Sanders Sides Oneshots

Protect

First of all, let us take a moment to acknowledge this ^^^^

OI! YES, YOU! YOU BETTER READ THIS OTHERWISE YOU WON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING THAT'S GOING ON HERE! THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT!

Hey, the shitty author again! I wanted to put a little test run on this story idea I had but I don't have enough spare time to make it, so... Here's a teaser chapter for a story I'd like to make but I really don't have the time to and, despite what I just said, probably will make it. This story is based on the elements the Sides picked in their Q&A, so you can expect that when this book arrives. Also, it's set in a medieval fantasy world. Thomas is a human, with no signifigance that you know of yet, and the others aren't mentioned in this one-shot.

Just so you all know, this is the original idea. I have looked and found no other books that have this idea, this lore or this storyline. This is completely original, to me and me alone. I know this may seem like I'm forcing this upon you and I usually love inspiring others to write but I don't want this storyline to inspire you, Y E T. When the actual book starts getting written, I don't mind if you magpie a few qualities or traits to use in your own work but, until then, please don't use this story. I'm going to include the date here, so that no one can claim they wrote their book before I made this: Tuesday, 19th May 2020.

Thank you for understanding, this is really important to me. Plagiarism isn't the answer, guys. Don't copy someone else's' idea, be inspired and write your own.

So, please enjoy the prologue, and no. I don't know what I'm doing in life, will people stop asking me that?

It was the middle of the night, in a storm: exactly the way all good stories begin. Thomas was in tears as he ran away from the castle behind him. He could feel the fires' heat, smell the suffocating smoke and hear the crackling and crashes and crying. It was almost too much for the young man, who was too scared to look back, in fear of seeing them. They'd come from nowhere and had attacked the humans unprovoked and Thomas didn't want to look back and see someone. No, he was too scared to look back and see he was the only human left alive.

But he looked back anyway. And he watched the city burn down. In the distance, he could see other plumes of smoke, from unfortunate towns and unlucky villages. Thomas was desperate to cry but he had now run out of tears, the hot stains on his cheeks were all that was left. But he gathered himself together. He couldn't stop now. If he stopped, they'd see him and they'd slaughter him. So he took flight.

Thomas ran and ran, coughing regularly as he stumbled away from the castle. He wasn't anyone important when he lived in the castle. He wasn't royalty, or an advisor or a knight or a guard or a mage. He'd been a chef's' apprentice and a very bad one at that. Cooking never fitted with him, he couldn't remember how much flour he needed to weigh, or how hot the fire must be or how to tell the water was boiling. Once, he'd put his hands in to find out.

A loud, dull thud was heard from behind him and he turned around only to see a tower torrent fall down. The stone blocks caved and the fire burst, spitting embers and ash. Thomas screamed with a sob as a flaming pebble flew into his chest, burning a hole in his clothes. The human wailed, finding tears again as he punched fruitlessly at the flames, lunging to the wet grass in his desire to put himself out.

The fire suffocated and he let out a choked sob, resisting the urge to curl up into a ball and cry. Gasping for breath, he let himself shudder as tears racked his body. His family were dead. His friends were gone. He had no way to run any faster and he was tiring already. The smoke was getting to his head and there was a singed hole in his button-up shirt and a tear in his mucky apron. But Thomas wasn't going to die here.

He was not going to be the last human screaming in pain when they found him. He was not going to be the last one to die, leaving his friends unavenged. He wasn't going to let that happen. Thomas forced himself to his feet,  leaning forwards as he gained back his breath. He had a stitch, his hair was wet and it dangled thickly in front of his eyes, his clothes were sodden and heavy.

Thomas moved stiffly at first but he began to pick up speed, jogging, running, sprinting, bolting away. He kept going, despite the pain in his chest and his struggle to breathe. Finally, the heat from the blazing fire was gone, the smoke had left the air and Thomas stumbled onto the ground, rolling onto his back as he let the rain fall onto his face, mingling with the tears. Heavy water droplets fell onto the stinging burn on his chest and he was thankful for the cool rain that soothed it. Thomas glanced down at himself, spread-eagled on the ground, with a shirt burnt open. The burn was red and lumpy, sticking up at an awkward angle. Not the coolest battle scar but Thomas couldn't care at that point. It was sore and he moved to touch it with fleeting adrenaline. It stung his fingertips.

The castle was no more than a roaring bonfire in the distance, the screams had ended long ago. Thomas was left alone with the memories of his friends and family and life. He exhaled loudly, breaking the quiet air around him. Then Thomas started coughing loudly, the smoke still in his lungs. He got up to his knees, hacking and choking on the smoke.

Eventually, his coughing fit stopped and the exhaustion punched him dead in the face. The last human left alive passed out on the ground, vulnerable. The fire continued to burn far away and there was no one left who cared enough to put it out.