Pointless Short Stories

Zed The Gamer

Zed, your average goblin living in his parents basement .His skin long forgot the taste of light;

Zed while playing Skyrim was dared with a quest to go outside, frustrated he shouts in their ear, sending them off. The very idea was an annusince, but a couple hours after being taunted the  anger that was growing in his mind reached a limit, with that he decided to prove he was still capable. As his journey began he placed the controller next to a table and rotated the chair. His first attempt, he lifts off but quickly falls back, now aware this will be a difficult challenge. He prepares for the recoil this time, knowing that if he fails it could mean the end. He thrusts forwards and stubbles to the wall two feet away, reaching out his stubby arms outwards. His hands hit the wall, soon the rest of his body bashes into the wall. His legs began to shake, as they have not been in use for months. Not just his legs suffered but as he merely stood it felt like he carried the world on his back, which at this rate wouldn’t last long. 

The difficult start left him completely drained of energy, he waits for it to replenish before he dies of oxygen loss. He soon realizes that his stamina is no longer going to recover, making this more of a dangerous journey to continue. Using the wall as his aid, he takes 5 mighty steps before reaching the couch, his memories start to sprout off when it wasn’t broken. As for when he last sat on said couch, it collapsed leaving him helpless on the floor, though thanks to his veil mother he was able to survive after she called the fire department. While distracted from his memories he accidentally lifts his leg in an attempt to take another step and loses his balance. As he stares at the nearing floor, he gropes the wall and wears down the couch. While his eyesight starts to go blurry and time seems to slow down he remembers the fire department coming as he laid on his back. The firemen gathered around him and one tighens an oxygen mask around his head. For his lungs were unable to fully expand as they were being crushed by his belly above, if he landed on his back his chances of surviving were much higher. But this time the demon above would not be able to call for help, as she was at ‘work’.

This is how I know she is the spawn of the devil for she constantly uses the word work, the most damned book of all words in the Bible. Refusing to give up and die here he grips the couch and pushes against the wall and in great effort manages to to rise back up on both feet. As he continues on his journey, he could turn back now and still make it, but after this there was no turning back.

The final boss;the stairs. As he stares above the vertical challenge he grows dizzy and nearly vomits. Though as he looks up and in that moment the sight of the first floor hypnotizes him and grants him the courage to challenge the first step. He grabs both ends of the walls as support and lifts up his leg upon the first step. He moves slightly forward and lets his leg naturally fall onto the next one. He attempts again but the sweat raining down his back loosens his grip on the wall and he begins to fall backwards. Full of courage, strength, and fear he pushes harder abusing the wall and thrusts forward slightly, and manges to lift himself up again on one leg and his other foot touches the next staircase, he survives another step. His journey continues and rumor has it that each time he defeated another step his neighbors house would shake as along with his own. The final step, slightly larger the the rest, already drained of energy and showered in sweat, he grabs the food frame outside and lifts himself out.  The boss is defeated but his quest does not end here.

He must now make it past the marble floor, to make it past the kitchen and reach the door that leads outside. The sweat dripping down and forming puddles will make the floor ever more slippery. He must walk fast or the floor will get too slippery, and the house is also weak, with each step it threatens to cave in. He quickens his pass to outmatch that of a tortoise. The windows each glimmer with light to help him guide forward. As he reaches the door, he panices for why it won’t open. Thou it has been awhile he remembered the door is locked. But he has forgotten how to solve this puzzle. After studying the door he notices two levers that can turn. After ten long minutes of him fiddling with the door the knob finally turns and begins to open. His journey is now completed as soon as he exits the house.
He opens the door while taking a step back, and is caught off guard by the blinding light, nevertheless he walks forward while his vision begins to return. He sees the light dazzle against the trees, but as he attempts to put his foot back down, it meets only air. A trap laid out in the end, the final step leading to the ground. Unable to catch himself he falls on the ground. Cracking the ground along with his spine, he thinks back before he dies, his only regret is not being able to tell that player that he made it outside. 

