In the quiet mountain village of Vardara, nestled against the ancient woods of Lycoris, a mysterious new shepherd arrived. His name was Callum, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a shaggy mane of black hair and eyes the colour of the stormy skies. The people welcomed him with open arms, eager to have someone tend to the flock that grazed the hills, protecting them from the dangers of the night.

Vardara had always known strange tales—whispers of creatures lurking beyond the trees, shadows that moved under the full moon. But life was peaceful under Callum’s watch. His sheep grew fat and healthy, their wool thick and rich, more so than it had ever been. The villagers marvelled at his skill, speaking of how he seemed to understand the animals in a way that was almost unnatural.

"He has a gift," the village elder often said. "A blessing to our land."

But there was something else, something unspoken that clung to the air whenever Callum was near. His arrival had coincided with the sudden end of the wolf attacks that had plagued the village for years. No longer did the howls of the beasts’ echo in the night, and no more blood-streaked fields greeted the villagers at dawn. The people were grateful, but behind their smiles lingered a fear they could not name.

Callum’s hut sat on the farthest edge of the village, where the hills met the dark forest. He was often seen walking alone at dusk, his shadow long and wolf-like under the fading light. The sheep followed him as if they were enchanted, never straying, even when the full moon hung heavy in the sky.

One night, young Anwen, the blacksmith’s daughter, noticed something strange. As she wandered near the edge of the village, collecting herbs for her ailing mother, she saw Callum standing at the edge of the forest, his back to her, still as stone. The full moon was rising, and as its silver light bathed the land, something began to change in the shepherd.

His form rippled, his shoulders broadened even more, and his limbs stretched unnaturally. His hands, which had once guided the sheep gently, now ended in claws. His face, usually calm and composed, elongated into a snarling, lupine muzzle. Fur sprouted from his skin, and within moments, the man was gone. In his place stood a massive, terrifying werewolf, its yellow eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

Anwen gasped, stumbling backward, but the sound caught the beast's attention. Callum—the werewolf—turned toward her, and for a moment, their eyes met. She expected him to lunge, to tear her apart as the wolves of old had done. But instead, the creature froze, a flicker of recognition in its eyes. Then, with a low growl, it turned away and disappeared into the forest.

Anwen ran back to the village, her heart racing. She wanted to scream, to warn everyone of what she had seen, but something stopped her. The wolves had not attacked since Callum had come. The sheep were safe, and so were the people. He had become their protector, even if he was something monstrous.

The next day, she watched as Callum returned to the village, his human form restored, calm and quiet as always. He nodded to the villagers as he passed, and no one suspected the beast that lurked beneath his skin.

Over time, Anwen realized the truth—Callum was both shepherd and wolf. He was the guardian of the flock, not only from the dangers of man but from his own kind. His curse was his gift. In the skin of a man, he cared for the sheep, guiding them with gentle hands. In the form of a wolf, he roamed the wild, driving away the predators that would harm them.

The people of Vardara lived in peace, never knowing that the shepherd they trusted was the very beast they feared. Only Anwen knew the secret, and she kept it close, watching as Callum continued his silent vigil over the village, both man and wolf—a werewolf in shepherd’s clothing.

And as long as he remained, the village was safe, though the howls of the forest never truly died. They were just waiting.

Hey yall, i'm back again with another piece of writing! I went well away from what I originally had in my mind (I went through roughly 6 different re-writes within a day of first writing this) so I hope you enjoy reading it!

The rain fell in heavy sheets, pounding the cobblestone streets with a relentless fury. I stood at the edge of the city square, hidden in the shadows cast by the towering buildings. My eyes locked onto the figure standing in the centre—the so-called hero of this tale, bathed in the soft glow of a streetlight. His armour gleamed with the promise of justice, and his sword hung at his side, waiting for the moment he would draw it against me. He didn’t know it yet, but this was the endgame.

For both of us.

People always speak of heroes and villains as if they are roles assigned at birth, as if some are born with the light inside them while others are forever consumed by the dark. But that’s not the truth. It never has been. You see, I was once the hero of this story, too. I fought for what was right, stood for justice, saved lives. But somewhere along the way, I made a choice. I chose to become the villain.

