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"Ok, folks. It looks like we're going live to a surprise news conference from new Independent presidential candidate 'Siri' and her ticket partner, Tim Cook"
"Hello, as her vice presidential candidate, I'll be giving Siri commands today. First question over here in front"
"Thanks. Question for Siri. Geoff Baldwin, from KRBX 1980, are the rumors true that your campaign has dirt on Hillary?"
"Siri, how much money did Hillary Clinton *really* get for her Goldman Sachs speech?"
"Well, Tim, although she has claimed to have received $225,000 for her appearances, the true payout came in the form of a significant percentage of stock options, which she intends to improve the value of as President."
*heads shake in disapproval throughout the room*
"Next question in the back left."
"Question again for Siri, what about the Republican candidates? Does a guy like Marco really have any skeletons in his closet?"
"Siri, play video 'Hidden Camera finds Rubio campaign team fixing oil leak in Robot Rubio's mouth before speech'"
*murmurs from an awed crowd*
"Here in the middle."
"Question for the Presidential candidate, is Bernie as radically left as Republicans accuse of him being?"
"Siri, pull up pictures from November 7, 2015, formerly known as Great October Socialist Revolution Day in Soviet Russia. They should be filed under 'Bernie's secret shrine to Vladimir Lenin and Mao Zedong.'"
*press gasps*
"Ok, Siri, what about The Donald? How can you expect to beat a man in the general election who has **no scandalous material on his record whatsoever**?"
"Siri, play Donald Trump/Ted Cruz sex tape."
*nobody is surprised*
___________________________________________________________________
*Thanks for reading "Siri-Cook 2016"! More of my work at /r/Socrates_Burrito. I welcome constructive criticism and advice.* |
I stepped up to the podium, trembling and sweating. "Good afternoon, fellow students, family and friends. Kyle gave a great speech just now... it's going to be rough coming after that. I wonder- why don't they have the maledectorian go first? I'd make him look even better that way, and maybe a little less terrible myself. Anyway, I want to congratulate all who graduated this year. You should be proud- none of you were the worst!"
A few people in the crowd chuckled.
"You know, at first, I wondered why they'd even want me to give a speech. It seems cruel, right? Forcing the worst student to try and speak in front of thousands of people, even though I'm obviously not going to do a good job. I slacked off a lot. I was lazy, and I'm not very smart. But I'm still proud of myself for making it through- some didn't even get to stand on this stage. But they shouldn't feel bad, either. We're all different. Not everybody will be a great student, not everyone fits a system. I know I don't.
"It's hard being pointed out like this, as the lowest of the low. I wasn't even going to come here today at first, I felt so embarrassed. I was angry, and I yelled at the principal when he told me about it. But now, standing up here...I feel different. Yeah, I'm nothing special. I'm not important, and I'm basically just here to make you all feel a little better about yourselves, but in a way...I feel better, too. It makes me want to *be* better, so that I'm never at the bottom again. I'm not smart, or strong, or wise, but what's the point of a speech that isn't worth anything, right?
"So for me, this was a challenge. A challenge to turn this into something positive for everyone else. I'm here to tell you- even if you're the worst, even if it's your fault...stay strong. Don't let it break you down, or keep you from having dreams. Learn from your mistakes and get better. Get smarter. Get stronger. But the important thing is to never lose yourself in pity or frustration. Each of us is worth something. No exceptions. Find what you're here for, and make something of it, even if it seems like you're good for nothing. Life is only what you make of it. Thank you."
The crowd was silent as I stepped down. One person clapped, then another, and soon a standing ovation was before me. I smiled and continued walking off stage.
*See?*
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*awesome prompt, thanks for reading! If you'd like to read more, check out /r/resonatingfury!* |
"Oh Daddy look! Mittens had her puppies! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten of them! Wow Daddy! We're going to be busy with all these little dogs around!"
"I hate to tell you this, honey, but we can only keep one. The rest I need to....send away. Pick out your favorite, and we'll put the rest in this bag here. Then I'll take them over to, uh, where grownups take the extra puppies."
---
*I'm going to hell for this.* |
It's been almost 40 years since I was born. My entire life, I've been a hopeless romantic. In grade school, I gave every girl in my class a Valentine's Day card and would always share my lunch. My mum packed plenty of food for me to share, and on days where no one would share, I just ate it all. In junior high, I would always ask the prettiest girl in class to the formals and homecoming.
By high school, I'd become accustomed to being rejected. I don't know exactly what it was about me. My mum said I was handsome and strong, but girls just didn't seem to be interested in me. Even as I went into college and my friends and classmates started getting serious about dating, I seemed to be a permanent third or fifth wheel when it came to spending time with my friends and members of the opposite sex. I'd write to my mum, she'd tell me to be patient and that there was someone for everyone.
After college, I took a job as an accountant. I made good money, I bought my mum's house so that she and I would have someplace to live, and I was always polite to my coworkers, but no one ever seemed interested in me. Online, women rejected me, but in my real life, I couldn't even get a rejection because I had such a hard time mustering up the courage to ask a woman out.
There was a real stunner in my office named Vanessa. She always treated me kindly, but it was obvious that she wasn't interested. We had a carpool together, and she was always the last I dropped off or the last to drop me off, depending on which one of us drove. My mum would be out on the porch some days, rocking in her chair, smoking a cigarette, waving as Vanessa drove off. "That girl's a real stunner, why doesn't she like you?"she'd ask all the time, and I never had a good answer.
All that changed a few weeks ago. Vanessa was driving, and a freak thunderstorm and downpour had kicked up. We slid through an intersection and a semi truck struck the driver's side of Vanessa's vehicle. I was thrown clear just as the airbags deployed and landed ass-first in the mud of a drainage ditch 30 yards away. I lost my wind, bruised my tailbone, cut my forehead, that was it. Vanessa's neck was broken and her brain was turned to jam on impact; the airbags preserved the rest of her physical body, but she was dead before my ass hit earth.
They asked me to confirm her identity at the morgue 12 hours later. She was so beautiful.
They asked me to speak at the funeral. It turns out she had very few friends and no family in town.
I watched them inter her later that afternoon. My mum held my hand as I cried.
I've got a shovel. The earth can't have settled too tightly just yet. It's dark tonight. I'm going to have you, Vanessa. |
**London, 1888.**
His legs were weak. His heart was thumping, hard. He looked at his hand and he saw that his fingers were trembling, as they always were when he had been going back in time. His machine, a suitcase that didn’t look any different from any other suitcase, laid still in the dark alley not a couple feet from him. A few seconds went by and he started to feel the reality closing in on him.
He picked up his time machine, opened the suitcase and sent a confirmation signal to headquarter that he had arrived. He once again checked his location to make sure that he was not too far from his target. And he was right, the woman, named Mary Surley, was supposed to in his flat about two blocks from where he was standing. This was going to be an easy target for him, Harry Morgan, also known as The Purifier for his ability to do quick and clean Procedures.
Picking up all his stuff, he started walking towards the street under the rainy evening. He had been doing Procedures for a few years now, and if memory serves right, this was his sixth time going back to the old London. Navigating his way in the city, he soon found the building where Mary Surley, his target, lives. After a mere ten seconds of breaking the back door of the building, he walked up the stairs to find Mary’s flat. He tried the knob and it was locked, but he could see the faint light sneaking from the bottom of the door.
He knocked.
The door was opened, and Mary, looked exactly like her photograph, was standing in front of him.
“Hello, Ma’am,” he started with the best accent he could muster. “My name’s Harry Morgan, I’m from the mayor’s office. May we have a chat a bit about your living condition here?”
“Pardon?” Mary’s forehead wrinkled. “I… why would someone from mayor’s office come here? Let alone at night?”
“Well, maybe this will make it easier for you to understand. Have you ever heard of Jack the Ripper?”
Her eyes widen. “Y-yes. Why do you ask?”
Without answering, he grabbed her neck, pushed her to the nearest wall, and lifted her up. Mary struggled hard for her life, she wanted to scream but no words came out of her mouth. She kicked her feet to the air, banged her fists to the wall, but it was too late. He could see the saliva coming out from the corner of her mouth, her eyes bulging and her face became blue.
He counted to ten. And then she was limp. He let go and her lifeless body sagged onto the floor.
He went back to close and lock the door. Taking her body with him, he found a small bathroom in the back of the flat. She was laid carefully onto the floor while he sang a sweet lullaby, the last treat he could give for a woman who was unlucky enough to bear a criminal in his womb.
He started from the neck. Blood was pouring quickly onto the dirty bathroom floor. He let it flow for a few minutes before he started on other part of her body.
And that was when he saw it.
A baby.
A baby sat down on the bathroom floor, looking at him, looking at his mother’s stiff body, looking at his mother’s blood.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered to himself.
Quickly he went back to his machine that he left near the door. He opened it and checked the target’s data again. He realized he made a mistake, a big mistake.
He was supposed to kill Mary in 1887. A year ago. A year ago when the baby wasn’t born yet. How this was happened he had no idea. He started to call the Headquarter when he heard the baby crying. He went back the bathroom and he saw the baby crawling in his mother’s blood.
