Gentle Slayer

The Brave Knight has been kidnapped against his will by the Beautiful Princess, now it’s up to the Scary Dragon to go rescue him.

Trial by Engine Failure

In the future, to pass college you no longer must pass written finals. Instead, you are simply dropped into a real life scenario related to your major, and left to fend for yourself with your new found knowledge.

A change of pace.

This isn’t a story.  I just want to let any regulars know that I’m changing up my schedule.

You may have noticed I didn’t post anything yesterday, and I won’t today, either.  I’ve caught up with my previous work on /r/WritingPrompts, and am going to go to a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule.  It’s been a story a day a while, but it’s been stretching my capacity to write and edit fast enough to keep up.  Rather than miss posts later, I’ve decided to throttle back now.  I’ll schedule ‘bonus’ stories if I begin backing up, though.

A further note – I’ll be on vacation from Tuesday the 15th to Tuesday the 22nd, so I may miss a post here and there.  I will have a laptop with me, but don’t expect to have a lot of time to use it.  I may be able to get enough stories written to keep releasing up to the 25th, but don’t count on it.

Healer’s Horror

Tell the story of a superhero whose powers sound harmless on paper but are terrifying when put into action.

Star Wars, by George R. R. Lucas

Write me the original Star Wars movie story, only you are George R.R. Martin.

Author’s note: I’m not very familiar with the expanded universe or with concepts like grey Jedi, so forgive me if I get some nuances wrong.

Star Wars

By George R. R. Lucas

“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”

My mind fogged over. It was hard to think. Only one set of words came easily, struggled to escape, a concept that wanted to take root and grow. “These aren’t the droids we’re looking for.”

And it was true. They couldn’t be. I knew something was wrong, but this one concept, this central idea took root in my understanding of the world, fit itself to the core of who I was like a puzzle piece. To remove it would be to leave a hole in my soul.

“He can go about his business.”

This pressure was tied to the first concept, already firmly rooted, and grew. I fought it, and I struggled. My blaster rose, slowly, sweat dripping into the inside of my helmet. The old man in front of me frowned, and intensified his gaze. I could feel my mind being crushed by the growing roots of his influence. “They can . . . go about their business.”

“Move along.”

“Move . . . move . . . ” As I struggled, the blaster fell out of my hand, and I bent to pick it up. For a moment, I held it in my hands. It wasn’t the grip by which you held a weapon, I was just retrieving it from the ground, but I was aware of the direction it was pointing.

He’d already won, of course. He had dismissed be from his attention. I didn’t have to break free, not really. Just pull the trigger. But the grip on my mind forbade it, forbade it so thoroughly that I forgot I even wanted to do it. I didn’t need to pull the trigger on a gun. It was just a lever. I needed to operate a lever, didn’t matter why, just operate the machinery.

The blaster fired, leaping out of my hands with the recoil. The pressure strangling my mind was gone. The old man lay dead in his seat, and I cried out for help. “Stop them! The old man was Jedi!” The speeder’s repulsors started up, and I adjusted my grip on my blaster, firing through a repulsor on the side. They all shut down immediately to keep the vehicle from flipping over.  The boy tried to make a run for it, and I shouldered my rifle, shooting him through the calf.  He bled and cried, until a trooper knocked him out.

We searched them, of course, and found no weapons. So the official report said. At home that night, I turned the light saber around in my hand, listening to the blade hum. I wasn’t proud of what I did; I had killed a Jedi and his protege. He had probably wanted the same thing I did. But I had known going in that serving light would require an occasional foray into darkness. It was just a part of what it meant to be gray.

I clicked the light saber off and watched the blade collapse. At least the death had served a purpose. I was getting a promotion, a transfer. I would be that much closer to Vader and the Emperor. And now, when I made my move to kill them, I would have a proper weapon for a wielder of the Force.

Serial Saviour

Sixteen years ago you caused an accident that left 12 people dead. At first you weren’t able to live with what you had done but now you’re glad it happened, it helped you find your calling. You have become the most notorious serial killer of all time. 

Mid-Blade Crisis

For a thousand years you’ve been trapped inside of a magical sword. Warriors from every century have wielded you in glory. Now you only grace the battlefields of public parks and camping grounds as a novelty sword some L.A.R.P. enthusiast bought on craigslist.