#WMHD and #WEP Horrorfest 2024

October 10 is World Mental Health Day.






Sometimes, having someone else shop for you can improve your mental health for the day. Here's a discount on Instacart.

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~~~🎃👻👿💀😈💫~~~🎃👻👿💀😈💫~~~

https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2024/10/wep-halloween-flash-fiction-special.html

Disclaimer 1:

For this fiction, Hell exists. It is sort of a pocket dimension. Human souls are often sent there after death for "cleansing punishment" in varying degrees of time and type. (Eternity for some, momentarily for the more innocent, etc.) Those condemned souls are usually unaware of the death the body they inhabited has undergone, thus they can experience pain, suffering, and trauma— all as the living would. 

Accounts of Hell describe it as a place of incredible fire, as if inside a star or forming planet, with strong stenches of sulfur. Demons are known to be the primary creatures to deliver punishment and are thought to be organized in a hierarchy (like corporations, militaries, etc.). 

Disclaimer 2: 

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt22003362/

Special Forces: World's Toughest Test

("Special Forces: World's Toughest Test is an American reality quasi-military training television series that premiered on Fox on January 4, 2023.")

This FICTION is inspired by this "reality tv" show. 

This fiction should, in no way, be considered a true or accurate desire or wish. There was an episode where one of the Staff insulted a candidate by saying he was like a "scared little girl." That is the inspiration for this, because there was no need to insult an entire gender or age group. 

In every episode, they all go somewhere to do a challenge. Then, the Staff picks a candidate to blindfold with a hood and pull into the meeting room to discuss why they're there and dig into their mental and emotional states. After that, usually, there are endurance exercises or something to "pay" for failing the challenges. (The Format changes by episode.) 

Pronunciation Guide: Jauroran - Make the J sound, "Juh," then the word aurora, then "an." Imagine him as a handsome young actor who would be cast to play a prince. 

Cruelabra - Combine the word cruel with "abra" (like candelabra).

Tagline: Never underestimate "scared little girls."

Guardian Demon

Jamie Dorner - 800 words - FCA

Bucky and the other Staff decide to pull candidate Jauroran in for a discussion. As his hood is removed, Jauroran shakes and sweats as he is sat on the metal chair. 

"Still a mess? You're back here on solid ground. Worried you'll fall off the chair?" Bucky asks, his smirk widening at the terrified young celebrity. 

"Yes, Staff. Err, no, Staff." Jauroran puts his head in his hands and tugs his famous haircut.

Bucky yells at him, "LOOK AT ME!" 

Jauroran moves his hands. His eyes close as he slowly cracks his neck. His fingers extend, each knuckle cracking. The stink of sulfur fills the room as the camera equipment fails. Jauroran's handsome twenty-four-year-old face appears to wrinkle and melt, replaced by a ghastly visage. 

"What thef**k?" Bucky smacks the table as he tries to get up. 

"Aww, can't move? Pity." An eerie voice emanates from Jauroran, like an evil ventriloquist woman is puppeting him. "That wide-eyed look, your racing pulse, the urine running down your pants… if I didn't know better, I'd say you, Bucky, have become a scared little girl." 

The last three words echo off the walls. Next to the table, a cloudy vision of Bucky using that same phrase earlier appears. Jauroran, clinging to a rope, begging for help and direction, fades in the cloudy hallucination. Only the ghost-like view of Bucky shouting about worthlessness remains. The shape changes as clouds swirl around the form. A young Bucky hovers there, yelling at someone else. 

"A scared little girl," the eerie voice from Jauroran says. "I do hope you remember your first." 

Bucky swats at the cloudy image. "What is this?" 

"We normally wait for your death to review your failures to humanity." The eerie voice cackles. "I am Cruelabra, a demon in service directly to our leader. It is impossible to imagine that she was once a human child, isn't it?"

"What? Who? How?" Sweat pours down Bucky's face. 

"She died that day. You impressed the bullies for a few hours. And she fell to her death. Scared, betrayed, begging for your help. Such an isolated child. Upon arrival to Hell, she was found almost entirely innocent. Except forgiveness was not in her soul. We don't mind. In fact, such a trait made her a demon and fast-tracked her promotions. She leads the demons now." Cruelabra's cackling laugh shakes the room. 

Jauroran's feet kick up onto the table as his body reclines in the chair. "Here's what's especially funny," Cruelabra's voice says from his melted-looking lips. "The scared little girl you failed to help, who you harassed to save your own skin, not only is she now the demon ruler of Hell, but Jauroran is her nephew."

Bucky whimpers that it wasn't his fault, crying about his innocence and just being a boy back then.

Cruelabra laughs. "That girl's family assumed she went to some other dimension. Peace, love, fluffy clouds, whatever humans hope to go to after life. So, when her sister gave birth twenty-four years ago, and the infant struggled to survive, the family prayed for the dead girl to look after the baby. They didn't know what they asked. She assigned me."