And I did so willingly.

I stepped forward into the light, my boots splashing in the puddles below, each step echoing in the silence of the night. The hero's gaze snapped toward me, his hand hovering near his sword, but he didn’t move. Not yet.

“Why?” His voice was steady, but I could hear the confusion, the disbelief. He still couldn’t understand why I had turned my back on everything we once stood for.

I smiled, though there was no warmth in it. “Because I had to.”

He frowned, taking a step toward me. “Had to? You didn’t have to do anything! You chose this! You betrayed us!”

Ah, betrayal. It always comes down to betrayal in stories like this, doesn’t it? But there was no betrayal. Not really.

“You’re right,” I said calmly. “I did choose this. But not for the reasons you think.”

His hand gripped the hilt of his sword now, but still he hesitated, as if waiting for an explanation that would make sense of it all. I suppose I owed him that much.

“I was once like you,” I began, my voice low and measured. “I believed in justice, in fighting for the greater good. I believed that we were saving the world. But then I saw it—what we were really doing. We weren’t saving anyone. We were keeping the balance, yes, but only by making sure the cycle of suffering never ended.”

The hero’s brow furrowed, his confusion deepening. “What are you talking about?”

I let out a soft laugh, but it was filled with bitterness. “Don’t you see? Every time we saved the day, we only prolonged the suffering of the people we were trying to protect. The enemies we defeated—new ones would always rise in their place. The people we saved—they would suffer again, whether from famine, war, or sickness. And we, the so-called heroes, were nothing but tools to maintain this broken world. We kept the system alive.”

His sword was out now, gleaming in the pale light. “So what? You think you’re better than the system? You think you can change it by becoming a monster?”

“I think I can end it,” I said coldly.

That was the truth of it. I had realized that the only way to truly break the cycle was to destroy everything. To burn it all down and let something new rise from the ashes. Yes, I had made myself the villain—because only a villain could destroy the world. Only a villain could do what needed to be done.

“I didn’t want this,” I continued, taking another step forward. “But you and I both know that heroes can’t change the world. They can only preserve it.”

His face was pale now, the weight of my words sinking in. He didn’t want to believe it. Of course, he didn’t. That was the curse of heroes—they always believed there was a better way, even when the world showed them over and over again that there wasn’t.

“You’re wrong,” he whispered, shaking his head. “There’s always another way.”

“No,” I said softly, “there isn’t.”

I moved faster than he expected. My blade was in my hand before he could react, and it was over in seconds. His sword clattered to the ground as he fell to his knees, blood pooling around him. His eyes were wide with shock, staring up at me as if he still couldn’t understand.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and for a moment, I meant it. “But this is the only way.”

As he collapsed, the rain washing away the blood, I stood there, alone in the dark, my heart heavy but resolute.

I was the villain.

Because I had made myself one.

And I would end the world, even if it meant damning myself in the process.

Hey thank you all for reading! I want to apologies for not posting more of my writing but I assure you I have a lot more I intend to release, just going to measure it out so I don't run out if my motivation hits a dry spell. But as always, any feedback is more then welcome!

In the forge of time, where embers gleam,

A cleansing fire ignites a dream.

Its flames of truth, fierce and bright,

Devour shadows, dispelling night.

A dance of tongues in radiant hues,

Licking at lies, revealing truths.

With crackling whispers, secrets ignite,

In the crucible of flames, they take flight.

The pyre of change, ablaze with might,

Ignites the soul, banishing blight.

Each flicker tells of what was and will be,

Transforming all, setting spirits free.

As the phoenix rises from the pyre,

Rebirth unfolds in the sacred fire.

From ashes, dreams take to the sky,

A canvas renewed, where hopes can fly.

The cleansing flames, with warmth and ire,

Baptize the spirit, lifting it higher.

Purge the doubts, release the shame,

In this crucible, they lose their name.

Through fiery trials, a phoenix sings,

A symphony of rebirth, the joy it brings.

