"Are you sssure you want to wager such a...hefty sum?" Rith whispered confidently, in his serpentine voice. "This ssshall not go well for you, you know not what you deal with."
"Hah, a weakling like you, I can't lose, and even if I did somehow, you couldn't take that anyways" The man retorted back.
"We ssshall see." Rith spat back

They grasped arms, and began to try and force the others down. Thick veins pulsated from the mans arms, a dark red. His muscles ripped underneath his tanned skin. Rith's scrawny arms barely held up. His pale hand was almost against the battered wooden table, nearly in defeat.

"sssooo....ssshhould I try now?" He laughed.

His arm shot up, forcing the other mans backward. He pressed the mans hand to the table, and kept pushing. With a resounding CCRRAACKK!! The mans fingers collapsed on themselves. Rith had broken this poor blokes knuckles.

"well...I sssee I win" Rith said gleefully, "I sshall take my reward now"

He reached for his belt, and took a long dagger out. Carefully, he put it to the mans arm, and nicked him. The blood flowed out, softly. Rith held up small vial to it, filled it to the brim, then put a lead stopper on it.

"You are no longer yoursss. You ssshall be called on, and when it comesss, you ssshall ssserve" Rith said, as he turned and left, leaving the man to stop the bleeding on his own.

He stepped out the bar, with a slight glean in his eyes and a smirk on his face. He slipped the red vial into his back pocket.

"Foolsss" He muttered. "Knowss not the forcesss that are in action."

He wore a black trenchcoat with a silver mantle, and a black cavalier. In his hands he had a cane made of black oak, with a brass eagle perched atop it. His skin was a pale white, whiter than even the fog that blanketed him. His hair was a coal black, and came down almost to his eyes. His eyes were a radiant blue, and gleaned like sapphires. Even still, there was a trace of darkness in those mystic blues.

Glorious black chariots gathered overhead, their masters cracking their neon whips at unseen horses, urging them forward. Tears of pain fell from the horses eyes and descended to the earth. They pounded down upon his cavalier, and streamed down his face through his hair. Rith paid no attention to them. He had business to take care of.

He sauntered down the street, oblivious of those around him. His breath smelled of whiskey. He continued walking, until the cobblestone streets became mud, and eventually he trudged into a grove in the nearby park. It was a small clearing in the center that attracted him. It was frayed with soft grass and heather, with the constant babbling off a small brook nearby. The center of the clearing had no vegetation, just cold dirt. Owls screeched in the distance.

He stopped in its center, and began to look upward. The storm had calmed. Riders put there chariots away, to bring them back to their glory another day. The moon was only a thin cresent directly overhead. There were no longer clouds, yet it was still a starless night.

Rith stared at the moon for a moment, said a prayer, and then began to work.

From inside his coat he brought forth a large piece of white chalk. He began to draw a pentacle on the ground. Simply a five pointed star in a circle at first, but then became more and more intricated. He traced over his lines, they seemed to slither like snakes. He drew strange symbols all throughout it, each centering around a three pointed star in its center.

He stood firmly in it, placed his cane in its center, closed his eyes, and then said, in a voice that did not come from him, "Ego, filius diabolus, utor is baculus ut reverto ut abyssus."

I, son of satan, use this staff to return to hell.

He opened his eyes. He was no longer in the grove. He was surrounded by thick pouring snow. He was back in hell.

Well, most people I know can't exactly trace their life back to their most memorable experience, or a moment where their life was completely changed. I, know mine, I remember every moment of it, every blade of grass on that farm.

When I was born, I had no father. He moved to Arkansas, leaving me and my mother alone in this world.

I grew up, knowing almost nothing about him, hearing his name maybe once or twice, but never really knowing or caring about it. I kept in contact with my grand-parents, my aunt, and my great grand-parents, but never him

Until, one day, my great grandmother, who still lived in the area, had me come over to their home. I had been there many times before, usually to help them around the house or keep them company, but this time was different.

There was a man, about six feet tall, sitting on the couch. He looked me in the eyes, and said
"Hi, my name is Micheal."

