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    Note: This was part of a longer story I was writing as a tribute to the game NetHack, one of my favorite games. I haven’t worked on this in awhile and I’m most likely going to rewrite it at some point. This is also going to be a thing every now and then, where I’ll upload drafts of unfinished stories that I either lost interest in or felt needed to be rewritten.

    And with a loud crack, the door slammed shut. Seth glanced behind him. No turning back now, he thought. He studied his surroundings. The room he was in was big and mostly empty, aside from himself. He saw two doors on opposite ends of the room, one of which was open. He decided to take the open door and see where it led first. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the door.

    The door led to a dark corridor. He could see a little bit ahead of him, but not very far. He reached for the sheath on his belt and gripped his dagger. Just in case, he thought. He slowly stepped through the corridor, trying not to make too much noise. He walked for about 3 minutes before he heard something. It sounded like a door opening, but he couldn’t tell from where. He glanced behind him. Couldn’t see back into the other room. He sighed, forgetting how dark the corridor was. He pressed onward.

    Eventually, he came to another room, but unlike the previous room this one wasn’t empty. There was a fountain in one of the corners, and some things lying on the ground. And directly across from Seth was a kobold. The kobold was shorter than Seth, and had light green scales. It was wearing tattered clothes. It was also armed. Seth pulled out his dagger, ready to strike. The kobold, moving faster than Seth could react to, quickly threw a dart towards Seth. Luckily for Seth, it missed. Seth stood still, planning his next action. The kobold, noticing that Seth wasn’t attacking, paused and readied another dart. The two of them stared at each other.

    After what felt like minutes, the kobold grew impatient and was about to throw his next dart when Seth quickly threw his dagger straight at the kobold. The dagger flew and impaled the kobold through the hand, with enough force to pin his hand against the wall. Seth quickly ran towards the kobold and readied his second dagger. The kobold snarled and reached to pull the dagger out of its hand. It succeeded and turned back towards Seth when it realized Seth was standing directly in front of it.

    The kobold choked and staggered. Seth had stabbed it in the stomach. The kobold fell to the ground, blood slowly gathering in a pool around it. Seth walked over to the kobold and ripped out his dagger, which caused the kobold to grunt in pain. Seth then forcefully stabbed the kobold in the back. The kobold choked again, and then went slump. Seth pulled out his dagger and turned the kobold over. It wasn’t breathing. He pulled out the dagger stuck to the kobold’s hand and looked at the corpse. Perhaps it has something useful. He searched the kobold. He found a number of darts, and, thinking they could come in handy, placed them in his pouch.

Scraps: HACK
A draft of an unfinished story that I'll probably rewrite at some point in the future.

By the time that we die

Our spirit's at rest

That's when we fly

To the place that's the best

But what if that place

At the end of our rope

Isn't full of grace

And it's all one big joke?

Nothing is certain

At the end of it all

When you close the curtain

There's nowhere to fall

But that's just a guess

And a rough one at that

When you're in a mess

And need some help stat

Don't end it all there

And just slip away

Push through your fears

There's always a way

None of us know

What's waiting for us

But the older we grow

The harder the stress

I know life is shit

And you want an escape

But this isn't it

And it's never too late

    Wilson awoke to the sound of birds chirping. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He glanced around him. Well, still here, he thought. That rules out this being a dream. He got up, stretched, and picked up his vest from the ground, shaking it to get some of the dirt off. He figured he'd have to wash it later. He looked around, and called out hoping to get a response. Nothing. He sighed, and started wandering around again.

     Wilson looked around as he traveled, hoping to find things of interest. He picked berries, picked up seeds, and pulled some grass. He even found a few carrots. He thought about what he would need to do to last out here, at least until he found a way back home. As he laid out his plan of action in his mind, he munched on some carrots.

     If I'm going to survive out here, I need to survey the area, he thought. There's gotta be something useful around here. Once I do that, I should make some kind of camp. If I can find gold, I just might be able to build something to help me. As his thoughts raced, he stopped paying attention to his surroundings, which proved to be an error because shortly after that last thought he tripped over a rock. Wilson yelped as he fell and landed on his stomach. He groaned and looked at what he tripped over.