Bucky retched. "You're a guardian angel?"

Jauroran's feet swung off the table. Cruelabra scoffed at the bile. "Disgusting human. I am a guardian demon, more or less. I possess this body whenever he feels stressed or pained, or so many of the feelings he felt today. Usually, he's a happy actor, playing the prince you all know and love. You know the feelings he mentioned that his career has been so much easier than everyone else's, that he's here to test himself because he feels like something unknown has always helped him? That's accurate. He doesn't know I can enter at any time or that I've ensured his success at every turn. I have. And he will win your little show. You will see to it."

"I can't. There's nothing I can do," Bucky's words sputter as he begs.

"You will. Jauroran shall not feel such fear and failure again on your watch." Cruelabra leans closer. "We have no obligation to wait for your death to start the torture. I have taken down many humans. Do you like your identity?" 

Bucky whimpers, "Please, don't do this."

"Jauroran wins. You will protect and help him. Prevent him from feeling isolated and abandoned. Cheat, lie, do all that you must. Oh, and never call someone a scared little girl again. You have one waiting for you, though she's no longer scared. And certainly not little. Your soul belongs to a demon leader, and you will feel what she felt, amplified, for all eternity."

As his face returned to normal, Jauroran shook his head. "Staff? Did I pass out?"

 

Funniest ... well, at least the humorous image goes with my story. 

😅🤷‍♀️ I tried. 😘

Doc #AtoZchallenge #MentalHealth #AdForRoomatesStory #Paranormal #UrbanFantasy

This month-long story, “Ad for Roommates,” told in twenty-six parts, is an urban fantasy intended for readers over age fifteen. Liv, the main character, is an adult in her thirties. This is a prequel to a forthcoming book and my theme for the #AtoZchallenge. To meet another character from from this story world, visit the (adult) blog of co-host Jayden R Vincente.



The very idea of seeing another therapist has me in the lavatory wiping cold sweat from my face. I considering vomiting. My phone dings, reminding me that the appointment is in five minutes. I’m here, I’m signed in. But I’m hiding in the lavatory instead of the waiting room. I hate those waiting rooms.

Mushroom risotto. It took a lot of time and energy to prepare. And, though it tasted great going down, it’d be horrible coming up. Would probably get caught in my teeth. I don’t have enough time to vomit and brush my teeth. So, there it is. I can’t vomit because I don’t have time.

My stomach is less convinced. It doesn’t care for logic. Asking a therapist for help is hard enough, I won’t add on bad breath. I wheel to the sink, wash my hands, and check my makeup. It’s just some eyeliner and lipgloss. No harm done. I head to the evil waiting room.

“Liv Good?” A woman who could easily be a plus-sized model smiles at me.

“That’s me. I like your glasses.” Copper and purple are swirled together along the frame. The rims have sparkling gems, probably cubic zirconia.

“Thank you. Come with me, please.” I follow her to an office and park next to a couch.

She sits in what looks like a very expensive swivel chair and crosses her legs. “I’m Dr. Patel. You may call me that, or Doc, or Doctor, or Deepanwita if you can pronounce it. Is it Liv or Olivia?”

“It’s Liv. It’s Norwegian. And I know what it’s like to have people mess up your name.”

“Liv Good? People have trouble saying that?” She presses her pen to a notepad.

“No. My dad. His surname is Skjeggestad. He wants me to change my name to that. But I prefer my mom’s name. I think you can understand why.”

She nods. “Is that what brings you in?”

“My dad, in general, yeah. I mean, that’s not my biggest problem.” I motion to the chair. “The hip and spine arthritis, dealing with that, obviously is my biggest issue.”

“Why do you say that it is obvious?”

“Because you can see it? It’s an inconvenience to myself and others.” I bite my tongue. Here comes the lecture.

I wait. But she just smiles.

“Okay. I know I’m not supposed to call myself an inconvenience. But because of me, and people like me, there have to be special bathrooms and curbs with ramps and reserved parking spaces. Plus, the chair takes up space. It gets stuck in the rain and snow. If I do things that others consider normal or fun, I become an annoyance. I’m in the way. And it’s proof that I’m not taking care of myself. Then I become a burden to others. They end up having to take care of me.”

“You think people aren’t interested in taking care of one another?”

I stare at her. “Not really. Maybe some of them, if they have time. But on the whole, no.”

She nods.

“I see it when I go shopping. People wish I wasn’t there. And imply that maybe I should just stick with home delivery. Pay for the service. But I like seeing what’s at the store, comparing prices and finding sales. More than that, I like to pick my own produce.”

She smiles again. I’ve said way too much. And haven’t touched on my ad for roommates or the paranormal creatures in my home. “None of this is what I’ve come to talk about. I just want to know if I’m crazy… wait, no, not crazy. I mean, I’m doing something and I need to know if I’m doing the right thing. Or if there’s a downside of which I’m not considering.”

***629 words

Tenth Anniversary of the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge bloghop.