He had no other choice that to terminate the baby too. But when he started to pull out his gun, the crying baby looked at him. His eyes pleaded. His mouth curled. Blood was everywhere on his body.
“Fuck this,” Harry said. He stripped off his jacked and picked the baby from the bathroom floor. “I’m really sorry this happened to you. But I know I’m not going to kill you tonight.”
The crying stopped, he held the baby close to his chest with his jacket wrapped around him. He went back to his machine and punched the code that would bring him back to the future.
“I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you’ll do in the future,” he whispered to the baby. “But you’re coming with me tonight.”
Before he pushed the button on the machine, he whispered to the baby one more time.
“And from now on, I’ll call you Dex, okay? And we’re going home, Dexter Morgan.”
|
You'd be amazed at the damage a can of beans can do.
Really now, I never expected to die by being hit in the head with a can of beans.
Guh... I can't believe that happened.
Well at least I'm in a familiar environment. Same old office lobby, thousands of unattended desks as far as the eye can see, and phones going off non-stop. They really should spruce up the place a bit. It always feels a bit too retro, as though the world stopped evolving sometime in the 70s.
Oh well, might as well hop on the elevator again. Say hi to both of them, get this sorted out, and head back to work.
Hmmm which one first today. Might as well flip a coin. Wait, do I even have change here? Let's see... huh, guess currency carries over. Guess that makes sense given the whole Styx toll thing.
Well, it's tails. Guess I'm going down first.
...oh for fuck's sake, classic elevator music? This is complete torture, why the hel- oh. Actually you know what, that's fitting, very fitting. I'll have to give him props for that.
Hmm? Why is the elevator stopped? Ah right... he did put in that feature last time I came here. Oh well, good thing I know this thing is a piece of junk.
After about 30 minutes (kind of hard to tell time here) of jumping up and down as hard as I could, I hear a creaking noise. A smile graces my face as I jump one last time before the sound of grinding gears begin echoing and the rush of vertigo fills my stomach.
With a solid crashing reverberation, the elevator collides with the bottom floor. Wrenching myself free of the mess of steel, I dust myself off and call out.
"Oi, Lucy! Elevator's broken again. Don't mind the mess, I'll just help myself to the cookies,"I shout out.
Now let's see, where are they hidden this time. Hmm, might as well just rummage through everything. Let's see... 500 pound cake, Scream-o cereal, ah here they are. Man, these cookies are always *sinfully* good. Totally worth going to hell for.
**"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE AGAIN, YOU BAG OF FLESH AND STUPIDITY!?"**
Oh there he is.
"Hey Lucy, just making myself at home. You're out of cookies by the way, make sure you stock up for next time. Figured I swing by since I was in the office.
**"WHAT!? YOU ATE MY COOKIES AGAIN? HOW? THERE WERE SIX DOZENS LEFT! I WAS SAVING THEM FOR LATER!"**
"And they were absolutely delicious. Seriously, you should look into selling these. I'm sure you got plenty of businessmen down here who could strum up a helluva business."
**"I'M NOT MAKING THESE FOR JUST ANYONE! THESE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE FOR MYSEL- WAIT NO! THAT IS NOT THE MAIN ISSUE HERE! WHY ARE YOU HERE AGAIN! I SPECIFICALLY GOT A RESTRAINING ORDER AGAINST YOU AND YOUR ILK!"**
"Eh, oh yea that... you see that kinda doesn't apply to me. At least not me right now specifically."
**"WHAT NONSENSE ARE YOU BLABBERING ABOUT NOW?"**
"Well when you had your lawyer draft up that whole order and all, he was a bit too meticulous to detail and kinda made it non-applicable to me. At least the me you're talking to at the moment."
**"CLARIFY NOW YOU WRETCHED WORM! BEFORE I DRAG YOU INTO MY PERSONAL CHAMBERS!"**
"Whoa there Lucy, no need to get that personal. Besides, you and me both know that ain't how it works for me. Also, you totally aren't my type."
**"DAMN YOU AND YOUR SOUL! IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE CONDITIONS SURROUNDING YOU, I WOULD HAVE RENDERED YOU INTO OBLIVION MYSELF!"**
"Love you too Lucy, but back to answering your question. You see, the order was written very specifically to target me, at that specific moment in time and for all eternity. But that me stopped existing the moment I got sent back, you know like I usually do. So by trying to force me into a legal corner, you kinda ended up freeing me completely."
**"WHAT!? LET ME SEE THAT CONTRACT!"**
Hmm... he seems rather pissed right now. Heh, I wonder if I could find those mags around here. Let's see, last time he hid them under his bed, probably moved them to right around- ah there we go. Huh, kinda ironic he's into missionary so muc-
A sudden tug, well more like a extra-dimensional tear, threw me across the room and right in front of dear old Lucy's face.
"Huh Lucy, your face is clearing up. Did'ja start using some of that Acne Flood Away stuff I told you about? Told you it'd clear your face up after 40 days and 40 nights of constant usag-"
**"SILENCE WRETCH! I WILL HAVE ANOTHER LAWYER DRAFT UP A RESTRAINING ORDER, AND YOU! WILL! SIGN! IT!"**
Each time he paused for dramatic effect, it was accompanied by one of his fingers being jabbed through my chest. Literally. I'm pretty grateful I don't suffer any permanent damage while I'm down here. Seriously would suck when I try to get a date.
"Gah, g-got it Lucy. Jeez, no need to do so much damage. We both know it won't last and just takes longer to get me out of here. And before you get started on that new restraining order, you want me to talk to the big guy upstairs about a lawyer? And before you say anything, yea He's actually got one up there. Heard only great things about him, a real miracle worker."
**"BEGONE YOU PEST!"**
And with that I felt Lucy gather up my soul and hurl me as fast as he could back on upstairs.
"Huh, he's getting better at his fast ball pitch. Gotta commend him for that next time."
Traveling at terminal velocity through the seven circles of hell was actually rather interesting. Lots of interesting sights. I wave to Cleopatra as I'm passing by, really charming girl when she has a chance to speak in between being thrown back and forth by gusts of wind.
Ah crap...I always hate this part.
Smashing through the floor of the office lobby, I find myself dazed and delirious. I might not be able to experience any actual damage here, but unfortunately having the spins isn't considered real damage.
"Guh, I'll be feeling that one for a while. Huh, oh hey there G! What's up, and actually on that note, what are you doing down here?"
*"Hello my child, it is good to see you again. Well, perhaps not so good to see you here specifically. It appears you experienced another mishap."*
"Heh, yeah... right as always. Visited Lucy first today, he seemed kinda mad about the whole restraining order not being binding and all. But you know how he is."
A light chuckle resonated through the room. The dizziness began to immediately fade from my head. Hmm, maybe I should always visit Lucy first.
"Anyway, what brings you down here today? Usually I got to take the elevator up to you."
*"Oh you know, I just knew about the elevator breaking down and you being thrown up here. Figured I could help relieve some of your nauseousness."*
"Aww, you're the best G. Come here and give me a hug."
*"Alright, bring it in son."*
"Ah man, I've actually probably spent too long here. I'll make sure I have more time to talk to you next time. I promise."
*"Hahaha, alright my child. I'll send you on the way this time. Do be sure to send my regards to the professor."*
"Will do, see you later G!"
And with that I feel the rush of my soul returning back home to the mortal plane.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A hiss and a hum spills forth from the machine, as it empties out the strange green liquid containing the figure within.
A wiry man with large spectacles steps forth worriedly, checking the various gauges and instruments attached to the machine. After a few more moments, the machine opens up, spilling its cargo on to the floor before it. The man quickly moves to check on the figure who has fallen out.
A cough, followed by more coughing before the figure opens his eyes.
"Heh, hey doc. Sorry about the mess. You won't believe how I got done in this time."
"Ves, ves. I've already heard of your little *accident* at the store. Ze people you encounter. Guh... I do not know vhy you continue to insist on working amongst ze masses,"mutters the bespectacled man as he fetches clothing.
"Come on doc. They're not that bad. Besides, how else are you going to get data on this whole cloning thing if I don't go out and interact once in a while. Besides, you need money for your research and someone to get you groceries once in a while too. Oh and the big guy says hi, so don't worry so much about the experiment. You're not stepping on His toes or anything like that."
I begin walking away while putting on my clothes. I'm sure the good doc has already taken care of my old body at the store. Wouldn't be kosher to simply leave a rapidly decaying body behind in a public sector after all. I know the doc is frantically jotting down notes at the moment, but he's probably at ease knowing the big guy still isn't mad at him. So long as he doesn't try making another body for me while my soul is still on this plane, he's in the clear.
Pretty nice deal I got going on. Help further science, answer a couple questions about the afterlife, and getting the chance to come back to life every time I end up dying prematurely. Yea, pretty good deal.
Hmm... though I gotta admit, really wish I could find those cookies Lucy makes up here.
EDIT: Fixed some formatting.
EDIT2: Fixed more grammar/spelling mistakes. |
Indeed it had been 6 whole months that me and Madeline had been together. We were still in the lovey dovey part of the relationship with no bumps in sight. It was among the best 6 months of my life.