     It wasn't a rock. Well, technically it was, but not any ordinary rock. It was a lump of gold. Wilson looked at it quizzically. Gold? Sitting in the middle of nowhere? Wilson picked it up and examined it. It certainly looked like gold to him, but without his tools from his lab he couldn't be 100% certain. After all, it could be pyrite. He put it away and looked around. He only just realized his surroundings were vastly different from before. He previously was in a green plain with plants and various small animals everywhere, but now the grass was dark brown, and there were quite a few trees surrounding him, except for this clearing ahead of him. That's when he noticed the trail of rocks leading towards the clearing.

     He glanced ahead of him and squinted, trying to see what was in the clearing. There were small boulders, and lots of them. He also saw some shiny things, which could be more gold. He would have run towards it without hesitation if it weren't for the trail of rocks in front of him. Trails of rocks don't occur naturally, at least he wasn't aware if they did. Someone had to have put them there. Wilson pondered over this for a few minutes but decided not to question it, and besides, as far as he could tell, nothing here seems natural.

     As Wilson approached the clearing, picking up the little rocks along the way, he realized that he really needed a pickaxe to make good use of this area. He looked over the things in his bag. He'd never made a pickaxe before, but figured it couldn't be much different from making an axe. He went about making one as best he could.

     After he finished, he immediately went to work hitting a boulder. Wilson may look scrawny, but he's got a surprising amount of stamina. After all, science is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration. As Wilson struck the boulder for the 8th time, it shattered. He stood the pickaxe up and leaned on it for a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow. Breaking the boulder created a lot of rocks, and to his surprise, he saw gold hiding amongst them. He gleefully picked up as many rocks and gold as he could carry, and started heading back where he came from. He needed to remember this clearing, as he might need more rocks and gold later.

     As Wilson made his way back out of the clearing and out of the wooded area, he looked around. He saw beehives nearby, as well as a few ponds. He must have been lost in thought for quite some time to have missed those. He glanced to his left, and then to his right. On his left, he saw a savanna not too far away. To his right, he saw a deciduous forest. Taking another look in both directions, he headed towards his left, wondering what he might find in the savanna.

     To his surprise, he saw rabbits and rabbit holes. Lots of them. More than he could count. He watched in awe as rabbits scampered about, nibbling on things in the grass, and generally being rather cute. It was then that he realized how hungry he was. He put a hand over his stomach and watched the rabbits. He felt guilty thinking of them as supplies, but the thought of roasted rabbit sounded wonderful right now. He stared at the rabbits, watching them. As he watched, his thoughts raced as he tried to come up with a plan to catch one. Running towards them was obviously a stupid idea, and he doubt he'd be able to catch up to one. He had nothing with which to hit them from a distance, so that was out. The only thing he could think of was a trap.

     He looked over the things he found and deduced that he did not have enough materials to make a trap. There was plenty of tall grass in this savanna though, so he at least had plenty of resources to make one, or more if he needed to. His stomach growled, prompting him to get started.

     He gathered the grass he needed to make a trap for the rabbits. As he gathered the grass, he looked for a good spot to set the trap. He noticed one rabbit hole off to the edge of the savanna, right next to two berry bushes. It looked a good a spot as any. He started making the trap once he gathered the last bit of grass he needed.

     When he finished, he marveled at his trap. He realized how lucky he was that he took a class weaving. Not a skill many have, he thought. Like his pickaxe and axe, this wasn't his best work but it would do for now. He placed the trap over the rabbit hole and waited by the berry bushes, staring at the trap.

     An hour later, he he got up and stretched. Waiting was boring. He remembered the gold he had found and realized he needed some logs. It seemed like a great spot to set up camp, but he wasn't quite ready yet. He started to walk away from the trap to chop down some trees, but stopped and looked back over at the trap. Bait, he thought. That might help. He turned around and walked back to the rap and shoved a carrot underneath it. He paused for a few seconds, and then turned around and started looking for trees to chop down.

