toadsinatrenchcoat

[toadsinatrenchcoat]

A Day in the Life of a Serial Arsonist

This comedic retelling of the famed story of Prometheus is written by our own Cecilia Toad, who has quite the fascination for Greek Mythology, and a witty sense of humour!

It is a lovely day in ancient Greece, and he is a terrible titan. Prometheus the fire-bringer who stole from the gods to give fire to the mortals... or did he?

Prometheus has always been drawn to the allure of fire, but whenever he wished to touch it his hand was slapped away like that of an unruly child. "But Zeuuussss" could be heard ringing throughout the halls of Olympus for days on end. Though he liked to portray himself as such, Prometheus was not the most mature out of all the titans, though ancient as he was.

But one day, when left to his own devices, foolishly unattended, Prometheus saw his chance. Being the immortal that he was, grasping the flames did not cause him damage as it would a mortal. It would, however, add a certain burnt quality to the Olympian palace that was less than desirable. Nevertheless, despite being warned of the outcomes of his actions, Prometheus proceeded to spread his flames across any flammable surface he could get his hands on.

And what a sight that was. The marble of Olympus encasing a raging inferno. Quite proud of himself but not yet sated, Prometheus turned his eyes upon the land of the mortals and gasped. Not a single flame lit the tiny mud huts of the people, nor did bonfires mark the encampments of the nomads. Well, that certainly would not do.

And so, skipping merrily along the grassy planes, Prometheus lit fires wherever his heart desired. A boring empty meadow? Fire! An abandoned hut? Fire! An unattended small child? No, no, that's not right. But giving a torch to an unattended small child, now that is something Prometheus could do. And he did, at any opportunity he could find. With great satisfaction, Prometheus discovered that the human children shared his great love of the flames, and were soon starting their own fires and sharing their newfound talent with their companions.

Quite satisfied with the gift he had brought to the mortals, Prometheus returned to Olympus with his head held high as a triumphant king returning from battle, expected to be greeted as such with open arms.

He was thoroughly disappointed with the welcome he did receive, however. The appreciation he expected was notably not present in the tone of the gods when they sent Prometheus up Caucasus Mountain to endure his punishment.

Despite what Prometheus may say, the tale of his liver being pecked out each and every day by Zeus's own famed eagles was merely a dramatization of a child-like mind to compensate for the stifling he felt he received. A mere fifteen minute time-out and permanent supervision around flames by said eagles was all the punishment Prometheus received. But that shouldn't stop him from telling people otherwise, should it?

Disclaimer: We reserve the rights to any and all stories written here and do not permit the republishing of the works created without permission in any forum.

[toadsinatrenchcoat]

Short Story- Normal

This story is different from what we usually write, but it's good to expand genres. This was written by Joanna.

Disclaimer: This may not be suitable for all audiences, and may include some frightening elements.

Over-wide smiles, unblinking eyes that focus too clearly, blinding teeth that flash sharply in the sun. Glinting nails, bones jutting out where none should be, rasping breaths and stuttering gaits.

Monsters.

Things that aren't quite right, things that used to be, things that never were. Creatures and shadows, bumps in the night. Eyes that follow with a presence new and unsettling, everywhere but nowhere, around the corners and across the street. Fog that rolls in with a mind of its own.

Distractions.

They say true fear lies in the unknown, the vague sense of unease when lying alone, vanishing when the lights are turned on and the covers drawn up. Passed off as shadows and paranoia. Unfinished, wrapped in mystery, and then gone, forgotten.

Lies.

Dread begins this way, terror begins when the thing does not leave. The concoction you convince yourself is behind the curtain stares you down when you pull back the drape. Unmoving, but undeniably real. "But it's not real" you fool yourself. A trick of the light, nothing more. You close the curtains and walk back to the warmth of your bed, but it has gone cold. A chill running up your spine, dancing on your fingertips.

Overactive imaginations, ridiculous fantasies. Everything is normal, safe, normal, fine. Repetition will help. Safety in numbers, so the next night is not spent alone. The house is filled, the neighbourhood loud. Safe, normal, fine. "It's too hot, let's open a window", but you know you can't because It will still be there. The window is opened. And It is there.

No one acknowledges It. It is normal. The lights are dim, so you turn more on, "I can't see my drink" you laugh in explanation. No one is listening. It is so cold, but everyone is sweating. The air does not flow, though the window is wide. You try to forget It, never in the corner of your eye, always in full view. It will not be ignored.

"Let's go outside," your voice feels thready. People move anyway. There is a fire, its light expanding far into the forest beyond, lighting the trees. It shouldn't go that far. There are no shadows, and nothing to hide what lurks in amongst the trees. The fire is cold. "It's so windy tonight, the trees are whistling." A voice intones. It is not windy. The voices are many, but the quiet pushes against your ears. The drinks are tasteless, you didn't serve any drinks.

