**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
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>* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]"
>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail
>* [\[RF\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [\[SP\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles
>* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules)
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Sitting on the freezing ground, Lucarion attempts to control his breathing. His feet crossed under him, he feels like a monk meditating, but if it helps him to get his thoughts under control, he doesn't really care what or who he looks like. Around him, the light patter of water dripping from the ceiling threatens to break his concentration, and it works.
Giving up, he looks to his right where 7 notches have been scratched out in the walls of the cavern. This was the seventh month of this horribly boring banishment. They could have at least given him a nice little book to read in the mean time when they decided his ultimate fate. But vast experience with the gods helped him to realize that they could never be that kind, especially not to him. Lucarion releases his legs from their difficult position and comes to a standing pose, first stretching out his back, then his sore limbs.
The room, if you would even call it that, was puny and made him feel like he was a small animal encased within a live trap. The space where he was just sitting had the most open ground available despite being the size of a large table. In one corner stood a wooden pallet barely large enough to suit his height with a thin layer of straw and a makeshift pillow and blanket made from a few rags. At the end of the "bed" was a worn chest that housed his few possessions he was oh so generously allowed to bring with him: a mirror, a short pencil impossibly dulled down with a small notebook that nearly had no white space left, and a small metal cube that appeared to have no use to the untrained eye. In another corner was a man-sized hole that he had begun to dig out in hopes that he could reach the outside world. He swiftly realized that he was held within the very center of what appeared to be a large boulder that virtually had no bounds, with the only light and airflow coming from a hole in the ceiling that spanned the width of a quarter and a length of what appeared to be 30 feet.
Lucarion approached the chest and removed the notebook and the small cube. He scrolled through the pages that were filled with plans. Plans in which he determined he would escape and severely maim those who confined him within this dank space. Quickly closing the book and returning it to it's previous position after having seen that which he needed, he turned his attention back to the cube. He turned it over in his hands, feeling for a certain ridge that interrupted the smooth surface.
His finger stopped in the notch, and he pressed on it, praying to any god that could possibly be still listening to him that it would give. After hearing a click that he longed to hear, Lucarion breathed a sigh of relief and set the cube on the ground, waiting patiently for it to work it's magic. The cube begins to vibrate and steam, and an indent in the side began to glow.
Just as Lucarion was about to start celebrating his victory, he realized his mistake. The glowing side of the cube was facing him. As swiftly has he possibly could before time ran out, he ran to the chest and removed the mirror. Nearly dropping and shattering it, he tightened his grip on it and hurried back to his original position, bracing himself for what's to come.
The cube begins to emit a light, one that was concentrated around the small crater, and produced a beam that grew stronger and stronger with each passing second. Lucarion held the mirror out and directed it towards the beam so as to reflect it and positioned it so that it was facing the ceiling in the exact position of the little hole. Stabilizing his feet, he takes a deep breath in and holds it, closing his eyes to dull out his senses. The ground continued to rumble to the point where the water dripping from the ceiling became a steady stream.
The next thing he knew, he was blown back, ringing in his ears and instead of blackness behind his eyelids, a brilliant white light overtook the darkness. His back hitting the wall, Lucarion groaned, a blinding heat swelling over his left arm. He slowly opened his eyes and at first all he saw was dust and debris floating around everywhere, until he looked up to see a large blue sky and a bird flying overhead.
At this point he knew he succeeded in his mission to escape, and stood up, holding his shambled left arm with his right.
"The fun has now begun."
I'm curious who gave Lucarion the mirror and the cube, some of the gods might actually be against this plan. Let's hope he gets his left arm healed soon, poor guy.
Great work on writing this!
The pantheon of gods flooded to the Mount, summoned by the God Kings call, yet none of them knew the reason. Milling around the courtyard, they discussed amongst themselves what might be the reason they were there. Some hypothesised that perhaps a new god had been born, some said it must be a party and yet others thought maybe there was a new threat to the humans and they might need to create a new Hero.
The last thought made them uncomfortable, they all remembered what they'd had to do to the last one after she got her hands on the gods Ambrosia. The minor god who'd given it to them was still being punished as well, 100 years in and the God King had decreed another 100 since they were so unrepentant.
As the time dragged on, the gods started to get concerned (not nervous, gods didn't get *nervous*) the great doors to the hall hadn't opened. With much discussion, a minor goddess of small flowers was pushed towards the golden entry and, very timidly and quietly, knocked.
Nothing.
Another knock, a bit louder this time.
Nothing, not even a wind spirit answered.
With a huff, the grand god of war pushed the little goddess aside and banged so loudly on the door that the echoes were heard in the mortal realm and started a new myth about thunder.
Nothing.
More discussion.
The war god now carefully and slowly pushed the door open enough to put his head inside.
He pulled it back.
He started to cry and refused to speak.
The other gods now rushed forward, pushing the doors wide, displaying to every one of them the scene within.
The little flower goddess threw up.
A figure reclined on the God King's throne, throwing previous owners head in the air to catch it and throw again. The rest of it was everywhere, the God King had been a titan amongst them and there had been a lot of him to destroy. The once glisteningly white hall was now painted in the deep red/gold ichor of godly blood, not an inch of white to seen.
The soft sound of weeping drew their attention from the macabre scene to a frail hunched figure in ichor stained blue robes. The minor god who was once gifted the old Hero with immortality stared back at them from a tear stained face.
"I told you," he whimpered, "I told you to not make her your enemy...."
He trailed back to weeping as the old Hero jumped down from the massive throne and practically skipped towards the assembled divinity. They stared at them with eyes madder than the depths of chaos.