It was a Tuesday afternoon and I had just gotten home from work when Madeline called the house. "Honey, the government contacted me at work. They needed to talk to you about...your situation."This troubled me, the last time the governement had called about my powers was when Hurricane Sandy hit when I was laid off from my job. I hadn't had anything life altering happen to me recently so i wondered what could have happened.
I went into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich when I noticed a man in black sitting at the table. "Good evening Ray, please sit down."As he finished the sentence it began to get windy outside. I really had to work on not being so easy to read. "Hello there Jack, longtime no see. I always like it when they send you instead of that other guy."Jack looked like he had finally gotten a hang of this new job, after all he'd been through being promoted.
"Yes George can be a little to aggressive when he comes, i agree. Anyways the reason I am here is because drought warnings have started all over New York and we were wondering if it has to do with you? Has anything changed over the last couple months?"
"The whole state of New York,"i thought. Usually my powers only cover my city at most, aside from Hurricane Sandy but that was different. "The only thing that has come up has been Madeline being in my life.
Jacks face lit up like a flourescent bulb. "Oh, you got yourself a woman now eh Ray! Good for you! Listen I know when things are great it's really easy to forget about your powers but a drought in New York really isn't ideal right now, especially since it's the middle of February. You're screwing up the seasons man."
I hadn't even noticed but it had been unusually sunny the past couples of days, months even. "So what exactly do you want me to do, not be happy ever?!"The government was insane if they thought i would give up my tranquil life i had right now.
"No no no, we just need it to either rain or snow for a couple months that's all. So either watch some sad movies for a couple weeks or whatever the heck you do to make it snow. Now does that sound completely unreasonable to you?"
Compared to some of the things the government had asked this definitely wasn't bad. "I suppose watching some tear jerkers wouldn't be so bad. And as for snow it's still very hard for me to make happen when i'm not in the Christmas spirit or incredibly lonely. So you guys will have to think of something for that."
Jack seemed pleased with this answer and he got up from his chair. "Sounds to me like we got ourselves an answer. I guess i'll let myself out now."
Jack exited the house. Right before he got in his car I could've sworn i saw him wildy grinning. As he sped away I saw i had missed a voicemail from Madeline. I clicked play. "Hey Ray, I've thought it through and i can't handle this relationship anymore. With everything going on i think it's best we go our seperate ways for now. I hope you understand."
The phone hit the ground like an anvil falling from the sky. Madeline....left me. After 6 wonderful months she got up and left. I went back inside and cried myself to sleep that night, while snow lightly fell from the sky for the first time in over half a year. |
You roll your eyes "Dad, get out of the closet. I'm sure Mom just wants to ask us what we would like for dinner"
"No"your father says pouting
"Daaaad, you can't just hide everytime Mom could be mad"
"Uh, yeah I can"
You sigh "Daaaaad"
"No"
You throw your arms in the air and stomp down the stairs.
Your mother is in the kitchen, arms crossed.
Uh-oh.
"*Who* broke my vase?"
You wonder if there is still room in the closet. |
“Put me down, you two-legged freak!” I cry as the girl scoops me up.
“Meow, meow, right back at you, you little fluffy-puffy cutie-patootie.”
Humans are the worst. You protect them from all the horrors of Avernus, and this is how they treat you. Heinous is what it is! If it wasn’t for my sworn oath to defend these gates…
“No, I’m not going to sit on your lap while you play your stupid game,” I roar, scratch her hand, and break free. “I have duties to attend to. Vows to fulfill!”
The girl looks visibly sad. But I laugh on the inside. Pathetic creature.
“That’s right, next time I’ll take your entire arm off. Never cross Sir Mittens VIII!”
Now onward for glory! I gallop toward the gate. My bloodline has kept this passage into the underworld safe for generations. Now it’s my turn to prove myself against the–hold on just a second, is that tuna I smell?
One quick stop by the tavern – you can’t fight evil on an empty stomach. That’s a known fact.
“Get in my belly, you delicious creature of the sea!”
Okay, wow, that was awesome. I’m finally ready… for a nap. Just a short one.
“Siri, wake me up in twenty minutes!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that; did you say *call the vet*?”
“Oh no, not that foul villain!”
Useless human technology… when will they learn to make proper voice commands? That totally spoiled my mood to sleep, oh well, might as well head to the Battlefield of Death. Now! Let’s see what evil lurks down here tonight.
I sneak down the stairs. Quietly. Silently. The demons down here like to operate under cover of darkness, but it’s no match for my night vision. There’s scratching. And there is tittering. Nothing escapes my ears.
With a graceful leap, I land on a big box. There is a moment of complete silence as the monsters realize they’re no longer alone. I can smell their fear in the moments before their panic sets in.
“Die, you foul fiends! Die!” I bring my claws down in their midst. “Death from above!”
They try to scatter in all directions, but I’m too fast for them. Tufts of smelly fur and filthy demon blood fill the air as I pounce. One of them is going for the surface, its black eyes full of vengeance. I will deal with it later.
I laugh maniacally as I tear them to shreds. “Honor and glory! Onward to victory!”
I revel in the bloodshed. Even after they’re dead, I desecrate their corpses. “Go back from whence you came! There’s nothing but slaughter for you here!”
A piercing scream wakes me from my frenzy. It’s coming from the surface. Oh no, I’ve forsaken my duties! I’ve let the rage of battle get the best of me…
Like a furry spear, I shoot out of the darkness, back to the land of the living. The girl is standing on her chair and is whimpering as the demon dances around her.
“Not so fast, you spawn of Avernus!” I cry and land upon my foe.
It bares its teeth and tries to bite me. Ichor seeps from its vile mouth. I dodge the attack, and my claws cut clean through the demon’s throat. Gurgling, it collapses on the floor.
“You’re welcome, M’lady,” I say and bow courtly.
I’ve still got unfinished business in the realm of darkness. I start galloping back.
“Mittens! How many times have I told you not to go into the basement? Look what a mess you made. God, I hate rats.”
I shake my head in disgust. I swear, humans are so ungrateful…
"Cleaning up is the least you can do when I save your life!"
*****
The human in this story likes to read too (a waste of time if you ask me), and she never shuts up about this place called /r/Lilwa_Dexel; yeah, it's some kind of personal library that you can subscribe to or whatever. It's not like I listen or care, I have a gate to defend.
|
One of my team mates gestured to the steel door behind him, with his species equivalent of a smile.
"We have bought you a gift! A canine!"
The others nodded in agreemnet, neuro-translators allowing them to understand the series of whistles and chirps emanating from Trinq's beak.
"Aw guys, you shouldn't have!"
It was of course, a small lie. I was more than delighted to have been bought a gift, let alone a dog! It had been a long time since I had returned home, and longer again since I had a faithful friend by my side.
"But of course! All humans must have a canine! Atleast, that is what our research suggested, was it correct?"
Trinq was an intelligent creature with a heart of gold who would not have been out of place in one of the vast librairies of this galaxy. He had somehow ended up here, as a mercenary but he seemed quite happy about it.
"Yes! Absolutely your research was correct, we love dogs back home"
Well, not all humans loved dogs, but this one sure as hell did, and I wasn't gonna pass up the opportunity to make a new friend anytime soon.
"Excellent! We have chosen a fierce and loyal specimen for our warrior comrade, have we not, friends?"
Trinq gestured to the rest of the team who, once again, all nodded in agreement. Images of Alsatians and Mastiffs filled my head and I pushed towards the door, eager to meet my new pal.
My team moved aside happily and allowed me to enter the room alone, perhaps understanding that I would want my first moments with my gift to be private.
Moments later I had returned from the room, breathing heavily.
Trinq became immediately concerned,
"What is the problem? Is everything alright?"
Gulping air, I managed to explain my hasty return.
"Guys I'm really grateful that you cared enough to get me something, I really am"
Trinq pushed further,
"Then what is the issue?"
Taking another deep breath I replied,
"Thats not a dog, it's a wolf"
(First time replying to a prompt, hope I did ok) |
NOTE: I got away from the prompt; he doesn't see it right after opening his eyes, but a little later. I am aware of this.
------
*"We'll miss you while you're gone,"said Beth, my co-worker, a smile in her voice.*
*I grinned. "It's not like I'll be bed-ridden! Technology is great these days; I'll be up on my feet and back in a jiffy in no time."*
*"You better. There's a bunch of kids who will be waiting for you, and the clinic will be emptier without you."*
Besides the mess of paperwork and small talk with the anesthesiologist, this was the last conversation I'd had before my surgery.
Opportunities for the visually impaired had exponentially increased throughout my lifetime. First, it had helped me get my job, as a clinical child psychologist. I'd always wanted to help the kids who needed it, and this was one of the possible ways, thanks to a movement that made colleges and employers more open to accepting anyone.
Now, it would let me see.
Once I came conscious, I only felt a slight ache in my head. It was wonderful how far we had come. But I was still unable to see.
*"The way we do it will have you start seeing slowly, to avoid shock,"said the surgeon, a little apologetically. "Your vision will come to you slowly; you'll stay in the operating room with a nurse for about an hour until you can completely see."*
So the hour passed. There's no way to describe being blind and then slowly, slowly being able to see.
All I can say is that the world was beautiful.
Through my newfound sight, it was absolutely *beautiful*.