The sun comes up, but no one leaves. The forest things are still watching, and they have come closer. No one says anything. This is normal. You have to go to the bathroom. The house is full, you can barely move past the crowds of people. Where did they all come from anyway. It seems like the they have always been there. You find the bathroom eventually, it keeps moving. Inside is crowded too. And It is inside. You ignore it. When you leave you are outside again. You can't see the other houses, though the sun shines bright. You're not sure if they were ever there. This is normal.

It is night again, and the fire glows more brightly than before. The forest things are closer, they have made a circle around the group. Someone walks past them and disappears into the shadows beyond the trees. There are no shadows. Everything is bright, your eyes hurt.

It is morning again, the sun moves too fast. You go to bed, it is safe there. It is crowded there too, though the bed is empty, already made without a wrinkle to mar the perfect sheets. The covers are too hot, but you don't take them off. The thing at the foot of the bed can't reach you then. It would be better if there were shadows, something to mask the eyes. There are never shadows.

The window is gone, but the sun is blinding even still. Your friends are still in the room with you. You don't know these people. This is fine, normal, safe. Everything is normal, the voice in your head reassures. Everything is safe. That voice in your head isn't yours.

This is normal

Disclaimer: We reserve the rights to any and all stories written here and do not permit the republishing of the works created without permission or credit in any forum.

[toadsinatrenchcoat]

Short Story- The girl who loved

To start the morning off with a smile!

In a certain time, in a certain place, there lived a girl who loved. She loved her family, her home, everything from the smallest bug to the tallest tree. And most importantly, she loved herself. "Was she young and beautiful, smile as dazzling as a diamond in the sun?" you may wonder. No, she was not young, in fact she was quite old; her hands shook and her legs couldn't quite find the strength to bring her many places any more. Her teeth were crooked and spots marred her skin. But she was beautiful. Wearing her smile lines like badges of honour, her eyes may fade in colour, but the light behind them never fades.

She always said that insults should be like crashing waves against an unyielding cliff face; never allowed to break the rocks. And when the winds off the raging coast howl, bellow to them your unabashed love for the world. Wielding compliments like like an expert swordsman would a blade, she would never surrender to the voices saying to just give in.

She did not come by this easily though, for kindness is always a hard-fought battle. To be defiant against the coldness enough to bring warmth is not a guarantee, but a choice. And this girl, she chooses love everyday. She does not make this choice to spite the world, but rather to love it. But loving oneself is another matter entirely, and one she mastered nonetheless. Though many years passed before this came to be, she never surrendered, even when she had to scrape the pieces of herself off the floor and begin anew. For she knew that a journey is never over when better is still out there.

She was asked once, why she does not feel the hatred that seems only natural to come by. Why would she choose to love, after all, when anger is so much easier? "Because," she said, "anything that is effortless is not a thing to be admired. Love is a gift, but we are the ones who have to choose to open it."

Perhaps her tale, short as it is, holds some wisdom to be held on to. Why should we choose love over everything else? Because we can.

Disclaimer: We reserve the rights to any and all stories written here and do not permit the republishing of the works created without permission in any forum.

[toadsinatrenchcoat]

Short Story- The valley of ruin

Our first post! We're very excited to share our first story! Written by our own Janice- the tale of a valley with a mind and heart of its own:

Once upon a wintered June, blew a cold wind across the sunny plains. Shivering hills crumbled under the pressure of the icy touch of an unending winter. For years the valley begged the winds for respite, to no avail. Though the sun blazed above, no light would grace the lonesome valley. And all for the sake of a better existence.

The scarred mountains and dried springs make desolate seem a pleasant place, but the most cutting was the knowledge that all this was wanted. The life they live chosen by the valley itself, knowing it will be better this way. To expel the waters and the old growth, the only way to rid this place of former beauty of the rot seeping through.

Though the barren fruit trees wept at the lightness of their branches, the hills whispered of clearer skies to come, of a bountiful future. "The worst is behind us" they preached, trying so desperately to believe even themselves. Uncertainty painted the visions of all the valley's living things, doubt of the brightness ahead they were promised.

Silence in the valley through the days and the nights, with only ice to blanket pale grass. Years since the mouths of the deer who razed through the plentiful grass were removed. And with the deer left the wolves, with nothing to fill even their ravaging maws. The birds in the sky left soon too, when the worms in the dirt no longer poked their heads up when the rain vanished and the grass turned ashen. Even the heartiest creatures abandoned the valley when no fresh streams were there to fill their empty bellies. Only the ground and the mountains themselves were left in the end, and even they began to crumble.

Hopelessness seemed the only certainty of the future beyond, but still they persevered. And from all the heartache and pain sprung life; the first cooing of the doves sounded to break the eternal hush, and with that sound came the first rains. Beginning with a trickle, slowly, so tentatively, it became a shower. And the worms showed their heads to the drizzle, and the birds darkened the sky with their light, and the creatures returned once more. Not the ones who hurt the valley, but a new breed, sprung from the hope that flourished within the life of this new beginning.

And so the hills wept once more, but this time of joy, for peace is once more, and spring has returned to the valley of ruin.

Disclaimer: We reserve the rights to any and all stories written here and do not permit the republishing of the works created without permission in any forum.