Category: Fantasy

Writing is hard, so I’ve decided to start using AI to create everything from now on, because it’s totally real art. Take for example this story, which I wrote by typing “The” into an AI and then hitting the Create button over and over again. I think you’ll find that it’s just as good as, if not better, than anything written by a human being.

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The young man sat on the deck of his small sailing ship, a bone in his teeth. His eyes were closed and his brow furrowed in concentration. He was attempting to ignore the fact that the bone was from a human finger, and had been forcibly removed from its former owner less than an hour ago.

He heard the familiar snap as the sail luffed in the breeze and the ship slowed.

“Trim that forrard leach,” he ordered, without opening his eyes. He sucked harder on the bone and felt the blood squirt along its interior.

“It is trimmed out, Captain,” a young girl’s voice answered. The voice was calm, despite the circumstances. “We’re ghosting along and making good speed, but you might as well be trying to drink the sea for all the good it’s doing us. You might as well come up for air and deal with me.”

The man opened his eyes and stared at the young woman who had spoken. She was pretty, but not in the soft, fragile way of the women on shore. She was strong and tanned, with the hardened muscles of someone used to physical work.

Her black hair was cropped short, and her clothing was as close-fitting as a second skin, and colored green to help her hide in the trees and vegetation of the swamps and jungle she loved.

The young man spat out the bone and ran his tongue over his teeth. His gums were still bleeding a little and it made his mouth taste coppery and strange.

“How long has it been, Raveka?”

“Two years, three months, and seventeen days. Almost to the hour.”

“So long? And yet it seems like yesterday. I remember that last night, when we were alone. It was warm and the stars were out. I’d never noticed how many stars there were, and how they shone so bright. I remember, we had a bottle of wine, and I had only taken a single sip when you pushed me down in the grass and drank my breath from my mouth. I was afraid of what I was feeling, and you held me tight and told me not to be. Then the sun rose, and you were gone. I was afraid then too. But I had more reason. Do you know, Raveka, that the Mathematicians call love an equation with no solution? Why is that, I wonder?”

“Because mathematics is a science without a God, and so is love.”

“Then we are damned, you and I.”

Raveka smiled, revealing a set of teeth that were pointed and sharp, like those of a shark.

“Perhaps, Captain, but I find our damnation much more interesting than a salvation devoid of sin. Now, will you give me what I came for or must I take it?”

The young man shook his head and laughed.

“My dear, if you wanted it, I’d give it to you. I have no need to keep what is freely offered, but the ship and the men on it belong to another, and the prize we took tonight is already on its way to be sold.”

“Captain, I would expect no less of your honor. Your crew is well known as honest pirates. I am here for information. The man who was killed tonight, did he have any family or friends?”

The captain nodded and sighed. “He had a wife, but I do not know her name. I believe she lives on a farm somewhere near the swamps.”

“That is all I need to know.”

“I suppose it is.”

“One other thing, Captain. May I borrow one of your men?”

“Certainly. As you say, what is freely given cannot be taken.”

Raveka bowed deeply and left the cabin.

As soon as she was gone, the captain reached under the bench and pulled out the bloody bone. He licked it clean, and then began to suck on it again.

His eyes closed, his brow furrowed in concentration, and he imagined that the blood in the bone was the sap of the stars, and that the young woman was still holding him tight.

“It was her.”

“The Vulture, the leader of the Iron Guard, has returned, and this is all you can tell us? She was there, she did it, and that’s it?”

The old man was tired, and the trip to the castle had taken a great deal out of him.

“That’s it. That’s all I can tell you. There was no more time, and the rest of them, they just stood and watched. They didn’t fight, and they didn’t try to stop her. I don’t know why. I didn’t get the chance to ask them. You’d have had better luck finding someone who could have told you where she’d been.”

The old man fell silent and stared at the young king, as though expecting an answer. When none came, he leaned forward and asked a question of his own.

“You know, Your Majesty, the world is a funny place. We live in a palace, and have servants to do everything for us, but the food still tastes the same as the food you eat when you live in a hut and scratch a living out of the ground. I remember my father saying that kings live on crumbs and scraps, no better than the poorest man. He didn’t know any more than I do about the secrets of the high and mighty, but sometimes I wonder if he was right. The rich, they have secrets that the poor can’t even dream of. I know this for a fact, because once, a very long time ago, when I was younger than you are now, I lived in a palace. Not one this big, of course, and I had a title, not a job. And then, one day, I found out a secret that changed my life. And I think the same thing is happening to you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” said the king. “I really don’t.”

