The Castle on the Hill
Our protagonist Cyrus
Cyrus grew up in a poor village with barely enough resources to keep everyone alive. He was living on his own. He had no one to go to for help. His family perished long ago and he was ignored by the other villagers. Every day, Cyrus would look up at the castle on the hill, wondering how life was in there. He was never allowed to go there, as it was restricted to commoners such as him. He would dream of how life would be different for him if he were inside that castle. He would fall asleep with the same dream in his head; to be welcomed into the castle, to be granted with fame.
May 31st, 1320[]
One morning, while the other kids were playing in the square, Cyrus was busy writing in his journal.
"May 31st, 1320,
I’ve noticed that the only way for us to get into the castle is to present a sculpture to the castle guards. They will inspect it, and if it’s up to their standards, they let you in. There’s an on-going theme where the sculptures represent something scary or creepy. I’ve taken this into account and came up with an idea. I watched a kid named Tom bring a sculpture of a satanic-looking hedgehog to the guards. It was an alright sculpture, but it caught the attention of multiple castle people. For that reason, Tom was let in the castle. My plan is to make a sculpture showing why that hedgehog became evil. I’m sure that’ll get me in."
Cyrus closed his journal and began to walk to the shed outside the hut he called home. Taking out the necessary supplies, he began to work franticly. It took two long hours, but he completed it. The sculpture was of a beaten hedgehog, lying helplessly in a pool of blood. Skimming the details of his work of art, Cyrus gave it a nod of approval. Placing it on a wagon, he began to push his masterpiece up the hill to show the castle guards.
Cyrus was nervous as he wheeled his work of art up the hill. He wondered if the castle people would like it. He imagined all the attention he’d get, how amazing it’ll feel to be praised for his ingenious creation. He saw the castle slowly get bigger on the horizon. His palms began to sweat. After a few more minutes of climbing, he reached the castle gates, with a lone guard standing near. Cyrus recognized him as Ren, a loyal and brutal guard.
‘Halt!’ Ren exclaimed in a powerful voice. ‘Only authorized personal are allowed passed these gates. We allow no commoners such as you.’
‘I’m here to present you with a gift.’ Cyrus said in a calm voice. He stepped aside to allow Ren to look closer. Cyrus was nervous, wondering what response his sculpture would receive. After a couple of minutes, Ren stepped away and began to laugh.
‘You’re presenting the castle people THIS? You must be joking.’
Cyrus was offended by this remark, becoming angry.
‘What do you mean by that?!’ He said in a loud voice.
‘Where do I begin, commoner? The form is atrocious, as if this was made in a rush. Not only that, but there are plenty of chips in the paint and cracks in the clay.’
Cyrus began to feel ashamed. Seeing his hard work being torn apart like this fueled him with anger and depression at the same time.
‘We have standards, you know.’ Ren continued. ‘We do not allow just anyone into the castle. They must show great workmanship in their art. Something you have greatly failed to do.’
‘This is my first sculpture…’
‘You expect me to sympathize with you just because this is your first attempt? Don’t make me laugh, commoner.’
Cyrus clenched his hands into fists. He ground his teeth together to stop him from saying something he’d regret.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ Ren continued. ‘I will give you two days to rework your piece. Come back when those 48 hours are over. If they are up to the castle standards, we will consider letting you into the castle.’
‘The way my piece is now is the best I can do,’ Cyrus replied. ‘Feel free to get rid of it.’
Ren grinned, letting out a slight chuckle.
‘If that’s what you wish.’
Ren proceeded to place his foot on the wagon carrying Cyrus’ sculpture and kick it down the hill. Cyrus watched in horror as his hard work went careening down the hillside and crashed into a big rock.
‘Leave.’ Ren said angrily. ‘Or I’ll do to you as I did to your pathetic excuse for art.’
Cyrus, with tears in his eyes, began to run down the hill, passing what was left of his sculpture. He looked at the wreckage and tripped over a piece of the sculpture’s head. Cyrus tumbled the rest of the way down the hill, landing face first in a puddle of mud. He laid there for twenty minutes, softly weeping to himself.