     Wilson didn't know how long he had been chopping down trees but it felt like hours. He had chopped down a few trees and made his way back to the trap. It had not been touched. He pouted, but began to set rocks and logs down for a campfire. When the campfire was set up, he started to build a machine. The machine he was aiming to build was a general Science Machine, his own design. He was hoping to get a patent for it but never got around to it. This machine would help him build tools and other things with better quality than he could on his own, which would hopefully increase his chances at survival.

     Eventually he finished building it. He marveled at it for a moment. It looked a little goofy, but it works, so aesthetics aren't that important. That's when he heard a snap followed by muffled squealing. He turned around and saw that the trap was down, and it was moving. Food!

     Wilson walked over to the trap and stopped. He realized that he would have to kill the poor rabbit. He'd never killed anything before, he preferred to experiment on things that weren't alive. He stared at the trap, feeling sad about what he needed to do. He gulped, picked up a rock, and kneeled down by the trap. The rabbit was frantically squealing and trying to get untangled. Wilson whispered “I'm sorry,” and closed his eyes as he beat the trap with the rock. He heard painful squeals, and then silence. Wilson looked back at the trap. It wasn't moving.

     His stomach growled again, and he shook his head. No use dwelling on it, I need food, he thought. He untangled the dead rabbit from the trap, and then gulped again as he began to skin it and clean it. It took all the willpower in him to keep doing it, but his hunger forced him to continue.

     The rabbit was finally ready to be cooked, so he started a fire and tied the rabbit to a stick. Not long later, it finally looked edible. Wilson pulled the rabbit away from the fire and sniffed it. The smell was alluring, and it made him drool. He took a small bite, and nearly started crying as he chewed on the morsel. It was delicious. He ate the rabbit slowly, hoping to savor this holiest of meals.

     As he ate, he watched birds fly by and the clouds roll by in the sky. The sun was going down, and it would be dark soon. When he had eaten every edible part of the rabbit, he licked his fingers. That's when he heard a loud howling in the distance that caused his body to tense up. He immediately stood up and looked around. He couldn't see anything. That's when he heard distant barking. Wilson cowered by the fire. I'm such a fool! He thought. Why did I not prepare for this?

     He had forgotten about the chance of wolves.

    Mr. Trump leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. He had made it, he thought. The Oval Office. President of the United Fuckin' States. He looked around his new office, thinking about all the things he could change about it. Hmm, I'm not sure I like the color, he thought. Maybe I'll paint everything gold. He pressed the buzzer on his phone to call his secretary.

     “Donna, get in here. I need you to make a note for me.” He yelled. He heard a sigh and then a response.

     “You've got paper in there, don't you? Write it yourself!” Donna shouted back. Mr. Trump smiled to himself and again pressed the buzzer.

     “Donna, you're fired.” He leaned back again and continued smiling. Fifth secretary this week. I'll never get tired of that. He enjoyed firing people. He'd try to find the simplest excuse to fire someone just because he liked to hear himself say “You're fired.” In fact, he liked hearing himself speak in general. Mr. Trump opened the drawer of his presidential desk and took out his presidential iPad, the one he awarded himself for being Donald Trump. It had his name engraved on the back, which he was very proud of. He liked seeing his name on things. It reminded him that he's Donald Trump.

     “Siri, search 'Donald Trump'” he yelled into the mic on his iPad. Siri took a moment to reply.

     “Here are the top Google results for 'Donald Trump'”, replied Siri. Mr. Trump scrolled down the list, marveling at his name on the screen. He tapped the link to a Fox News article on his latest bill. He smiled as he read the article.

     Under his new bill, Spanish was made illegal in the United States. Not Spanish Spanish, but Mexican Spanish. There's a difference. “Only Mexicans speak Spanish,” he had said when proposing the bill. “Americans speak American. Under my new bill, Americans will only speak American. It's what will make America great again.”