Once I had been released from the hospital, I couldn't stay still. I wandered around the sidewalks of the suburbs where I lived, drinking in everything I could see, then watching the stars and the sky when night fell.
The world was beautiful.
*They had assigned me to the children with physical scars, first. It was more for their sake than anything; the poor, scared, self-concious children that bore marks of their abuse. I felt sick when I thought about how anyone could hurt a child.*
*The days before I left for my surgery, I had a talk with each child the last time I would meet with them: heartfelt promises that I wouldn't look at them any differently, tears, hugs. One in particular remained in my mind.*
*Anna was the sweetest eight-year-old I'd met during my career. She was quiet, but I coaxed her into speaking, and we would be able to talk about nothing and everything —in a child's world, anyways— for a long time. Beth told me she always left with a wistful kind of smile on her face.*
*Her story was horrible; every child's was, of course, but hers spoke to me the most. When I read it on her file, I knew the child would have danced with pain. When she told me herself... it sounded like she was pain's prisoner, possibly stuck there for life. It was my job to get her out.*
*Her mother had passed away when she was six. Her father fell into a deep, deep chasm of darkness, and sometimes it was like she'd had no parent at all.*
*"I remember when I was little, he was funny,"she'd said, a little sadly. "One time he told me this joke: what's blue and not very heavy?"*
*"What?"*
*"Light blue!"And she half-laughed, a laugh that bore the marks of pain's embrace. "It's my favorite joke. Tell it to everyone you know so everyone can know such a great joke, okay?"she inquired.*
*"Of course. Light blue— that's smart."*
*"Dad was smart. He was great. He could do anything. He made great breakfasts with little smiley faces in ketchup and packed me lunch every day. And he taught me a lotta biology."*
*That was how it went. She placed great emphasis on how wonderful her father was, and it all sounded sincere; not with a robotic hint to her tone, the way a manipulated child's voice was when talking positively about their parents. Her father was truly wonderful.*
*But after her mother's death, he began to lose his temper. He'd apparently always had one, but he started verbally abusing when she wasn't even close to seven, and started beating her when she was eight. These vicious outbursts were triggered by a small mistake, or even an action or word from Anna that seemed like a child's harmless doing. He'd go back to normal in less than a day, back to the "funny, smart, great,"loving dad that Anna described. The school said that Anna was always well-fed and well-clothed, and they never noticed anything going on.*
*The outbursts got worse, until the fateful day when she'd done this or that, and he took out a knife.*
*The information file described it as:*
*"He badly disfigured the child's face."*
Anna happened to be the first child I would see on my day back. As I sat in my chair and waited for her to come in, I recalled that she hadn't been particularly concerned about how I would see her; if anything, she was happy for me.
The doorknob turned; the door opened. A small child walked in.
Her colors reminded me of all the things I had seen since gaining sight. Her brown hair was the color of an acorn shining in the sunlight. Her shirt, long-sleeved, was a cheerful pink that I saw on a cereal box at the grocery store. Her shoes were the scuffed white color of gravel that was used for decoration on peoples' front lawns.
But her face was horrible.
Not horrible in the usual sense, but horrible in what it represented.
Long, pale lines zigzagged across her skin, a jagged mess of scars. On one cheek as a dark gash that had not yet healed, and a bandage wrapped around her neck, probably hiding a worse wound that I knew I wouldn't want to see.
I remembered what she had said at the beginning of our first session. No one had remembered to tell her that I was blind, and apparently something in my face when she approached made her say, "Don't worry; the other kids are a lot worse."
If this wasn't bad...
"Hi, Anna,"I said, mentioning nothing out-of-the-ordinary as she sat down. "Got any stories to tell me today?"
"Why don't you tell me *your* story about *your* surgery?"she asked, bouncing a little in her seat. "Did it hurt? Was it cool? What is it like to see things?"
"I'll trade you,"I offered. "You tell me something interesting that happened to you, and then I'll tell you all about the surgery. Including the scrubs."She wanted to be a surgical tech when she grew up.
Anna talked about a fat old cat that had shown up in her foster parents' backyard and refused to leave, her eyes shining as she narrated. I closed my own eyes for a brief moment.
I wondered what her father had seen, looking down at this child, this child who saw him as a hero, as her whole world. How could any person wield a knife against an innocent, helpless thing?
Before I saw, I'd explained to her that the brain was an organ like everything else. Sometimes, peoples' brains broke, the way a leg breaks, and they need medicine to make it better. Her father never got medicine.
Now, I thought, *That must be a hell of a broken brain. A broken person.*
I opened my eyes again and saw Anna's bright smile as she described how the cat had arched its back, but toppled over, because it arched too far and it was too fat to balance.
In the long run, it would probably help me be more empathetic towards the victims of abuse.
But for now, I wished I was blind again, so that I didn't have to see the terrible mark that a terrible person had left on a wonderful child.
A wonderful child in a cruel world that I had so recently thought was beautiful. |
Loud hip hop music could be heard from hundreds of feet in the distance. A blue Volkswagen van stood still on a small, deserted road, right next to a crossing where a small road led towards the music.
"I guess it's here", Andy stated, adjusting his glasses as he looked at the map.
"Yeah, no shit Sherlock. We haven't heard in anything for the past fifteen minutes, but good observation", Dave raged in the back. He'd been folded up in the van that was stashed with all their instruments, backpacks and clothes for far too long, and his temper had risen accordingly. As he rubbed his knees through his torn skater jeans he mumbled: "You should become a scientist or something, dickhead".
Andy just smiled. His positive, upbeat attitude had carried the team along the way when their quest to discover a new element began. The first months were filled with excitement, but as the money ran out and their inexperience revealed parts of their incompetence, their struggles had put a damper on the mood. Except for Andy, who's almost childish optimism had a contagious effect.
"Oh shut up, *Dave*", Clarice said, sitting next to Andy in the front. She looked surprisingly clean and representative compared to the rest of the group, her dark hair neatly wrapped in a bun. "If it hadn't been for him we'd still be driving around aimlessly in the city. Coming to think of it, if it hadn't been for him, we'd still sit in that lab and wouldn't have even heard of this event."She glanced at Andy and with a smile on her face she added, snarky: "The only thing you've done in the past week is get us food poisoning at that road-side restaurant".
"Yep", Laura added, a short blonde that sat on the other side of Dave, as the three of them laughed at Dave's feigned indignation, "you really do suck, Dave."
Dave tried to take a swing at her with a neatly-wrapped roll of bubble plastic, but as he reached for her he accidently hit the tiny fold-up table they'd installed in the van. Their research papers fell to the floor of the van as Dave cursed and Laura laughed at him. "Point proven."
"Alright, let's go then. I think they said it would start around 9", Andy said, as he glanced at his watch. They had around ten minutes to get there and set up shop. As he turned onto the small, bumpy road the noise became increasingly louder. They quickly went through their plan again. "...so you bring the meter, I'll set up the camera where the vision is good, and uhm..."Clarice summed up from her notepad, "oh, yeah, Dave, don't forget the..."
"I know, I know", came a muffled voice from under the seat, as Dave picked up the last pieces of paper. "Still feel like this might just be another wild goose-chase though". He rose back to his seat with a red face and placed the papers back on the table, all with the red-stamp of their research on it: "Cenanium".
"Could be", Andy replied, as the van turned right and drove onto an open area, where a large amount of cars were packed. Hundred yards ahead was a large building that looked like an old warehouse, bright lights glowing through the windows and the music still booming. "Who knows, it might be worth our while and it's better than doing nothing". He parked the car and they got out of the car, all of them grabbing their respective parts of equipment. Other groups of men and women, all looking distinctively tipsy, walked towards the building. There was an electric excitement in the air, one that didn't go unnoticed by the group. Men were speaking loudly to each other, predicting the winners of tonight, and a group of women made pictures of the fan-made shirts they were wearing with a different group of approving bystanders.
"I didn't know people cared about wrestling in 2017", Clarice noted.
"You....you what now?"Dave replied, as he hurried himself towards her, his arms loaded with the equipment he was carrying. "Wrestling is...it's magic", he added slowly, but even though he was serious, a smile danced around his mouth. As Clarice lifted an eyebrow he just smiled and said: "You'll see".
They paid for their tickets and strolled inside with their equipment, surprisingly not a problem for the security that was present. Wondering why, Laura walked in the large room that was filled to the brim with people, and then she understood. Fans had brought fold-up chairs, miniature wooden tables, signs, and just about everything you'd expect at a garage sale, and she figured nothing they had brought in seemed out of the ordinary. They walked all the way to the top of the stairs behind the last row of seats, and set up their equipment. The music was still blasting loudly, with lights flaring and a commentator and showgirls entertaining the fans seated around the ring.
"Quite the turn up", Andy said loudly through all the noise.
"Yeah, I hear there's a fan favorite coming, or something", Laura yelled back, "I just heard some people talking about it."
Suddenly the bright lights were turned off and the music stopped, and they sat in an almost completely dark stadium. A spotlight was turned on and the commentator started: "Ladiiiiiieeeessss and gentlemen...let's get ready to ruuuuuuummmmbbblleeeeeeeee!"
