and within a matter of seconds, he was gone. Out the door. Into the hell outside. Into the death outside. Clara didn't know what would happen to her after today, but she didn't care. She collapsed to the floor, her nails throbbing from digging into his skin and tears escaping from her cheeks more than anyone had ever cried before. This wasn't right. This wasn't supposed to happen.

I walked out of the house, facing the millions of military machines the U. S. had pulled in. The machines they had pulled out of World War 3 to destroy me. I heard, in the distance of my pumping blood a machine announce that I could still surrender. I just laughed softly, sadly, and shook my head at their ignorance. Didn't they see? No one could surrender now. I wanted too, but no one could surrender now.

"Icryla. Winryn. Atronima." Quickly, angelic wings grew from my back and my hands crackled with electricity. A thick force field expanded around me, continuing to get stronger and stronger with every layer I built. "Icryla. Icryla. Icryla. Come on, strengthen more! I need to be able to take all of their bullets. Each and every one."

Before I could finish chanting, a wave of weapons came upon me. They had evacuated the state- they didn't care. I knew they'd set a nuclear weapon on me if it came to it.

My body was jerked back and forth, back and forth. I kept murmuring spells, adding to my protection again and again. I slowly, painfully ripped my wings up and down to rise myself into the air. It was painful, it was difficult, and I kept my eyes shut, not looking at the mess of colors in front of me. As my wings started to fail, I again murmured, "Winryn." After a moments hesitation, I murmured "Gieblia Winryn" and I slowly started to glow, like many would imagine an angel. I just wanted this to be caught on tape. I wanted people to realize the mistake they made, later.

I had to push down the anger in me, push down the evil power I felt deeply rooted within myself. It kept bubbling up, and I felt myself spending more time on that than protecting myself. It kept bubbling over, making me nauseous beyond belief. It made me want to kill.

"Eiulab Atronima!" I screamed as I lost control of myself. My body erupted in a electrically charged flame, burning with a passion to destroy everyone around me.

"No! No! Icryla!" moments of this battle within myself turned into hours. Hours of fighting myself and the enemy trying to destroy me. My defenses were wearing thin, and in all honesty, America was running out of weapons. I was so caught up in this battle against darkness, the battle I had lost when fighting the Germans those many years ago, that I didn't even notice that most all the planes and soldiers around me had left. I didn't notice anything, until suddenly there was an impact on my body larger than anything I had ever felt before.

Everything stopped inside me. I opened my eyes and watched the crystals of my shielding fall away. I watched the massive fire engulf me. No, I thought frantically, screaming at the Americans for what they did. They were destroying themselves. I didn't want them destroyed.

"Tiyrela!! Protect them!" I screamed, louder than I had ever screamed before. And everything went dark.

Clara watched her husband, tears blurring the scene in front of her. She watched as he battled everything, but she could also see him battling himself. She could see his shielding, going away after time, and she watched carefully as they placed the nuclear bomb below him. There was nothing to be done now.

Even she did not realize that he was fire, fire and electricity. She did not realize that this would likely wipe out the world. She only realized he was gone. Gone, looking like an angel.

***

No one knew, until months later. Months later they managed to rush planes from the small parts of the U. S. unaffected by the bomb as large as anyone had ever understood. A bomb that likely was seen from space. They then looked and saw, and realized, that he had killed everyone.

Nothing was harmed that was important to him. Nothing was harmed that had done nothing against him. Nothing was harmed that he, it, wasn't angry at. And the people were confused, sad, and happy. Some were unhappy with this scenario, some were not.

The only truth was that most of them were gone. Millions, dead. Sam was gone, their military was gone, and America was very vulnerable. Things would turn out one way or another, but people learned a lot about Sam that day. And it would never be forgotten.