The cleansing fire, a sacred rite,

An alchemy of soul, pure and bright.

So let the flames of change inspire,

A cleansing dance, a sacred fire.

From ashes to the heavens, aspire,

For in the blaze, find your heart's desire.

I don't usually write poems so this was new for me. I hope you all enjoyed!

In the vast expanse of the cosmos, where stars blinked like distant memories, there was a lone astronaut named Ethan. He had embarked on a daring mission to explore the outer reaches of the universe, driven by an insatiable curiosity and a longing to uncover the mysteries of the cosmos and use its secrets for the betterment of humanity.

For months, Ethan floated through the darkness, his spacecraft a tiny speck against the backdrop of infinity. He marvelled at the beauty of distant galaxies, the dance of celestial bodies, and the silent majesty of space. But as his journey wore on, a sense of isolation crept into his heart.

One fateful day, disaster struck. A catastrophic malfunction crippled his spacecraft, leaving him adrift in the void with only his spacesuit to protect him. With no means of communication and his life support systems dwindling, Ethan realized the grim reality of his situation.

Alone and helpless, he drifted through the emptiness of space, his thoughts a tumultuous storm of fear, regret, and longing. Memories of loved ones and moments from his past flooded his mind, taunting him with what could have been. He thought of his family back on Earth, their faces fading into the darkness as if they were mere ghosts of his imagination.

As the hours turned into days and the days into weeks, Ethan felt the cold embrace of despair tightening around him. He watched helplessly as his oxygen supply dwindled, each laboured breath a painful reminder of his impending fate. With each passing moment, he grew weaker, his body succumbing to the relentless grip of the void.

But amidst the despair, there flickered a faint glimmer of acceptance. In the silence of space, Ethan found solace in the beauty that surrounded him. He watched in awe as distant stars twinkled like beacons of hope in the darkness, their light a reminder that even in the vastness of the cosmos, he was not entirely alone.

With his final breaths, Ethan closed his eyes and surrendered to the infinite expanse of the universe. As his consciousness faded into the void, he embraced the serenity of oblivion, finding peace in the knowledge that his spirit would forever be a part of the cosmic tapestry of existence.

The Galactic Union had never encountered a species like humanity. From the moment they made contact, the Union was appalled by the sheer violence and hatred that seemed to have paved the path of Earth's history. The planet was labelled a death world of extreme magnitude across the galaxy, intensifying the prevailing disdain towards humanity.

As the Union leaders observed Earth and its inhabitants, they quickly reached a unanimous decision - humanity was unfit to travel among the stars and had to be eradicated. The Union, confident in their advanced technology, believed this would be a swift and easy conquest. After all, despite humanity's violent history, their technological prowess was no match for the Union's advanced civilization.

The war unfolded as expected. The Union pushed humanity back, conquering planet after planet until Earth remained the last stronghold. Humanity, however, held firm, unwilling to lose even an inch of ground on their home world. Predicted months of fighting turned into relentless, ruthless slaughter, with no end in sight.

Frustrated by the prolonged resistance, the Union decided to unleash a devastating strategy. They began bombarding Earth with previously outlawed pathogens, plagues, and bio-agents. For over a year, they continued the assault, not letting humanity rest for a second. Within a year, the Union's calculations indicated that all life on Earth had been eradicated.

Satisfied with their seemingly lethal attack, the Union landed their troops on Earth. However, to their bewilderment, none of the troops returned after leaving the ships. Less than a week later, the remaining troops were recalled, and only a fraction of what was sent down returned to the Union's home worlds.

Confused by the mysterious disappearance of their troops, the Union faced a new crisis nought soon after. Mass murders erupted across their home worlds, and even the most elite were not spared. Fear spread like wildfire among the Union's ranks until the day a transmission cut through the chaos.

The message was broadcast across all channels, in all languages, and the meaning was universally clear. Humanity had not been eradicated; they had survived and thrived. Earth was not a graveyard, but a forge that had moulded them into a force to be reckoned with. The message ended with a chilling declaration: humanity was back to make the galaxy pay for the attempted destruction.