Share this story so the player may one day be aware of zed’s accomplishment. 

A Newborn Blade

Before a blade may emerge it must begin as a seed. At first the blade sprouts from its chambers at an early age. Rushing through the dungeons of the ground it squirmed as it fed against the it’s prison walls until he found a pool of water buried beneath. Once grown up he found a kingdom nearby, one with many civilians crowded in its castle. A mighty queen that must not be disturbed or else she shall send her army. Not even a blade could amount to such strength at an early age. During his journey he spread his arms as far as they could reach, touching the borders of many kingdoms around him. With age the blade grew taller, until he reached the top of the underworld. Without much effort the top gives out and he rises up and sprouts past the dirt. He continued rising to the distant sun, forever stretching out his hands. But the earth began to rumble, a erring sound came from all directions. Before him a storm of a thousand knives below past raining down on his fellow companies. Decapitating those in it’s trail. Before he noticed a knife had flung his head far pass all the kingdoms he had journeyed to a distant land. As he dried up he still stared at the sun until death. But this was not the end for his head would regrow anew and continue its journey to the cloud above.

Paint Job

Another day of walking home from middle school, my mother doesn’t like it but what choice do I have. She works at a nursery and doesn’t have enough time to pick me up. Finals have also started and the kids leave earlier than usual. Along summer soon awaits, the heat that comes with it is already here. I’m not much a fan of the heat, or walking, but it’s mostly due to my eating habits that makes walking difficult. But during school hours and walkling it’s the only exercise I get to negate the eating issue. I enter the driveway and go through the back so the neighbors don’t notice me. They have gotten pretty noisy lately, their son goes to the same school and they aren’t very fond of me. One day they followed me in their cars after I left the house. Nervous, I went around the block and back into my house, not going to school that day. The house is pretty worn down. My mother is too old to do house work anymore. I’m unable to reach very high and the latter doesn’t do a good job of supporting me. Entering through the back I carefully place my bag down, not to damage mother’s camera that I’ve been borrowing. Everyday after school I’m left hungrier than the previous day, but I’ve been avoiding it to lose weight. The doctor warns me every visit. I venture through the fridge but nothing seems to interest me anymore, not the cheese, peanut butter or even ice cream. Looking into the closest does no good either, even my favorite snack oreos have gone stale to my tongue and can no longer quell my hunger. There’s no choice, one more day can’t hurt. I’ll quit tomorrow. I head to the back of the house to the basement door. I slowly open the door and peer into the darkness below. There’s no going back now the temptation has already consumed me. I turn on the lights and head into the first room. The room stays as it had since father left us, it’s the only room in the house that remains clean except for the everlasting dust. My room personally is littered with manag and food on the floor. As I walk to the next room my hands began to throb,  I reached towards the door handle. Past the door lays a glistening metal cabinet, as I stare saliva drools from my mouth. I place my hand on the cold door handle and turn it. But again it’s locked, mother has kept it locked ever since she found out. But that hadn’t stopped me. My hands shake with excitement which makes it hard to pick the lock. A much needed skill to learn. As the lock turns, sweat drops from my head as the locks turn and I begin to pry open the door. I pull out a can of paint and grab a hammer. The dry paint that once dripped from the side mocks me. I slowly open the lid carefully as not to spill. The condensed liquid that lays claim. the bucket’s insides sparkles in my eyes. I quickly dip my hands in the paint and take a drink.” The taste never gets old, as it slides down my mouth in chunks. No food could compare. As I sit devouring every last drop of the enriching flavor. As a last precaution I tip the bucket forward so the last of it flows out into my mouth, like a kid drinking from a kid. The taste still eched into my mouth. The paint drying against my throat staining it in flavor.A new feeling emerges, this time in my chest. The thumping in my heart goes deeper and harder. Another heart attack. It’s worse than last time, I can’t even get up. I’m stuck eyeing the ceiling. My vision grows dark, my only regret is not being able to see those kids again before summer starts.

“I get my inspiration from watching paint dry”















“I will be posting this story on RoyalRoad.com,