The old man got to his feet and started toward the door.

“Don’t worry, Sire. Things will look brighter in the morning. I’m an old man and I know these things. Good night, Sire.”

“Good night, Mr. Screed.”

“Good night, Sire.”

Mr. Screed left the king alone with his thoughts.

And his worries.

And his dreams.

And his fears.

The king’s room was large, and the bed was larger. In the center of the room, the king knelt, and around him, the walls were closing in.

He tried to get to his feet, but the bedposts swung and slammed against him, knocking him back onto his knees. He struggled to his feet again, only to find the wall sliding ever closer.

Then the wall stopped. It had reached the end of its journey.

And so had the king.

A small crack had formed at the base of the wall. He peered into the crack, and found himself staring down a tunnel. A cold wind blew into his face. He hesitated, and then stepped through the wall and into the tunnel.

The tunnel led down, ever down. At first he followed it because he had no choice, but then it became clear that he was not following the tunnel. The tunnel was following him.

It followed him past his parents’ graves. It followed him past the grave of the old queen.

It followed him to his own grave.

He stopped, and looked, and shuddered, and the tunnel grew smaller and tighter.

He was trapped. There was nowhere to go, no way to escape. He was going to die in the tunnel.

“Sire! Wake up, Sire! It’s just a bad dream!”

He was awake, and in his own bed, and Mr. Screed was kneeling beside him, holding him by the shoulders.

“Just a dream,” repeated the king. “No need to worry. You’re safe. Just a dream.”

The king nodded, and lay back in his bed.

“Thank you, Mr. Screed,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome, Sire,” said the old man. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

And the old man turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The king lay in his bed and wondered if the old man had really saved him.

Or was he simply dreaming now?

“There it is, Sire.”

“You’re right. There it is. What should we do, Mr. Screed?”

“Well, we could go inside, Sire, and find out who’s there, or we could wait until someone comes out and ask them. Either way, we’ll know.”

“Yes, I suppose we will. All right, let’s go inside.”

“Very good, Sire.”

The two men were in the woods just beyond the edge of the kingdom.

They had come to see who lived in a small cottage in a clearing among the trees.

It was late in the evening, and the light was fading fast.

“All right, Mr. Screed. Let’s go.”

“After you, Sire.”

The king approached the front door, which was cracked open. He was about to push the door open when he heard a soft sound behind him. He turned and saw Mr. Screed, his back against the side of the house, his face pale and his eyes wide open.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Screed?”

“Oh, nothing, Sire. It’s just that, well, it’s been a long time since I’ve been inside a house. That’s all.”

“Well, don’t worry. We won’t stay long.”

“Thank you, Sire. You’re a good man.”

“Not really, Mr. Screed, but I try to be.”

The king pushed the door open and entered the cottage.

It was dark and the smell of woodsmoke was heavy in the air.

“Hello?” he called out. “Anyone here?”

“Come in, Sire,” a voice replied. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“We?” the king asked, peering into the darkness.

“Yes, Sire,” the voice answered. “We.”

The king’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.

And he saw them.

All of them.

Standing there.

In the shadows.

Waiting.

For him.

“Welcome home, Your Majesty,” they said.

And then, he was gone.

The old man stood there, staring at the empty place where the king had been.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he said. “It’s just the way it had to be.”

The old man left the cottage and went back into the woods.

He walked for hours, trying to understand what had happened.

But he couldn’t.

“No matter,” he said aloud. “It will all become clear in time. It will all become clear.”

And he kept walking.

The kingdom was in mourning.

The king was dead, and the country was without a ruler.

People were worried.

They were worried that they would have to pay taxes.

They were worried that they would have to buy new shoes and clothes.

They were worried that they would have to feed and clothe themselves.

They were worried that they would have to work and pay their bills.

They were worried that they would have to learn how to take care of themselves.

And they were worried that they would have to grow up.

But most of all, they were worried about the future.

And so was the old man.

He was worried that the country would fall into ruin and chaos.

He was worried that people would starve and die.

He was worried that the people would lose their faith in the gods.

And he was worried that the gods would lose their faith in the people.

“We can’t let this happen,” the old man said. “We have to do something.”