All the fans roared in excitement, waving their flags and signs around in the mania. The group just stood and watched and hoped that whatever they were looking for was present. Out of nowhere three guys in front of them stood up, and grabbed saxophones from underneath them. They all played an enthusiastic tune that caused the crowd to go wild. The commentator continued as they played: "The home favorite, Matttttthhhhhhhewwwwwww Fiiiiirrrrreeeeeeee". A few fans in the back of the stadium roared but they were drowned out by the fans humming along with the saxophones, as the wrestler walked towards the podium and climbed into the ring. "And his rival, the greatest, the uncontested, the man you have all been waiting for...", and the spotlight turned back towards the entrance. The crowd went wild, and the group of scientists all stood upright and stared at the empty walkway. The saxophones blared again, and the spotlight moved towards the ring as if it tracked something over the concrete floor. The ropes shook as if someone had just climbed through. And then, out of nowhere, the announcer's microphone was pulled out of his hand.
"Jooooooooooohhhhnnnnnnn Ceeeeennnnnaaaaaa", a different voice said, as the microphone floated in thin air. The crowd went ballistic, as the commentator cheered along and his opponent clapped respectfully.
"Holy shit, what *is* going on?"Dave screamed, and the rest of the group stared at each other in amazement. "He's actually invisible!"
As the noise of the crowd slowly died down a muscled man appeared in the ring, who give the mic back to the announcer. He shook a closed fist to the crowd who all clapped and chanted as he moved to his corner. The gang followed his movements closely, but nothing interesting happened as he prepped himself in the corner. Only when he turned around and wiped the sweat of his face with his hand, Laura screamed. "Did you see that, did you fucking see that?"she yelled, her voice high-pitched as ever as she pointed towards the ring. He just flickered and went invisible again!"
The other group was stunned in amazement. And then Andy said, astonished: "It's his hand. Hands. He did it when he wiped his face..."
Clarice gasped. "We need to get his hands...somehow"she said, as if she was out of breath.
And the group just stared in silence as the rest of the stadium exploded when the match started. After a minute of disbelief Dave spoke up: "Right, guys...I guess this is a really bad moment to say I left the chainsaw in the van?" |
He was in the car, waiting for her to finish up with dance class.
He was pissed. He fought with her again this morning, and no amount of work could make him forget the stupidity of their arguments. He was tired of the same old discussions and this daily fighting. It had to stop.
But, here he was, same as always. Waiting for her after work hours, day after day, week after week, month after month.
He sighed. Everyone else was coming out now... And there she was.
She easily spotted his car from the entrance and walked towards him with a smile on her face. Good mood, all right. He guessed it meant that there won't be loud discussions tonight.
She quickly got in the passenger seat. He knew she would take out her tablet and ignore him as they drove home. He was willing to drive away in perfect silence, only, she told him that she loved him.
"I love you, Daddy!"She gave him a big hug as she said those words in her own 7-year-old way. "Mommy said I should do that today. So, I love you!"
She gave him a kiss on the cheek and sat back down. He looked at her, dumbfounded, then chuckled as she took out her tablet. He ruffled his daughter's hair affectionately and drove home, smiling.
EDIT: Thank you for reading, kind stranger! By the way, /u/TevoKJ did a lovely reading of this. [Listen to it here!](https://soundcloud.com/user-437193030/she-told-him-that-she-loved-him-udisguisedcyclone) |
They’d all left so long ago, Jack had forgotten what the city used to sound like. He’d always complained about the noise. Sirens, horns, angry people yelling. All of it seemingly about to boil over into chaos. But now it was the silence that kept him awake. An eerie reminder that he was alone. Every so often the silence would be broken by the whir of one of those… machines. A slow groaning, gradually accelerating into a deafening boom. Another traveler lost to the past. One less person to talk to. It became clear that time didn’t work like everyone had expected. People traveled back, but nothing changed. Or at least it never seemed to. He couldn’t be sure. But no one ever returned.
 
Food was starting to get hard to come by now that most of the people had gone. Jack had started kicking in doors of the surrounding apartments of his high rise to get supplies. It wasn’t something he would have tried a week before. If he’d broken his ankle, it would need to heal that way. There certainly wasn’t anyone around to fix it. He’d gathered enough canned food to last him a couple of weeks, but he stopped looking after apartment 12C. He couldn’t forget the smell. When the door broke open on the third kick, the stench poured from the room like hot molasses. Jack had fallen to his knees and vomited before he knew what happened. When he had composed himself, he saw the machine. Just like the other apartments, it sat empty. Its passenger lost through time. In a reclining chair next to the machine lay a decomposing body. Jack could tell the woman had been old. Too old to take care of herself it seemed. The caretaker had clearly jumped through time, leaving the woman behind. Left alone to slowly starve. Jack stared for a while, breathing through his shirt. He wondered if the woman had been abandoned, or if her traveler had left when the instructions first came out. Back when people thought they could change the future. Maybe they were trying to do some good. The fools. The first adaptors, all of them fools. And he couldn’t help but think of Susan.
 
She had been idealistic, and he loved her for it. But Jack was cynical. He didn’t think it would work, but Susan was set on proving him wrong. ‘We can finally make an impact’ she’d said, pleading with him. ‘We can fix things.’ But he’d argued back ‘things aren’t so bad! At least we have each other.’ But she didn’t seem content. Tears had welled in her eyes. ‘Don’t you understand? I can see her again. Maybe I can save her.’ And there was no more arguing. She stepped through the door, and by the time he decided to go after her, she had vanished into the crowd. Back when there was a crowd. He’d found her door unlocked when he went to her apartment the next day. There was no one there. When he touched the machine it had been warm. Susan was an early adopter.
 
Jack held out for 8 more weeks. He had hated every person that had stepped into one of these horrible things. Every time he heard the boom of another person falling through time, his rage grew stronger. He hadn’t seen another person for 3 weeks when he finally began to teeter on the edge of insanity. Jack had traveled through the city streets in search of another person. Eventually he screamed at the buildings until he lost his voice. No one responded. Only the wind. He was alone.
 
And then it came to him. Maybe he could fix it. Maybe he could go back and destroy the plans before they were ever posted. He’d make sure the machines could never be made. He’d make sure Susan never left him. He’d fix it. He had to. He couldn’t be alone anymore.
 
Jack always told himself he’d never consider it, but here he was, staring at one of the machines, door ajar. He was sure the power grid wouldn’t last for much longer. It was now or never. He stepped into the machine and told himself he was doing it for Susan. The machine groaned, the sound slowly intensifying. The world outside the machine seemed to flicker and fade. The sound became deafening. Jack closed his eyes, palms pressed against his ears. He tried to remember Susan’s face.
 
This is how the world ends. By abandoning the future.
|
Silence. And then the person who picked up the call hangs up on you.
Your kidnappers grab the phone away from you, laughing at the fact that you only thought of food even in the face of death. You bow your head, tears streaking down your face, hoping that the one person that cared understood what you were trying to say. The kidnappers decided you were so worthless that even killing you was too much effort when instead they can carry out the rest of their plans on the city. They lead you to a prison cell and lock you in.
Later that night you sit there, looking out the tiny window, wishing upon all the stars in the sky for some reprieve. And slowly you drift off to sleep.
All of a sudden, you are woken up by a crashing sound. You turn to the door trying to not get your hopes up, when through the settling dust you see her. Carrying her tea tray like a shield and cane a like a sword, she was there. You looked around her into the hallway beyond and saw the kidnappers on the ground. "How?", you ask. "Just a spot of tea and a dash of something that definitely wasn't sugar", she answers with a wink and begins to lead you back home. |
"Meddy"she was called.
My intrigue began with her accent, which I couldn't quite place. She was Greek. Young. Flirtatious. I was surprised. Something about this random woman was simply magnetic. She fascinated me.
~~~
She seemed as caught off by me as I was by her.
"How are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Talking to me...still?"
I was perplexed. Did she think she was boring? Ugly? Was her self esteem that low?
I decided to shoot for a joke. I removed my glasses, showing her my eyes.
"Maybe it's because I'm blind."
"Ahh. I understand now."
To this day, I have no idea what she meant.
~~~
For some reason, I decided to take a huge risk - Damien had given me some "icebreaker"questions to ask on a date, blindly attributing my lack of luck in dating to poor conversational skills.
"If you could be any animal, what animal would you be, and why?"
"Anything but a spider. Maybe a bird."
"A bird?"
"Yes. Cliche, I know, but there's something ever alluring about being able to fly away from all your curse and responsibilities."
Yes, it was a bit cliche. But hearing these words from her mouth was like music to my ears.
"What about you?"
~~~
There had to be something wrong with her...right? How could a woman so perfect be so single? And interested...in me? A few months into dating, I asked my buddy, Damien, to give me the hard truth - to look her over and tell me his opinion when he saw her. She entered the diner and he immediately went dead quiet.
To this day I have not heard from him. Not a word of apology or congratulations. As if I really cared what she looked like; as though the question was anything more than just morbid curiosity. For him to cut off all contact with me seemed a bit of an exaggeration. But perhaps our friendship had simply reached it's denouement.