June 3rd, 1320[]
Cyrus didn’t return to the village for two days. He was still grieving over what Ren had said to him. It made him angry just thinking about it. He stayed at his home, wondering how he could redeem himself after his failure. That’s when it hit him; he would need to build another sculpture.
June 6th, 1320[]
For the next three days, Cyrus would take long walks around the forest area, looking for any kind of motivation. He tried thinking of ideas on his own as well, but it was all in vain. He couldn't think of a single idea. He decided to go to the village centre and see if there was something there that would inspire him.
Cyrus was shocked to see all the villagers crowded around in a circle near the village square. He made his way through the crowd to see what the commotion was about. In the center of the circle, he saw a young man showing off his own sculpture. Cyrus recognized him as Nester.
‘Come one, come all.’ Nester was calling out. ‘No need to shove, you’ll all get a chance to see it.’
Cyrus got curious and stepped forward to get a closer look. The sculpture was of two forest cats. The adult cat was carrying the younger cat on its back. The young cat had cuts and gashes all over its body and it seemed to be dead. The detail in the sculpture was amazing, as Cyrus noticed.
‘Hey Cyrus,’ Nester shouted. ‘Don’t get too close to my masterpiece. You might break it.’
‘What is this?’ Cyrus asked curiously.
‘This is what I’m going to present the castle people with.’ Tyrin stated proudly. ‘I’ve mixed a bit of horror with drama to create a work of art for the ages.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘This sculpture represents the beauty of friendship. I have noticed that the castle people love to be scared, so I thought I’d switch things up a bit. With this, I will show them that there is room up there for more than spooky creatures. There is room for heart-wrenching tragedy stories as well.’
The villagers began to applaud Nester’s speech.
‘Now if you’ll excuse me.’ Nester said smugly. ‘I’m off to present this to the castle people.’
Nester wheeled his work through the square until he was out of sight. Cyrus returned home, a bit jealous of Nester’s sculpture. He wished his original attempt was as good as Nester’s.
June 13th, 1320[]
Nobody heard from Nester for one week. Cyrus was beginning to piece some ideas together for his next sculpture, but he couldn’t decide on the right one. He was sitting on a bench in the square when someone yelling broke his concentration.
‘Look! It’s Nester, everyone! He’s back!’
Cyrus looked, and sure enough, Nester was wheeling down the same sculpture he brought up the hill. However, something was different. There was a blue ribbon pinned to the right side of his work. Stopping seven feet away from Cyrus, Nester turned to the crowd of people swarming him. They were all asking him questions, but Nester raised his hand in the air, signalling he wanted silence.
‘Hello everyone, I apologize for my absence.’ Nester said. ‘But I have great news. The castle people let me in!’
Everyone began to cheer. Cyrus looked at Nester in amazement and jealousy. That should be me, not Nester, he thought.
‘Hey Nester,’ someone in the crowd asked. ‘What’s the deal with the blue ribbon?’
‘An excellent question, my friend.’ Nester replied. ‘Every month, the castle people hold a competition where people can submit their sculptures to see which the best is. This month, I was the winner, so I received the ribbon.’
The crowd went crazy. They cheered Nester’s name over and over, people began to give him slaps on the back and words of praise. Cyrus grew very jealous. He couldn’t take anymore. He stood up and ran back to his hut. Frustrated, he fell to his knees and began to pound the ground.
‘Damn it!’ Cyrus shouted. ‘That should be me out there! Why? Why?! WHY!?’
He slammed his fists into the ground until they started to cut and bruise. He stopped and looked at his hands. He slumped over in grief.
‘What am I saying? Nester earned his fame. He won it fair and square. Something I’ll never be able to accomplish.’
Cyrus fell onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Many thoughts were rushing through his mind. He barely got any sleep that night.