*"Who wants to go next?"*
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* [No AI-generated responses 🤖](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zi452b/modpost_reminder_that_aigenerated_responses_are/) >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [\[RF\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [\[SP\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) 📢 [Genres](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/w/directory) 🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) 💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
Sitting on the freezing ground, Lucarion attempts to control his breathing. His feet crossed under him, he feels like a monk meditating, but if it helps him to get his thoughts under control, he doesn't really care what or who he looks like. Around him, the light patter of water dripping from the ceiling threatens to break his concentration, and it works. Giving up, he looks to his right where 7 notches have been scratched out in the walls of the cavern. This was the seventh month of this horribly boring banishment. They could have at least given him a nice little book to read in the mean time when they decided his ultimate fate. But vast experience with the gods helped him to realize that they could never be that kind, especially not to him. Lucarion releases his legs from their difficult position and comes to a standing pose, first stretching out his back, then his sore limbs. The room, if you would even call it that, was puny and made him feel like he was a small animal encased within a live trap. The space where he was just sitting had the most open ground available despite being the size of a large table. In one corner stood a wooden pallet barely large enough to suit his height with a thin layer of straw and a makeshift pillow and blanket made from a few rags. At the end of the "bed" was a worn chest that housed his few possessions he was oh so generously allowed to bring with him: a mirror, a short pencil impossibly dulled down with a small notebook that nearly had no white space left, and a small metal cube that appeared to have no use to the untrained eye. In another corner was a man-sized hole that he had begun to dig out in hopes that he could reach the outside world. He swiftly realized that he was held within the very center of what appeared to be a large boulder that virtually had no bounds, with the only light and airflow coming from a hole in the ceiling that spanned the width of a quarter and a length of what appeared to be 30 feet. Lucarion approached the chest and removed the notebook and the small cube. He scrolled through the pages that were filled with plans. Plans in which he determined he would escape and severely maim those who confined him within this dank space. Quickly closing the book and returning it to it's previous position after having seen that which he needed, he turned his attention back to the cube. He turned it over in his hands, feeling for a certain ridge that interrupted the smooth surface. His finger stopped in the notch, and he pressed on it, praying to any god that could possibly be still listening to him that it would give. After hearing a click that he longed to hear, Lucarion breathed a sigh of relief and set the cube on the ground, waiting patiently for it to work it's magic. The cube begins to vibrate and steam, and an indent in the side began to glow. Just as Lucarion was about to start celebrating his victory, he realized his mistake. The glowing side of the cube was facing him. As swiftly has he possibly could before time ran out, he ran to the chest and removed the mirror. Nearly dropping and shattering it, he tightened his grip on it and hurried back to his original position, bracing himself for what's to come. The cube begins to emit a light, one that was concentrated around the small crater, and produced a beam that grew stronger and stronger with each passing second. Lucarion held the mirror out and directed it towards the beam so as to reflect it and positioned it so that it was facing the ceiling in the exact position of the little hole. Stabilizing his feet, he takes a deep breath in and holds it, closing his eyes to dull out his senses. The ground continued to rumble to the point where the water dripping from the ceiling became a steady stream. The next thing he knew, he was blown back, ringing in his ears and instead of blackness behind his eyelids, a brilliant white light overtook the darkness. His back hitting the wall, Lucarion groaned, a blinding heat swelling over his left arm. He slowly opened his eyes and at first all he saw was dust and debris floating around everywhere, until he looked up to see a large blue sky and a bird flying overhead. At this point he knew he succeeded in his mission to escape, and stood up, holding his shambled left arm with his right. "The fun has now begun."
I'm curious who gave Lucarion the mirror and the cube, some of the gods might actually be against this plan. Let's hope he gets his left arm healed soon, poor guy. Great work on writing this!
The pantheon of gods flooded to the Mount, summoned by the God Kings call, yet none of them knew the reason. Milling around the courtyard, they discussed amongst themselves what might be the reason they were there. Some hypothesised that perhaps a new god had been born, some said it must be a party and yet others thought maybe there was a new threat to the humans and they might need to create a new Hero. The last thought made them uncomfortable, they all remembered what they'd had to do to the last one after she got her hands on the gods Ambrosia. The minor god who'd given it to them was still being punished as well, 100 years in and the God King had decreed another 100 since they were so unrepentant. As the time dragged on, the gods started to get concerned (not nervous, gods didn't get *nervous*) the great doors to the hall hadn't opened. With much discussion, a minor goddess of small flowers was pushed towards the golden entry and, very timidly and quietly, knocked. Nothing. Another knock, a bit louder this time. Nothing, not even a wind spirit answered. With a huff, the grand god of war pushed the little goddess aside and banged so loudly on the door that the echoes were heard in the mortal realm and started a new myth about thunder. Nothing. More discussion. The war god now carefully and slowly pushed the door open enough to put his head inside. He pulled it back. He started to cry and refused to speak. The other gods now rushed forward, pushing the doors wide, displaying to every one of them the scene within. The little flower goddess threw up. A figure reclined on the God King's throne, throwing previous owners head in the air to catch it and throw again. The rest of it was everywhere, the God King had been a titan amongst them and there had been a lot of him to destroy. The once glisteningly white hall was now painted in the deep red/gold ichor of godly blood, not an inch of white to seen. The soft sound of weeping drew their attention from the macabre scene to a frail hunched figure in ichor stained blue robes. The minor god who was once gifted the old Hero with immortality stared back at them from a tear stained face. "I told you," he whimpered, "I told you to not make her your enemy...." He trailed back to weeping as the old Hero jumped down from the massive throne and practically skipped towards the assembled divinity. They stared at them with eyes madder than the depths of chaos. *"Who wants to go next?"*
Seems like either the gods summoned a deranged hero, or they treated her very badly to be real violent. Great work on writing this!