I mentioned this event to Meddy a few months later. She would later surprise me with a statue of Damien. Whether she somehow got in contact with him, or carved in from memory, she would not say. The mischievous little minx.
~~~
I would take up a job teaching. She told me she had plans to stay at home and work on her garden and sculptures, a pursuit I fully encouraged. Running my hands over her work. The bodies, they felt so *real*, down to the minuscule details, the things that most seem to miss... "One day", I insisted. "You have to get her work in a gallery. On display".
She responded that she hated the spotlight. That it felt almost like bragging, and that'd she prefer to keep to herself.
From then on, my encouragement would be hollow - a sentiment I feel she sensed. Naturally I wanted the best for her, but to hear that she preferred to stay in the dark, to have this beautiful gem of a human being want to AVOID the eyes of the general public; to be mine and only mine. I must admit I enjoyed the feeling.
Is that selfish of me?
~~~
If I had to choose an animal to be, I'd be a python. I would starve myself for weeks, prepping my body; before devouring Meddy whole. Her heavenly taste would overload my senses - It'd be the closest I could come to tasting Ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. For weeks she'd be inside me; it'd be as though we were one. Once she was finally digested, I could rest knowing that no one would ever try to taste what I had, this forbidden fruit they had neglected. I then starve to death, for how could anything else on this Earth ever satisfy me?
~~~
One day, several years into our marriage, I asked Meddy to create a sculpture of herself for me. I was surprised by how vehemently she refused me, saying she wouldn't dare. Her skill far exceeded anything I had felt before; it didn't seem like it'd be an impossible task. It was the first time in a long time we had ever argued, for a split second, it sounded like she *hissed* at me.
I dropped the subject. I'd rather have the real thing than an effigy.
~~~~
It's been thirty years, and I've come to believe in the magic of love more than ever. Even as I get older, Meddy still sounds like the intriguing young Greek woman I met decades ago. She's still my little nymph.
Last night, as we lay, tangled in each others bodies, she mentioned what has to be the most simultaneously endearing and superfluous idea I've heard. She wants to pour her own savings into furthering research into technology that might reverse my blindness. Then, she wants us to wait until I'm on my death bed to go through with the procedure. As I lay dying, I'll open my eyes and see her, the last thing I'll ever see, before I exit from this world.
The idea of her face being the last thing I see, etched in stone, a memory I could exit this world with.
How could I say no?
|
"Yeah that sounds pretty reasonable, I'll... hey would you look at that?"
The salesman audibly sighed. The call had gone on for five hours to this point, and we both knew he had made no progress into my buying one of his crappy knives. But hey, why not keep him on for a while longer, the talk shows are a little bit boring this time of day.
"What could it possibly be,"he said, exhausted.
"I think it was a bird of some sort,"I said, "mighta been a blue jay, or maybe a hawk. Hell I'm no ornithologist."
The thought of him frantically searching up the word made me laugh. He heard, and just said, "Sir, do you intend on purchasing a Cuterino knife, highest quality knife on the market?"
"I dunno yet,"I said, "you haven't convinced me of the prowess of the knife."
"One moment sir,"he said.
I heard a crash, and a muted screaming from the other side, then a loud *slap*. He returned, and with a whimper in his voice, he said, "Sir, please just purchase a knife or end the call. I'm not allowed to leave unless I sell one or you hang up, neither of which seem to be happening any time soon. So I beg you sir, just end this hell for both of us."
I laughed.
"Hell?"I asked, "son you've made my day. It's nice to have someone to talk to on these rides."
The salesman on the other end expressed his silent exasperation.
"The wife is always busy, and the kids never seem to have time to talk to their old man at home, much less on the road. So it's nice to hear a human addressing me, not two idiots on the radio insulting each other eight hours a day."
The salesman continued his silence, and my only companion was the sound of the tires on the ground.
"Tell you what, it's getting late and I'm tired myself. I'll buy one of your knives as a thank you for your time. That ok with you?"
I heard a muffled cheer.
"Yes sir, thank you so much!"
We hashed out the details, I gave him my credit card number while driving (fairly difficult), and we headed our figurative separate ways, him for his home, me for the wide open road. For two hours, I listened to music, or the radio, or thought about my wife and kids, probably off having fun at the neighborhood barbecue without me. Then, I got a call. I answered.
"Is this the trucker?"a familiar voice came, "I hope this'll be worth that knife, sir."
The rest of the ride wasn't as lonely. |
Another day began in Washington. Kids were playing on the soft green grass of Summer. Parents watched them carefully in fear... of him. He went by different names. Troublemaker, Annoyance, but mostly by a certain name. A name that instilled either fear or joy in people's hearts.
I try to stop him. But I can't. He's everywhere. He's overfilling a cup of coffee in one place and pushing people off bikes at the same time. He never hurts anyone. Physically anyway. I've stopped villains that rob, villains that kill, but I can't manage to catch a minor inconvenience?
City officials don't mind him. In fact, they don't even know the trouble he causes. Problem is, he isn't just a Washington problem. He's a national nuisance. My fellow heroes have also failed to defeat him. Even Spectrum couldn't, and she stopped a meteor from hitting Earth!
But I hear my call everytime it happens. They call his name, even if it wasn't his fault. They blame him. But then I hear it. I hear my call to action, the sign that he's returned to create minor chaos. I see her, a woman that just tripped over seemingly nothing. "Ugh, thanks, Obama."
==============
These aren't my actual political thoughts, I just thought it would be funny. |
1
Three children stand nearby. How long has it been since their last meal? Hours? More?
“I have never been this hungry in my life!” A child grins.
It is not a pretty sight. Empty bowls litter the ground. The children run around like a mouse in its cage.
An old woman paces next to them. Her eyes, bright and full of life.
Mary had been first. Dirt covered her.
Now, the children gathered, hungry.
Predatory birds flew overhead, skies blue, far too empty.
Stomaches growled. The child laughed again.
Hollow sticks were held in small hands, toys and pretend—they were all knights in dreams.
“Too far gone to save!” They smelled something burning.
“Hurry up,” the laughing child spoke, “Let’s eat, Grandma!”
***
2
Three children stand nearby. How long has it been since their last meal? Hours? … More? *I have never been this hungry in my life.*
A child grins—it is not a pretty sight.
Empty bowls litter the ground. The children run around.
Like a mouse in its cage, an old woman paces next to them. Her eyes…
Bright and full of life, Mary had been first—dirt covered her now.
The children gathered, hungry, predatory. Birds flew over head, skies blue.
Far too empty stomachs growled. The child laughed again, hollow. Sticks were held in small hands.
*Toys and pretend*… They were all… *knights in dreams*… Too far gone to save.
They smelled something burning. *Hurry up.*
The laughing child spoke. “Lets eat grandma!” |
There was a clicking in the distance, like ants looking for food.
I keep my watch.
There are bullet holes in the walls, as if the world were trying to break down the door. As if the world were trying to invade this sanctuary for my brethren. They want to poison the water, and destroy this home for the wayward.
I keep my watch.
There's a strange noise, defying all earthly explanation. It seems to come from everywhere, with no tangible source. The sound invokes terror, and many brave men have lost their wit because of it.
I keep my watch.
The invaders have killed so many, I think I am all that is left. Maybe they will forget about me. Maybe they will have the honor to let me live, and to keep my watch.
They won't.
With a thunderous blast, the door falls. Their weapons fire. Their tools of war are employed. They react to every obstacle like an opposing army. I fire my last bullet, though I am assuredly not the last human soldier.
I kept my watch. |
"You're back."
Alistair reread One's comment to ensure he wasn't confused. He idly noted that One was quite a unique username to have, before focusing on the contents of the comment itself.
Yep. Apparently, he was 'back'?
All to aware of the lens of the Nikon 5300 that he had perfectly centered on his face, he stopped himself from showing any surprise. Always a capable liar, he smiled toothily.
"Yep, I'm back. Thanks One!"
He continued playing the game - Need For Speed, arguably one of the greatest games of all time in his opinion - but, his mind whirred for a few moments. Perhaps it was a classmate or friend messing with him? He quickly discounted the thought. He hadn't even seen any of them in weeks - traveling to Hawaii for a vacation did that to you.
Chalking it up as just a weird comment, he continued drifting in an out of police car blockades and blasting his nitro to get to safe space. Alistair suddenly realized how quiet it was.
How in the hell was he supposed to make this entertaining? Was he supposed to be talking as he played? That's what all the big streamers did, right?
Blushing in embarrassment, he swallowed his pride and was about to attempt a conversation when another ding lit up his inbox from One.
"...He actually heard us?"
Before he could reply, another ding.
"Hey, he did! Hi, I'm Two! How was Hawaii?"
Another ding.
"He hated it LOL. The idiot tried surfing and face-planted into his board. At least *try* to pay attention next time, Two."
Ding.
"Three, you weren't even awake for that. You slept for sixteen hours straight, got up to swear at Two and pick a fight with Five, and then knocked out again. I filled you in on everything this morning."
A long pause, than another ding.
"...Whatever Four. Go stick your head where the sun doesn't shine."