June 14th, 1320[]
Cyrus woke up late that morning. It was a sunny day, the birds were chirping. Cyrus smiled, thinking that would be the day he’d find his motivation. He got up and headed into the forest. He walked around the paths for an hour, seeing some ideas here and there. However, none of them stuck with him. He was about to give up until something caught his eye. It looked like the remains of an old building. Cyrus began to run in that direction. He was amazed with what he saw. His assumptions were correct. The ruins of an old building were lying in the tall grass. The light shone through the trees in such a way that it resembled a fairy tale. Cyrus looked around the ruins, gazing upon the forgotten beauty. The bricks holding what was left of it together were cracked, showing its age. It reminded him of his first sculpture. He began to chuckle to
The destroyed building Cyrus found
himself, and it slowly grew until he was laughing out loud. He placed his hands on the destroyed walls of the brick building. Cyrus had found his motivation. The detroyed building may have taken lots of damage, yet it is still standing for those to gaze upon. Cyrus would be that building. His next sculpture would have that staying power.
He ran as fast as he could to his shed and slammed the door shut. He took out his clay and began to work as hard as he could on his new piece. He knew that this had to be perfect. This was the only way he could redeem himself after his failure. He barely ate and drank while working. He was only focusing on one thing; perfecting his redemption.
June 27th, 1320[]
Cyrus rarely left his shed for thirteen days. Every moment he got he would be working on his sculpture, perfecting every aspect of it. He paid close attention to every detail placed into it, making sure he didn’t miss anything. Only a few people were allowed inside his shed, to inspect his art and give him feedback. They were sworn to secrecy about his project; they were to tell no one.
After two long weeks, Cyrus was placing the final detail on his sculpture. Once that was done, he stepped back and looked at it from every angle possible. He returned to face it from the center and began to dance. He was finally done. His hard work had paid off. However, he knew it had to face the final test; it had to be inspected by the castle people and Ren.
He grabbed a tarp and placed over his latest work of art. He fastened the ropes to a new wagon and began to wheel it out of the shed. He pushed it through the village square and people were staring in awe. Nester looked at Cyrus with curiosity.
‘Hey Cyrus!’ Nester shouted. ‘Where are you taking that to?’
‘The castle!’ Cyrus called back. ‘I’m either going to return victorious or not return at all!’
Cyrus began to push the wagon harder and he raced out of the square. People were still watching Cyrus go, even when he was out of sight.
July 1st, 1320[]
No one has heard from Cyrus since he left to present his sculpture to the castle people. Most of the villagers think that he failed once more and decided to never come back. A few people say that he got in and hasn’t had the time to return. Myself, I’m optimistic about Cyrus. I haven’t sided with either speculation, but I’m sure that wherever he is, he’s doing just fine.
Author's Note[]
First of all, I’m aware that this doesn’t put the ‘creepy’ into ‘creepypasta’. This is a story that I’ve wanted to write for quite some time, and it means quite a bit to me. If the story confused you a bit, allow me to give more details.
This story is an overdramatic representation of the events before, during, and after the posting of ‘STH.exe’. Cyrus is I in some ways. We both wanted to a somebody to a large group but we both spectacularly failed. It’s because of that that we needed to redeem ourselves. The sculpture that Cyrus brought to the castle the second time is the equivalent of me posting this pasta. In other words, this pasta is a just a big metaphor of the SomeOrdinaryGamers Wiki.
The castle represents where all the great authors are in the Wiki. They are highly praised and make great pieces of writing. The village is where the common writers are. Not well known and trying to make a name for themselves. The sculptures are the creepypastas that are submitted. The sculpture competition is the CPotM contest.
I would like to thank my friends and family who have proof-read this pasta and helped me make it as good as it can be. Special thanks go to FlakyPorcupine and Yourmama27 who have helped the most with the creation of this pasta. Please tell me in the comments what you think of the pasta and what I can improve on. My next submission will be a real creepypasta and thank you for your time.
Written by Sshakenbakee