And so he did.

He went to the palace, and he found the crown.

And he put it on his head.

“I am the king now,” he said.

And he was.

“There’s a new king,” people said.

“What’s his name?”

“The Old King,” they said.

“But what’s his real name?”

“His name is the Old King,” they said.

The old king wore the crown and the cape and the robes and the jewels.

And he ruled the country.

“What’s he like?” people asked.

“He’s the best king we’ve ever had,” they said.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s the only one who ever did anything,” they said.

And he did.

He built roads.

He built bridges.

He built canals.

He built dams.

He built houses.

He built schools.

He built hospitals.

He built temples.

He built churches.

He built farms.

He built factories.

He built mills.

He built foundries.

He built canneries.

He built bakeries.

He built shipyards.

He built railways.

He built mines.

He built warehouses.

He built markets.

He built aqueducts.

He built waterwheels.

He built windmills.

He built power stations.

He built dams.

He built dams.

He built dams.

The old man ruled the country.

The old king was the best king they had ever had.

He was the only one who had ever done anything.

“What’s he like?” people asked.

“He’s a good king,” they said.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s the only one who ever did anything.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s the best king we’ve ever had.”

The old man wore the crown and the cape and the robes and the jewels.

And he ruled the country.

He built the country.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Screed?”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I have a terrible headache. Would you mind if I took a walk?”

“Of course not. Take as long as you like.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Mr. Screed bowed and left the room.

The old man was alone in the room.

He sat in his chair and stared at the wall.

He was alone.

“It’s a beautiful day,” the old man said. “The sun is shining. The birds are singing. The flowers are blooming. And I’m here.”

The old man closed his eyes.

He could hear the birds.

He could hear the wind.

He could feel the sunlight.

He could smell the flowers.

He could taste the air.

“It’s a beautiful day,” the old man said.

And he was there.

He was alive.

“There’s a new king,” people said.

“His name is the Old King.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s the best king we’ve ever had.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s the only one who’s ever done anything.”

The old man ruled the country.

He built the country.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Screed?”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I think my back is bothering me.”

“Take a seat, Mr. Screed. You look tired.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Mr. Screed sat in the chair.

The old man stood and walked to the window.

“It’s a beautiful day,” the old man said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I love the country, Mr. Screed.”

“Me too, Your Majesty.”

“Do you know why I love it so much, Mr. Screed?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“It’s because I built it.”

“You did, Your Majesty.”

“And you helped, Mr. Screed.”

“I did, Your Majesty.”

“We all did, Mr. Screed. We all helped build it.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“But I did more than anyone else, didn’t I, Mr. Screed?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And you helped me, didn’t you, Mr. Screed?”

“I did, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Mr. Screed.”

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.”

The old man turned away from the window.

“Would you like some tea, Mr. Screed?”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“And something to eat, Mr. Screed?”

“That would be nice, Your Majesty.”

The old man picked up the phone.

“Yes, this is the king. I’d like to order a cup of tea and some biscuits for my secretary.

“And please make sure they’re nice and fresh.

“Thank you.”

The old man put down the phone.

“There, Mr. Screed. All taken care of.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“You know, Mr. Screed. It’s a funny thing. People ask me what’s it like to be a king. And I tell them that it’s a wonderful life. But sometimes I wonder.”

“What do you wonder, Your Majesty?”

“Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if I hadn’t done anything at all.”

“Why would you say that, Your Majesty?”

“Because then, at least, no one would have noticed.”

“No one would have noticed what, Your Majesty?”

“My mistakes.”

“What mistakes, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, you know, Mr. Screed. Little things. Big things. Sometimes even important things. Things that, once they’re done, can never be undone. But most of all, the mistakes that no one will ever notice. That’s the worst kind. Because no one will know what you did, or how you did it. They’ll never know. And you’ll never be able to tell them. You’ll have to live with it forever. Do you know what I’m talking about, Mr. Screed?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I do.”

“Good. I thought you might. You’ve always been a smart one. Always understood what I was saying. Even when no one else did.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Here, take this. You need it more than I do.”

The old man held out a small package.

“What is it, Your Majesty?”

“Something special. Just for you. Open it.”

Mr. Screed opened the package.

Inside was a key.

“It’s a special key, Mr. Screed. You see, Mr. Screed, in the past few months, I’ve become quite concerned about security. So I’ve been making some changes. Some small changes. Some big changes. And I think you’ll find that this is one of the small changes. Now, if you’ll just follow me, I’ll show you.”