Over the next few days we hung out a lot, from playing legos, to throwing apples. I met his girlfriend, I learned a little about who he was, he had just came to the area for a little while, and would be leaving in a few days.

A few days later, Micheal, his girlfriend, and I went to the pumpkin patch.

It was a October day, a clear blue sky flew high overhead. The sun luminated the sky, radiantly, its drops of sunshine raining down on us. The oceans of gold were all that remained of the once green fields. The dirt road was dry and dusty, dust torrented upward with even a gentle push of the breeze.

The barn was an old barn, once painted a bright red, now faded with time and weather. Outside it stood a small stand where a few tired farmers sold some fruit and vegetables.

Beyond that, stood an array of tractors, lined up neatly. They were worn and battered, but they were the life force of these tired farmers.

Out in the distance, sat a small green patch of land, freckled with orange globes.

Pumpkins, of every size, each one having its own personality to it. Frightening, or jubilant, they speckled the field like boulders. Each one unique. Each one crying out to you, crying for you to take it home, and make it a masterpiece.

We trekked down to the patch, past the battered barn, past the worn farmers, beyond the tractors and plows, and into the fields.

Here, we examined each pumpkin, interrogated it. Found if it was suitable, or unwanted. We picked three pumpkins that were worthy of our knife, worthy of being sacrificed to art. Micheal carried began to carry them up the hill back to the tired farmers.

His girlfriend and I walked back to his car.

We stood there for a moment, silently. Then she spoke those words.

"It was nice of your dad to bring us here." She said.
"What?" I said, utterly perplexed. It didn't hit me yet.
"Your dad, it was nice of him to do this."
"I don't have a dad.." I stated, baffled.
"You didn't know he was your dad?"

I looked away, down the dirt road, past the fading barn, to the man named Micheal, carrying the pumpkins to the farmers. It explained why he was at my greatgrandmothers, it explained why he had been around me so much it explained...everything.

It sunk in. For the first time in my life, at nine years old, I met my father.

June 8th, 2031,Emissary notes.
High above the earth, a spherical object hovered.

It was a round object, about 30 yards in diameter, made of a dark metal. It had a ring of flashing lights around its center, as standard to every intergallactic spacecraft.

Metal spikes and other strange instruments, looking like some demonic torture devices, protruded from the craft at random intervals, checking the air content, light intensity, barometric pressure, and other random statistics I dont know.

After a while, the ship slowly began a descent to the surface of the planet, extra-terrestrial "hazard" lights flashing continuously.

It came closer to the surface, five legs came out and planted themselves on the ground, here, in a small field covered in patches of purple thistle.

From the bottom of the craft came what seemed like a flight of stairs, sleek and metallic.

Descending from these stairs, came three entities.

They were quite short and stocky, standing at a momentous height of four and a half feet tall. They had two large eyes, sky blue in color, a head of blonde hair, and pale green skin, From somewhere in the Alpha Centauri Region,.... great... those freaks again...

Damn Centaurians.....come to our planet, ask questions that have no use, eat a ton of our food, and then leave, back to wherever the hell their home is...

Meeting those kind of people are the kind that make me want to quit my job. They aggrivate me so much, but I was assigned here, and if I were to quit, the damn government would have me killed for what I know...

They waddled towards me, slightly awkwardly, because of the weight of the gravity of the earth pulling on them.

"Greetings aliens, to the planet earth. I, as a noble emissary of this planet, first would welcome you to Earth". I said. "My name is Kazel, and I'm here to to be your guide, and answer any questions you may have" I continued to drone on, discussing the atmosphere and the rotation of the earth.

"Enough!" said one of the beings. " We know all this bullcrap already, now we come for true knowledge"

"okay, shoot" I said, expecting another stupid question about what the meaning of life was or why the caged bird sings.

"Why, are sums of those stones you call coins only with certain people, and only those people live well?"

This hit me ... I never really noticed, or cared, how the money had been with only the powerful, and only the powerful lived well. Now that it was finally pointed out to me by an outsider, I....still didn't really care..

"Because, either, they were born into a family with lots of money already, they worked hard to gain this money, or met the right people in life and gained the correct breaks. With that money they invested and gained more money, thus heaping it with them."