     “And great it is.” He said aloud to himself. He reached over for his coffee mug that said “#1 Trump” on it. He made it for himself as an award for being the #1 Trump. It was his favorite mug. He took a sip of his Trump™ Coffee, which was selling nicely now that he was president. In fact, all his products were selling nicely. Trump™ Cologne, Trump™ Clothing, Trump™ Rifles, even Trump™ Tacos, which was a surprise. He thought about how his name was on everything. He liked that.

     Suddenly, the door opened. It was his wife, Ivana Trump. She was wearing a dress made from tiger skin. It was his favorite dress of hers. He even tried it on a few times.

     “Donald, I heard you fired Donna.” She said. She looked pleased. Mr. Trump nodded excitedly.

     “Fifth one this week.” He yelled. She smiled.

     “Great job, dear. I'll hire another one for you.” She said, and left the room. Mr. Trump took another sip from his coffee mug. Time to Google myself again.

Dear Marley

    I had to summon a lot of willpower to write you this letter. I wasn't originally going to, but I just wanted to tell someone. Anyone. I know I haven't spoken to you in the past few days, or has it been weeks? I'm not even sure anymore. Anyways, I know I haven't said anything to you in...some time, and I hope you aren't mad at me, I really wanted to talk to you but I just haven't been myself lately. Things haven't been going well for me. I've been seeing my therapist for some time now because of what I've been going through but it's not helping. I don't think he understands me at all. Every time I talk to him and we talk about the things I said I'd do but didn't do, I look at him and all I see is sadness and frustration. We aren't getting anywhere. I'm not getting anywhere. I've been stuck in this fucking house for God knows how long and I've been doing jack shit. Nothing's fun anymore. I wanted to talk to you about these things but I was afraid you wouldn't understand. Nobody understands. Hell, I don't even understand. I just want things to be normal again.

    But they won't be. I can't even go back to work because everyone treats me like I'm a slave. They all look at me like I'm inferior and either don't understand what I've been through or just plain don't care. At this point I don't even think it matters which one is the truth. I'm sick of it, man. Fucking sick of it.

    I've been ignoring you, Marley. And I'm deeply sorry for it. I was afraid. No, terrified. That's a better word. I was terrified. You don't know what it's like, Marley. You don't know what it's like for me. Nobody does. Not even my therapist.

    I don't know what else to say. I guess the only other thing I can say is, thank you. For everything.

I wasn't going to upload this originally but I changed my mind. Fair warning: This isn't a happy story.


a reduction or loss of splendor, status, reputation
I'm probably not going to be paying much attention to deviantART for awhile. I've got some plans I'm trying to set in motion and the only thing keeping me on this site right now are some of my favorite artists. I'll still probably upload stuff from time to time but I'm eventually going to break away from DA at some point. If you want to contact me and still keep in touch, you can find me on Steam or Skype.

Skype: SpykeXD911
  • Mood: Neutral
  • Watching: Markiplier
  • Playing: Planescape: Torment


Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I'm a gaming enthusiast, and I've played many video games and know a lot about video games. Although I mostly play video games, I do also enjoy writing. I previously attempted to do a webcomic series that parodied other webcomics but became frustrated with my lack of drawing skills, and then tried other things on DA before I finally settled on creative writing. I try to update with a new poem, short story, or novel chapter every week if I don't forget or something else takes up my time.

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Thatguy3331 Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2015  Student
Thanks for the Favorites Icon 3D  Man!

Out of curiosity how have things been with you?
TheDreamVista Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2014  Student General Artist
Excuse me, I'm gonna hate you, nor unforgive you for befriending Gligar13Vids, but is there a reason why you're friends with him?
SpykeXD Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Because he's a pretty cool guy, he's tough and doesn't afraid of anything.

In all seriousness though, his YouTube videos are just troll videos. He doesn't take them seriously and it's clear you shouldn't either.
TheDreamVista Featured By Owner Edited May 28, 2015  Student General Artist
Sorry, I mean't to say I'm not gonna hate you nor unforgivable you.
SpykeXD Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
If it means anything, he and I are no longer friends. I got fed up with his bullshit and he started acting like a child when I called CoD casual.
(1 Reply)
TheDreamVista Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2014  Student General Artist
Maybe I shouldn't. No wonder that he gets verbal abused a lot.
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