The old man walked toward the door.

“Come on, Mr. Screed. It’s time.”

The old man walked through the door.

Mr. Screed followed him.

The two men walked through the hallway, and then down the stairs, and then through the kitchen, and then into the cellar.

“Now, Mr. Screed, what do you think of my new security system?”

Mr. Screed looked around.

The cellar was filled with boxes and barrels and bottles and crates and jars and sacks and bags.

“It’s very impressive, Your Majesty.”

“Good. Now, what do you think of the other change?”

“What other change, Your Majesty?”

“Why, the one we’re standing in, of course. This new cellar.”

“This isn’t a new cellar, Your Majesty.”

“Really? Then what is it?”

“It’s an old cellar, Your Majesty.”

“I don’t understand, Mr. Screed.”

“It’s a cellar that’s been here for years, Your Majesty. It’s been here for so long, no one even remembers where it is.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Screed?”

“Absolutely, Your Majesty.”

“Then where’s the new cellar, Mr. Screed?”

“There isn’t one, Your Majesty. There never was.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. It’s true. This cellar is the only one that’s ever been here.”

“Then why did you tell me it was new?”

“Because I knew that would make you happy, Your Majesty. Because I knew that it would be a small thing that would make a big difference. Because I wanted to do something nice for you, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Mr. Screed.”

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.”

“Now, I think it’s time we got back upstairs.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

The two men left the cellar.

“That was a nice thing you did for me, Mr. Screed.”

“It was nothing, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t be so modest, Mr. Screed. It doesn’t become you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The old man stopped.

“What is it, Your Majesty?”

“Nothing, Mr. Screed. I just remembered something. A mistake I made. An important mistake.”

“What was it, Your Majesty?”

“I gave the wrong orders.”

“Orders to whom, Your Majesty?”

“To the guards, Mr. Screed.”

“What guards, Your Majesty?”

“The guards at the gate.”

“What about the guards at the gate, Your Majesty?”

“The ones I ordered to keep you in the cellar.”

“But they did, Your Majesty. I’m still here.”

“Yes, Mr. Screed, but now they’re in the cellar. With you.”

The old man reached for the key.

“But that’s impossible, Your Majesty.”

“That’s the way I wanted it, Mr. Screed. That’s why I gave the wrong orders.”

The old man smiled.

“You know, Mr. Screed, this key opens the door to the new cellar. The one that’s been here all along.”

“But what if I don’t want to go in the new cellar, Your Majesty?”

“Then you won’t have to, Mr. Screed.”

“But if I go into the new cellar, Your Majesty, what will happen to me?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Screed. It depends on what’s inside.”

“Your Majesty, are you trying to tell me something?”

“Yes, Mr. Screed. I’m trying to tell you that the world is a funny place. Sometimes, the people who try to do the right thing make the biggest mistakes. And sometimes, the people who try to do the wrong thing end up doing the right thing. But mostly, Mr. Screed, the world is just a bunch of stupid people. Trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

“Now, are you ready, Mr. Screed? Ready to open the new door?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then let’s go.”

The two men went to the door.

“It’s been nice knowing you, Mr. Screed.”

“Likewise, Your Majesty.”

The old man unlocked the door and the two men went through it.

The cellar was dark and cold.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a cellar, Your Majesty.”

“Not as long as you’d think, Mr. Screed.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“So, what do you think, Mr. Screed? Do you like the cellar?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I like it very much.”

“Good. I’m glad. Because it’s your new home. And mine.”

“I thought as much, Your Majesty.”

“So, would you like a drink, Mr. Screed?”

“Very much, Your Majesty.”

“Of course, Mr. Screed.”

“And one for yourself, Your Majesty.”

“No, thank you, Mr. Screed. But you go right ahead. Have a glass of wine.”

“I’d love to, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

“Not at all, Mr. Screed. In fact, you’re very welcome.”

The old man smiled.

“Now, Mr. Screed. Shall we get to work?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Let’s get to work.”

The two men laughed and drank their wine and went to work.

“So, what do you think, Mr. Screed?”

“Very good, Your Majesty.”

“How’s the meat, Mr. Screed?”

“Very juicy, Your Majesty.

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HA HA APRIL FOOLS YOU IDIOTS