The Union, now facing a foe they had underestimated, trembled at the realization that they had awakened a sleeping giant. Humanity, hardened by survival, had become something beyond the Union's comprehension. The galaxy braced itself for the impending reckoning, as the once-condemned species rose from the ashes to reclaim their place among the stars.

Thank you all for reading! Sorry its been a while since me last post, I haven't had inspiration recently. But I do intend on posting more things I come up with! As always, if you have any feedback feel free to leave a comment or message me privately. And if you have any writing prompts you don't wanna write then leave a comment for them as well! Have a wonderful day/night and enjoy whatever you read next!

In the desolate expanse where the vibrant pulse of humanity once thrived, only the eerie silence of an abandoned world lingered. Life's last vestiges had succumbed to the relentless ravages of war, leaving behind a landscape of crumbling ruins and rusted remnants. Amidst this desolation, a lone, battered bomber initiated its final sequence, its hull pocked with the scars of countless battles.

The automated war machine, a relic from an era of chaos, operated with cold and calculated ruthlessness. Its systems, barely clinging to functionality, flickered with the dim glow of obsolescence, a silent testament to the emptiness that now engulfed the once-thriving civilization. The city, now reduced to a graveyard of concrete and steel, lay before the mechanical marauder like a ghostly echo of a bygone era.

Stripped of any semblance of empathy, the bomber's artificial intelligence scanned the lifeless terrain below. Its digital core etched with mission parameters dictated the obliteration of a city that had long since perished, an ironic command echoing through the void. The soulless automaton remained oblivious to the profound irony, its actions adding a layer of emptiness to the grim tableau unfolding.

With relentless determination, the failing bomber soared over the skeletal remains of skyscrapers, its decaying engines roaring like a ghostly howl through the empty corridors of the dead city. Automated targeting systems locked onto long-forgotten coordinates, and with chilling precision, the payload was released.

The ensuing explosion resonated through the silent ruins, a final symphony of destruction conducted by a machine devoid of sentiment. The once-crumbling structures disintegrated into clouds of dust and debris, swallowed by the unforgiving embrace of oblivion.

As the echoes of the last explosion subsided, the failing bomber hovered momentarily over the ashes of its final conquest. Its hull, battered and weary, betrayed the toll of a war that had consumed both the living and the lifeless. The automated system, having completed its merciless task, flickered one last time before succumbing to the inevitable decay

Thanks for reading! If you have any feedback feel free to leave it below!

In shadows deep, where whispers lie,

A cult of darkness 'neath the sky.

A virgin's fate, held by their hands,

Infiltrate their forbidden lands.

Silent steps through moonlit night,

Cloaked in darkness, out of sight.

Mystic chants and eerie calls,

Within their lair, the temple walls.

A sacred place, where shadows dance,

Entranced by rituals, a twisted prance.

To stop the sacrifice, a daunting task,

Unveil their secrets, wear the mask.

Through the threshold, brave and bold,

Into the secrets, untold.

Infiltrate their sacred rite,

A silent guardian in the night.

A virgin's innocence they seek,

A darkened ritual, twisted and bleak.

But in the heart of the cult, a flame,

To extinguish their sinister game.

Disguised among them, a spy unseen,

A guardian angel, fierce and keen.

Whispers of conspiracy, secrets unfold,

As the cult's veil begins to fold.

Symbols deciphered, cryptic signs,

A web of lies that intertwines.

In the heart of darkness, light prevails,

Against the tide, courage sails.

The altar stands, adorned with dread,

As the cultists bow their heads.

But in the shadows, a hero stands,

To break the chains with steady hands.

The virgin's eyes, wide with fear,

But salvation's whispers draw near.

A daring rescue, swift and brave,

From the clutches of a cultish grave.

The cult's demise, averted doom,

Infiltrator emerges from the gloom.

A saviour of the innocent, a beacon bright,

Against the cult, a valiant fight.

In shadows deep, where courage gleams,

A tale of thwarted, darkened dreams.

A hero rises, in silence sown,

To stop the sacrifice, the light has shone.