"Why" they proceded to ask.

"Thats how the world works, many rich don't want to share the money they have, although some do"

Gosh, so stupid, damn aliens, we should save the Earth from idiocy, and put restrictions against them coming her, questioning our ways as they do...

"oh, okay...I guess" one Centaurian said, "We shall leave you now" The other said.

They quickly got back in their spherical craft, obviously confused as to what I said.

How rude of them! to ask questions regarding our sacred god!

I must Pray:

Our Dollar, Which art in wallet
Papered be thy fame
Thy Kingdom come,thy will be done
In Wal-mart as it is in Target
Give today our weekly check
And allow me to spend wisely
as we allow others to spend wisely
please, lead us now to Ebay,
but deliver its packages fast.
For thine is thy King
Thy Glorious king
Thy Greatest power
Forever, a spender,
Amen

Oh well, at least they weren't from the Orian's Belt Region, those entities really freak me out.

Draykhar chuckled quietly, the peculiar sound made the people that before him cringe, in dread of what was to come.

These people were in the Temple of Lore, awaiting their doom.

The temple was made of marble and sandstone crafted by master stonesmasons, millenias ago. Etched in the walls were all the stories of the lands, an entire history of the world, written in stone.

The stones had seemed, because of some unknown force, to never weaken or shatter. Countless wars had been fought around here, yet not even a stone was cracked.

"Mortals, you have been honored, you have met me, Draykhar" He whispered, " I am your god, now you may procede to the afterlife, if I choose to let you." He stood up from his throne and took a step forward

He was about six feet tall, a thin main, with a pure white beard going down to about belt length. He stood, slightly crouched, as if his back had broken from years of burden. He walked with a slender mahogany cane in one hand. One it werea vast amount of different symbols, each enscribed gold. In the other hand he held a dagger, unmarked. It was possibly the plainest dagger one could see, just a simple blade, and an iron hilt. He wore black robes, concealing his face, hiding himself from the world

He took another step outward, towards the six offerings.

Each was shackled to a pillar, unable to move, unable to run.

Draykhar came each one, turn by turn, and grabbed their chin with his pale bony hands. He looked into their eyes from beneath his robes.

"No, not you..." he said as he came to the first four, stabbing each one with his dagger as he went to the next.

"He came to the fifth and final person.

He was a young man, about the age of fifteen. He seemed to have been beaten recently in the past. His hands showed signs of hard labor, and his pale blue eyes, dull and lifeless as they were, showed traces of regret and anger.

Draykhar Studied the boy for a moment, observing his actions.

"What's your name Mortal?" he rasped.

"Jehkyt," the boy spat.

Draykhar took a step away

" No... Impossible..." he muttered, " look into my eyes"

Draykhar took down his hood, revealing his face.

His face was normal for a man of his age, except for one thing.

Jehkyt's eyes began to widen in terror. He began to crawl as far as he could away from Draykhar, but could not look away. His chains held him back, the farthest he could get away was nearly six inches.

Draykhar's eyes were not of this world.

The center was blood red, this eventually faded to a radiant gold around the edging. Odd coloring, sure, but this was not the most vivid feature of his eyes. They had no pupils. They faded, from blood red to radiant gold, with no black interruption in the center.

"You have seen my truth, now you are my liege" Draykhar muttered, "You are lucky, you shall live"

Draykhar grabbed Jehkyt's arm, and dragged him to the the the upper floor of the Temple, where his training was to begin

"Lets go for a walk," he leisurely said as they left the restaurant.

They wandered down the city streets, unaware of where they were going, and completely unaware of the people around them. The lovely autumn weather gave them no trouble.

"You had something you wanted to tell me," she said lazily.

He blushed slightly. "um... I'll ...uh... tell you ...um... later," he mumbled.

They continued to walk, hands clasped, down the road, to an unknown destination. Eventually they wound up at a park, near the ocean.

They stood for a few minutes, relishing the breath-taking sight before them.