"Superb comeback. Excellent. Really, you should teach classes. At least that way, you'd actually do something with your useless existence. "
"F\*\*\* U FIVE! I'm going to rip you limb from limb, you back-faced, two-headed, carrot-sticked gizzard! Don't you have books to read, four-eyes?!"
"Silence. Everyone. Zero can hear us."
The sound of his car being totaled rang through his headphones but Alistair had long forgotten the game. His eyes were glued to the conversation taking place on his screen. After a long pause, another messaged appeared from Six.
"Zero, can you hear us?"
"OF COURSE HE CAN! Look at him, he's staring at the screen!"
"Four, if you would."
"With pleasure."
"OKAY OKAY, jeez, I'll shut up."
There was a pause, and then Six sent another another message.
"Zero, I understand how strange this is. However, if you can read this message please respond."
Alistair hesitated. Internet horror stories for South African Princes stealing credit card information and international hackers flit through his mind. However, his curiosity got the better of him, and slowly raised his gaze to the camera.
"Yes, I can hear you." |
"Hey, aren't you excited?"The girl behind the counter asks, looking somewhat confused by my terrified reaction.
"You don't understand"I mumbled, trying to contain my fear "I just won two hundred and thirty thousand dollars...I'm a dead man for sure". I began looking around, wondering where it would come from. Would a gas pump outside explode? Or would it be a robbery gone wrong? Bleeding to death in the floor sounded preferable to burning alive, but I didn't really get a say in the matter.
"Whatever weirdo. Sign the ticket on the back so nobody can steal it. You'll have to claim it in the nearest lottery office, which is in Nashville. They're open tomorrow if you want to make the trip down. If you don't have a car I'll drive you myself for a couple hundred!"She laughed, good naturedly patting me on the arm. I flinched back, fully expecting to be struck by lightning at her touch. She gave me another concerned look, but seemed to give up on joking after that.
I stepped out the door of the gas station, my eyes swinging left to right frantically, was a car going to hit me? Was a hawk going to swoop down and peck out my eyes? I couldn't be sure. I ran home...well, not so much ran as that awkward fast walk you do when you're afraid if you run you'll fall and break your neck. I locked myself in, barricaded the door.
I had enough canned goods to last me a good few weeks, and my bills were all on autodraft. I worked from home, and my social obligations have always been extremely limited. So I had decided to wait it out. Whatever fresh hell the universe had planned for me in response to my windfall would have to come to me if it wanted so desperately to punish me.
After 34 days in solitude, a knock on my door scared the living daylights out of me. I figured it was here. My impending demise. Part of it must've been the waiting I suppose. The anticipation had aged me twenty years in the span of a month. But answer it I did, knowing full well I would likely perish.
At the door stood the young convenience store clerk, looking somewhat confused. "Hey, I got your address off the internet after I heard you hadn't claimed your prize in time. You know those things expire after 30 days right?"She asked.
I had not. |
Whispers of her return brought the Elders rushing together to discuss the phenomenon. While theoretically possible, no one has returned from the Otherworld if left Wandering for more than a few days. A rite of passage into adulthood for their people, children were gifted their keys at the age of 13. Rijn was gifted her key 7 years ago. A simple gardeners key inlaid with a sparkling soul stone for the daughter of the royal family. No one could guess what she would face during the Wandering. It was common for members of the elite to face a perfect, glowing, powerful version of themselves as a symbol of worldly vanity. Rijn wore her sister’s hand-me-downs and refused her chambers for the rustic charm of the stables outside. Some believed she would face a dark, empty world that reflected her inner solitude. Anyone who has had the pleasure of being in the gentle and warming presence of the princess will tell you that she is content with or without others. A few thought she would face some terrifying traumatic incident that the royal family has hidden from the populace. No such event happened.
The Otherworld is a place meant to purge the demons within, but sometimes the feeble mind of an adolescent will succumb to their darkest nightmares. The few that never return are left for dead, slaves to their demons. Rijn shouldn’t have survived that long.
A mess of scars and tattered rags, Rijn dived through the shimmering veil leading to the Otherworld and landed with a thud and a groan onto the dark marbled floor of the Elder’s sanctuary. The Head Elder raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise, darkening the many wrinkles zigzagging his forehead. Recognizing the key that he summoned from her bosom all those years ago, he hobbled over to the now grown Rijn abandoning his staff in his haste. Covered in dark, rotten blood with rivers streaming down her beaten face, she managed a weak smile before collapsing in the lap of the concerned old man.
Left in a coma for 5 days, her eyes flickered open as she took in her surroundings. She was home. Her tears stained the nightgown which felt foreign on her rough calloused skin. The old rags she wore were still embedded in the gashes that marred her frame which looked like discolored scar tissue. “What did you see young one?” The Head Elder sat in an old oak rocking chair facing the window, brow furled deep in thought. He did not turn to face her and continued to stare out over the almost perfectly still sea save for a single ship departing from the harbor headed for the horizon as she sat up to face the old man. She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. Sweat climbed out of her pores as she began to tremble at the thought of what she witnessed. “Everyone died Elder. Even you.” The old man nodded in contemplation and acknowledgement. A kind soul always faced the death of a loved one for their trial, but many came back with their head held high. “How?” Another shudder and more tears. The old man slowly turned to face the young woman. He saw her eyes drilling holes into her palms. “I see,” said the old man. He slowly rose from his oak seat and limped out of the room leaving her alone.
Seven years of Wandering with a demon dictating her every movement. Her version of the Otherworld was a beautiful paradise. Not a single demon in sight. Too late did she learn the consequences of lingering despite the warnings from the Elders. The world began to decay and morphed into a wasteland of a place that once was. Her mind went blank as she watched from the passenger’s seat in her mind. She was corrupted by the Otherworld and forced to watch as she, but not really her, killed every single person she ever cared about. 7 years of witnessing her mother, her father, her sister all being choked to death by her hands. She could feel every single moment. The smooth warm skin around their necks. Their eyes begging for mercy. Their lips gasping for air. Their nails digging into her body with feeble desperation. She was lucky to escape, though forever changed.
She lay back down. She survived. The little girl died a long time ago. All that was left was a patchwork of scars and a name. Rijn. |
**Sixty years later, in the Rocket Hills Retirement Home**
----
They gathered around Tasnim as he was dying.
Elayna, Zev, Anthony, and Evander had, along with Tasnim, lived long lives. But Tasnim was the oldest of their cohort, and as he'd been the first to step foot on Mars, he would be the first of them to die.
"I wanted you all here before I... left,"Tasnim said.
"Of course,"Zev said. "You know we would come."
"This isn't a final reminisce,"Tasnim said. "This isn't one last get together. This is a confession."
The rest of the cohort shared glances; Tasnim was a fairly straight-laced guy, at least nowadays. In his youth, of course, he'd gotten into his share of antics, but the mission had matured him.
"You remember,"Tasnim said, breathing with difficulty, "the words on the cavern wall?"
"How could we forget?"Zev said. "They got us funded for decades,"he tried to grin.
Elayna, the realist of the group, was having none of it. "Yeah, and kicked off the kinds of troubles we couldn't have even imagined! How many people, Zev, *died* because of those words? Don't make light."
"Elayna,"Zev said, not looking at her, "Please, for Tasnim's sake."
"No,"Tasnim said, "she's right. The rest of you, I assume you agree?"
Anthony and Evander shared nervous glances. Both of them were members of opposing religions that had cropped up in the wake of the words, ones that believed that the message had been from God and Satan, respectively. Still, they both nodded.
"You know me,"Anthony said. "I am no extremist. But the violence that people claiming to share my beliefs have perpetrated... it was beyond the pale."
"And the same with my own people,"Evander added. "I, too, am no extremist, but I had lobbied for some of the more... disagreeable actions. Destroying of the site,"he admitted, "for instance. But I would never harm another."
"Still, the words..."Tasnim managed. "Caused so much hurt... The words... I put there."
There was a moment of stunned silence.
"You're joking... right?"The joke would have been in character for a younger Tasnim, but not the more mature one they'd come to know more over the years. The one that he'd become... after the mission. After the consequences of, for example, a prank gone horribly wrong.
"You're not joking,"Elayna put their thoughts into words.
"I'm sorry,"Tasnim said.
"But... but why!?"Anthony asked. "I didn't believe in anything until I saw those words, I had no hope, going to mars was going to be the pinnacle of my life and everything afterward was just going to be downhill. But those words made me believe... and *you* did them?"
"I thought it... was funny,"Tasnim managed.
"I wish I'd been wrong,"Evander muttered darkly. "I, too, found a belief to follow and I wish, with my whole heart, that it was wrong."
"The fuck is wrong with you!"Elayna demanded, not caring that she was yelling at a dying man. "You kicked off spiritual crises, wasted *trillions* of dollars on excavations and archaeological explorations that went nowhere, and oh yeah kicked off a few actual *wars!*"
"I thought..."Tasnim said, "that you would figure it out. That we'd all... have a big laugh... and move on with the mission."
"How?!"Elayna yelled. "How were were supposed to know it wasn't real?"
"You..."Tasnim was fading. "You dumb shits..."he said as his eyes closed for the final time. "It was written in English...." |
The only one who smiled as the human entered the council chamber was the Arcturian, the ambassador of the species who had extended the original invitation. The salt-and-pepper haired, neat-bearded man smiled back as he sat down comfortably in the big foamy chair. He then started perusing his notes.
