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I wrote this story in like an hour and i hate it

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I laid face down in the mud, the ground running slick as the rain continued to pelt the ground and break up the ground, the dirt changing just like my life had when the dark lord Demerakzar the Heinously Diabolical destroyer of whole worlds and dimensions and stuff had decided to destroy my whole village specifically but accidentally spared me when he remembered he’d left the oven on and said that he had spent all the time he could to play with me. So i just laid there wondering about all the things that had precisely gone wrong to bring me to this point in my life, like the time when i was eight years old and i tripped and face down in the grass and all the other kids of the incredibly generic fantasy village laughed at me. “Yeah,” i said out loud to myself as i stood up from my prone position, “i should have seen this coming after that happened.” “What happened here?” a mysterious person who i knew literally nothing about but immediately identified as a mentor like char
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No Title

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Hmmm… Hmmmmmm… … … … Where was i? Well perhaps a better question is where am i? There is nothing around me but bright white that radiates with a formless intensity more akin to the absence of darkness than if there was an actual light shining on the blank expanse. I screamed as loud as i could, trying to elicit some response from the colourless void… but nothing. I could hear my thoughts within my head but not feel any vibrations in my chest or the sound of my shouts and i wondered if it was because i was incapable of making sound or if there was nothing for it to resonate with. I tried flailing my arms but there was no streching of my muscles, no impact when my limbs touched each other and even the sensation of touch was denied to me for i could not feel, my arms just couldn’t move past the point where they intersected. The lack of distinction was maddening, no smell, no sound, no direction, no taste, no touch, no weight, no light, no darkness. The only sensation was the
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Darkov Epilogue

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(Author's note, Darkov is my D&D Character from our last campaign) Darkov leaned against the balcony of the fortified manor overlooking the town of Phandalin, once nothing but a backwater town in the midst of ruins, now it was a prosperous and bustling commercial hub for the traders and merchants thanks to the rediscovered  Forge of Spells. It had not been easy for Darkov to become the Lord of the town, his father had initially refused to even consider it, but unlike the many times before that Darkov had simply submitted to his parent's commands and wishes, this time he had a fire in his spirit and made demands, not requests. The arguments were heated and the night long, but by morning Darkov had left his ancestral home escorted by most of the Castle's Housecarls, and a few compromises.  The land had been once claimed by some old lord long in the past, his bloodline had been weak and faded into the pages of history. So when the flag of the House of Kov flew above t
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Earl

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“Sharon, do you need to feed the animals?” “Oh yeah, I forgot!” I run to my room, put on my working boots and grab my keys. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” My mom nodded and I walked through the murky darkness to my beat up car. The drive to Chloe’s was quick since she only lives across the highway from me. I parked my car in her driveway and pulled out my phone as I turned off the engine.  I only had 6% left, but I thought if I took care of them fast enough, my phone would survive and I’d still be able to use its flashlight instead of hauling around the huge metal one I had in my car. So I got the house key and opened up the house, I fed and medicated the dog, Kennedy, leaving the food bowel outside before locking up the house again. Knowing my battery was barely going to make it, if that, I ran up the hill to the goat pen. I went into the feed house to get his food, and in the back of my of my mind I thought it was kind of weird that I didn’t hear him in his shelter.
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You give Love a bad name.

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"I had no reason to kill Paladin Traven!" The small elf stated firmly, his voice showing obvious signs of panic and confusion as beads of sweat slid down his narrow face. "You have to believe me! I don't remember it all!" The detective sitting across from the table leaned forward, his short dwarven frame counteracted by the fearsome scowl that caused the taller elf to shrink and shake. "We found you holding the sword that killed him." He said in a low feral voice. "And the warlock confirmed you weren't under any spells at the time so, if it wasn't you, how do you explain that?" "I DON'T KNOW!" The elf squeaked. "I don't remember anything before you threw me into the police car!" "He didn't do it" I jumped at the cold feeling of specter passing through my body at materializing beside me. "Why do you say that?" I ask the faint figure standing next to me looking through the one-w
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Short Notice; optional challenge

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This month proved distracting for the Guild. As such, this challenge is optional. Our apologies for any inconvenience. Challenge: Pinterest Prompt Items: Cinnamon  Tea Next Meeting Date: November 5th, 2017. -The Appalachian Writer's Guild Team
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Mornings

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The beeping of my alarm pounded into my skull with horrible uniform. I reached around for the battery operated beast and finally managed to silence its screaming. I sat up groggily, and plodded to my little kitchen to cook a hearty breakfast. And by that I mean toast. I don’t like eating much before working. I sat at my table, fidgeting with a pencil like a baton, writing notes on the scrap sheet of paper in front of me. Deep into intense thought, I twirled the pencil faster. Bang! A sound came from outside my apartment. In start I jerked my head toward my door. Snap! I look down as the broken pieces of my pencil. I sigh and throw away the now useless pieces of wood and grab my notes. I stuff them into my work bag and place all of my other necessities in as well. On top of everything else, the last thing I put in, is my gun. I zip up the bag and head to work.
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Down in New Orleans

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“Your tea sir.” I nod and mutter a quick thanks as the server places the cup and napkin on my table, preoccupied with the stack of papers sitting in front of me. The Raleigh to Washington line requested a new engine as detailed in the specifications in front of me, a letter from the Railway board requesting my opinion on the new Diesel locomotive technology, a slight tinge of concern at some of the success it's been having in Europe. Is it the future? Will my beloved Steam Engines one day be obsolete? I set down the folder and pick up my cup, the cool perspiration a welcome feeling in the steamy Louisiana heat. The cool brown liquid inside is refreshing and sweet, and for just a moment as the blend of tea, cane sugar, and ice cold water fills my taste buds I am transported away from the oppressive temperature and consider the good of this city. New Orleans, wealthiest city in the South. And looking at the cars driving by you could see it, well-dressed ladies and silk-suite
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