The water was a saphire blue, clear and clean, a few small sailboats were drifting closer to the other shores, ready to tie up for the night. It was nearly sunset. A calm, cooling wind gently blew the golden brown maple leaves up from the ground in a flurry of movement, the birds chirped cheerfully as they flew back to their nests in the park trees, the fields of flowers swayed delicately in the wind, the fragrance of beautiful pink roses filled the air. The sun lowered itself lower and lower, inching closer towards the horizon, past the deep blue, full of mysteries and the unknown. Drops of gilded sunshine fell upon the couple sitting on the wooden park bench.


They smiled at eachother, and talked of good times, of all the time they had spent together, and the eternity that they had left. He held her gently, as if not to harm such a delicate beauty, and whispered sweet nothings in her ear. She laughed, and then stared deeply into his pale eyes, and gave him a passionate kiss. He told her how much he loved her, and how they were destined to be together. They shared a few more moments like this, and then grew silent to view the beauty around them.

The sun began to fade away, and the stars began to rise through the clear sky. There were millions of them, she gasped at the amazing multitude. The moon cast its luminous reflection down upon the ocean. The gentle breeze had stopped, the birds had all gone to their nests, all you could hear was the constant chirp chirp chirp of crickets.

"look, a shooting star," he whispered quietly.

She smiled and said, in that voice that sounded like a chorus of angels, "You make a wish."

"Well, okay," he said. He wished for the one thing he needed most right now, Courage.

"What did you wish for?" she asked him, in that entrancing voice.

" I can't tell you, or it won't come true."

"Please?"

"Well, fine. I asked for the courage to give you this." he whispered, as he pulled a ring box from his pocket." I meant to give it to you earlier, but I was afraid."

He looked deeply into her eyes, those beautiful eyes, and gave her the box.

She opened the small box, inside was a diamond engagent ring.

Freedom?

Land of freedom
Seems much more like
My doomed retreat
I wish upon the well
Please take me now
Away from this hell
To that once fabled
Land of freedom
My sweet retreat
Now its overridden with dangerous lies and a political regime
Please just give me the reality the flawless life that I now dream
Land of freedom
Seems much more like
My doomed retreat
I wish upon the well
Please take me now
Away from this hell
To that once fabled
Land of freedom
My sweet retreat
Freedom
Forever
Shall
Rule

Agnostic.

Sure, you may think that it means simply without a god, but it means much more to me.

Agnostic, in my opinion, means that you can neither confirm nor deny the existence of a greater being, so therefore cannot choose to believe or disbelieve in it.

I have chosen this as my religion for the time being because no religion has truly swayed me into believing it. I personally have not had an experience in my life that gives me belief in a god, but I also have not given up on the possibility that they exist.

I know that religion is based entirely on faith, but I feel as if I can’t live by the words of someone that I can't believe. So many people in our lives now lie, so much, how can we know that the people that wrote the religious books did not lie or alter it to fit them as well?

Also, over time the books have been rewritten, the Bible especially. With so many re-translations and so many versions, can we be sure that its meaning is still the same? Yes, I know we can compare it to the Dead Sea scrolls, but even then, can we be sure that our interpretation of it is right? In Christianity I have heard so many separate arguments over what should and shouldn't be taken literally, what is truthful, and what specific wording means, it all seems to have been lost in personal belief and political needs.

And the Qu’ran? I have not read it, but it was not written down for more than 200 years after the death of Muhammad. That means that it was oral language only, correct? Stories change from person to person, from recital to recital, each person adding a little, or taking a little away from it. The truth becomes extrapolated that you can't tell the truth from a skewed story.

Sorry, I just can't believe in something that is so easily possibly wrong.

Not saying that any of them ARE wrong mind you, just that they have a possibility of being wrong.

It is hard to live in a world where the Media, the Government, and even the people around you seem to be pushing you towards a religion.

Being agnostic does have its benefits, and those outweigh, in my opinion, its disadvantages.

The fact that I am agnostic does change the views I have really; but, it allows me to see them from a more realistic perspective. It allows me to see both sides of an argument, and then analyze it without a religious bias.

This also creates some very interesting discussions. You, as an agnostic can take either side, you can see it from both points, and possibly argue either with passion, unless your own personal morals stand in the way. You can get into a discussion regarding any religion (so long as you actually know about it), and state your opinions, without being called a heretic.

It does have its major disadvantages too though. People do kind of shun the religionless, it is odd in our society to be with out religion. When someone asks my religion and I politely give them my reply many either give me a confused look, ask what the hell that is, or deem me as abnormal and henceforth avoid me.

Confused look or asking what it is I can understand, it’s not the most common thing in our society, and many people don't know what it truthfully means.

But deeming one abnormal and avoiding them, that’s different. I have enough unlikable qualities that one doesn't need to hate me for my religion, and I have enough randomness that you can very easily find a different reason to declare me abnormal.

Sure, I rag on every faith in its turn (including Atheism and Agnostic), but I don't honestly avoid people because of decided faith. All people should be treated equally in regards to religion; our society should not deem one above another.

In conclusion, I feel as if my best personal religious choice is to remain agnostic, and see where life takes me. My religious choice may change in life, but for now, I think that I should learn more about the world we live in and my own personal choices before I direct that to the god(s) above.

Lucks Misfortune.
Blade of Lutherius, son of Rith.

Forged in the Depths of the Alarizar Caverns, nearly two thousand years ago, by a race so noble their blood ran gold.

Gilded with ancient runes, blessing its wielder with strength, courage, and energy.

Enblazoned with a radiant Sapphire, filled with fire and quenched with ice, perched atop the hilt.

Wielded in countless wars, used in many battles, it had killed many, yet hurt even more

A sword that could cut through stone.
A sword that could sway the masses, with a glance of its gem.
A sword, that lay forgotten.

Once a blade full of life and bloodlust, now, it lay undisturbed, on a tattered wood table, in a battered leather sheath, hiding its glory from the world, hiding its might from any prying eyes. It has been tossed aside, a priceless relic, now used as a petty paper weight. No longer is it an object of immense value, but an item of practicality.

Lutherius picked it up idly as he wandered without aim or purpose through the antique shop . He pulled of its battered coverings to see it for what it is. A blade, unique, but worn. It was marked with spots of rust, it was dull, and it had dark red spots on it that only his mind could imagine what were. Marked with etching of....symbols, now faded out and barely visible beneath a thin film of dust, meaning something probably, but they didn't matter much now. It had a gem on its hilt, neat looking, but covered in ages of dust and grime. Carved in its metal hilt, neat, but vividly,was two words: Lucks Misfortune

Lutherius gasped.
Was this the blade his father talked?

His father spoke of a sword, deemed the title "Lucks Misfortune" by a race long forgotten, lost in a battle by his ancestors. Now all that remained of this fabled sword was a memory, and a legend.

Until now.

Lucks Misfortune had its ways of coming back.
Now, it lay in the hands of Lutherius, its rightful heir.

Lutherius quickly picked up the blade and hurried to the counter, payed the man for the blade, three shillings, quite a petty sum, and then quickly left.

Prompt #3

I see them all, staring at me, menacingly from beneath their light tanned skin. They yell to put me in the closet, before the teacher returns.

A boy grabs my arm, and pushes me into a closet, the darkened abyss, no sunlight will reach me here. Frightened, I begin to pound on the door, screaming, as the darkness enshrouds me. The room feels so small, the walls begin to bend in over me.

My sight in enveloped in the darkness, I give up on breaking the door, and fall to the ground, crying softly. Tears run down my cheek, staining the cement below me with their salt. I will not see the sun. Suddenly, I see a flash of light from the crack beneath the door, I see....Light, and not from the lamps either, it is the sun, I see sunlight. After all these years on this dreadful planet, I can smell the sweet sunshine yet again. It reminds me of daisies, and of fresh cut grass, back from the days on earth, back in Ohio.

The sunlight begins to go away, slowly. I am quickly engulfed in the shadows, back into the darkness of the rain.

The others come back to me, slowly, they open the door. No one looked at my face, they all stared at their feet, silently, saying nothing. I walked away, and sat down silently in my desk.