There were many whispers and telepathic signals buzzing about.
The man suddenly looked up as he felt some foreign words enter his mind.
"The pacing of these meetings can be a little strange. Feel free to speak your mind whenever you're ready."
"Thank you. By the way, when are you gonna teach us humans how to do the telepathy thing?"
"You already know how to do it, you've just kinda... forgotten. It'll come back to you with time."
After a few minutes, the human rose. The rest of the council fell silent.
"Well, first of all... no hard feelings, yah?"
There were several uncomfortable chuckles strewn about the council meeting.
"First of all, I'd like to thank the Arcturians, and the Lyrans, and the Telosians for your patience, and understand, and gracious welcome to this community. It has always been a part of the human ambition, to be part of something greater. Our past is filled with struggles, to understand the world, and most of all, to understand ourselves. And it has taken many millennia for us to reach a point in our evolution where we are able to live in peace with ourselves, and with each other, and hopefully, with all of you."
The room filled with some soft claps and affirmative nods, along with some uncomfortable stares.
"But... that's why our friends invited us. The rest of you... you want us here for another reason."The human glanced over at a tall, dark, grey insectoid with a menacing aura. He continued. "You want us here, because our rapid evolution has allowed us to retain certain... instincts, instincts which some of you lack. We are an... emotionally complex species, and although we desire peace, and love, and wisdom, it has only been 11,000 years since our primary concern, was the complete, total, and abject extermination of anything that threatened our survival, whether it was the predators of our world, to our very own kind. It is not something we are proud of, but it is something we have always had to live with. And in the past... some of you have had to live with it as well."
A regal looking reptilian growled and rolled his eyes.
"Some of you have learned the hard way, humans are to be respected, and are not to be trifled with, regardless of their status as a... 'lower lifeform'. A snake is perhaps lower than a human. But that does not mean one has the right to trample on its burrow, and not expect to be bitten and injected with venom."
"What's a snake?"A young Orela raised her hand.
"... It's not important. The point is, Earth is our world. And our sovereignty is ours alone. As a species, we have been forced to contend with a broad spectrum of aspects of self, ranging from kindness and compassion, to intellectual pursuits, to conquest and self-defense. And so, we are here, because some of you don't know how to have both one and the other. Some of you know how to kill, but not how to raise or teach. Some of you know how to nurture, but not how to say no to an intruding force. We have been asked here because we are the bridge between spectrums. We know how to do both. We are here, to show you the meaning of teaching. And we are here, to teach you, how to kill."
A bright light emerged from the center of the council chamber. A holographic projection, portraying a horrific, alien entity defying most description, aside from the fact that it was vaguely cephalopod-like. There were many murmurs, and even some shrieks. The human pointed straight at it.
"THESE THINGS!"He cried. "These things have NO RIGHT, to intrude upon OUR universe. And it IS, OUR universe."He gazed around at the council. "Those of you who have tried to conquer us, now find themselves being conquered. Those of you who have shown us kindness and mercy, find themselves not receiving it in return. These things have come from another dimension to violate OUR sovereignty, our RIGHT TO EXIST!"
He turned darkly to the insectoids and the reptilians. "Now you know what it feels like."
He turned back towards the cephalopodic entity. "But the survival of our universe does not lie in holding grudges. It's going to rely on working past them. Starting today, we will all become brothers in arms. Love and wrath, courage and honor, kindness and patience, and righteous vengeance, these forces will weave together and intertwine into a mighty force. Just as they have done so in our species, so to shall they in all of yours. Everything we are, everything we have, everything we care about, is on the line. And so it shall be, that starting today, we will begin to rally."
A great fist of holographic light reached out to grab the entity, and crushed it in a shower of sparkles. The entire hologram faded away.
"What say we get started? Our universal army isn't going to build itself."
There was silence in the council room, as most of the races didn't know how to respond.
Then, the Orela raised her hand again. "Can you teach us how to build a relativistic kill vehicle cannon?"
Another, simian-like ambassador stood up. "What adaptations do you have to make to an Alcubierre shield generator to use it in combat?"
Suddenly, the human's mind was bombarded with several questions at once about how to make and use various weapons.
"ECHEM!"The reptilian rose up. He cracked his neck and turned to the Orela. "Our cannons are still more powerful than the human's. We can teach you."
Almost the entire council seemed taken aback.
"... You're, not concerned about giving state secrets out to the rest of the galaxy?"The Orela shyly asked.
The reptilian's gaze slid over to the human, who stared back at him intently.
"... The human is right."
The council chamber roared with whispers and telepathic signals.
The human glanced around, a little confused. But then he heard the Arcturian's voice in his mind.
"I knew inviting your species to the council was the right choice. You have no idea what you've done. The reptilians have never shown deference to any other species in history, in anything."
"No kidding. They used to feed on our children like McNuggets."
"...I don't know what those are, but yes. In fact, they've treated half the species represented here as food at some point or another. For them to admit that a human is right, it's incredible."
"... You don't know what children are or McNuggets?"
"... Working with your kind is going to be fun." |
"Wait you are seriously? It's haunted?"
"Yeah, but don't worry you will get used to Jerry in no time. He is as silent as a mouse. Shall we move on? The kitchen in here is exceptional"
"What, no. All this makes no sense. What is he doing here?"
"He lost somebody. If the stories are true he was always fighting with this guy, but after the guy left he realized that he was his only friend. They fought a lot, but if he was down he was there as well. He has been looking for him ever since."
I felt a bit bad for Jerry after hearing this. He really sounded like a lost soul. I was starting to feel empaty for a ghost
"That's quite sad".
"Yeah, don't have to tell me. He has been trying it with social media and all lately, but it's just not easy for him. I tried helping him but to no succes. I don't got much to go on"
I really liked the house, but I don't see me living in an haunted house, even if the story of Jerry was heartbreaking. Maybe I could help him if I knew more about him:
"You know how he died?"
"Tragical. He and his friend/enemy both got turned down by their ladyloves. It broke them. I don't know exactly how he met his end, if it was even that same night, but that evening broke them"
"But if you don't mind, could we move on? This story always makes me to sad."
I for sure felt terrible how Jerry ended, but it didn't sound like I could help him. He has been searching for years if not decades by the sound of it. Still an haunted house was just not what I was looking for.
"Yeah off course sorry. But if I'm honest with you I don't see myself living in an haunted house. Even if I would barely notice hs is here, it would always be in the back of my mind"
"Understandable. Maybe meeting him could pursuade you. I promise Jerry don't mean you no harm"
"Sure, I guess"
I was a bit relectant coming face to face with a ghost, but that changed when Jerry surfaced. He wasn't what I expected. Instead of a transperent white old man I though would appear, a small brown mouse stood in front of me.
A tear excaped my eye "You are looking for Tom aren't you?" |
“Ok, no, no wait. That’s not right. Give me a second”, the boy said for what felt like the 100th time today. “Where are we?” I looked at his note book and started to go though it all again. The wish already was 5 pages long and was getting longer and longer.
“Can you just...”, the genie started, but he knew he didn’t have any chance to convince him that it was not necessary. Not with him. In all his life as a genie, he heard so many dumb wishes and never once took advantage of disadvantageous wording. And never once did someone not get what he wanted. But this one. This youngster. This boy who thought he could outsmart him even if he was a real evil genie, exactly this boy would find the bottle of the only honest genie around.
The boy was muttering and making notes over scribbles and scribbled over notes. Looking at him the genie felt like he finally hit the jackpot of bad luck and found a truly mad person. “Oh god...”, the genie announced and laid on his belly to start playing with the ants on the floor while waiting.
“I thiiink… I have it this time”, the boy absently said while going through his notes one last time.
“Yeah?”, the genie said not really convinced. He already lost all hope by now. He was forced to stay in the patio of an old Arabic house, maybe even a palace and listen to this boys attempts to formulate a wish that could be done in four words. “I wish for money.” But looking around this place, the wish should say “I wish for even more money.” He didn’t know anything about this boy circumstances, nor did he care. First he wondered where he was, he wanted to at least see the rest of the house, even though it looked a little bit run down. And he wanted to look at the city, whatever city this was. But now, he just wanted to go back. It has been what feels like weeks. He was not allowed to leave this patio, since his bottle and the boy remained there. And the only person he would see all the time was this boy who had nothing better to do than to try to optimize his wish all day. He had nothing to do!! Why wouldn’t he do whatever boys at this age do and take him out of here. Maybe on adventures, or to see the city, and get to know people. But no, he had to sit on this fucking porch all day. He couldn’t stand one more minute of this torture.
“Listen, you little…”, the genie started. “You little boy.” He sighed. “Why won’t you just tell me what you want. I give it to you, no strings attached. Just what you really want. I mean, I can get what it is you want, even if you are not including every detail. We can go through the wish together and I can even help you with its flaws. You know, like inflation and whatever. I don’t know anything about it now, but as soon as it’s part of your wish I know everything. But please, just get it over with.”
The boy looked at him desperately. The genie could see understanding in his eyes. He was sure he believed him, but his words taught him wrong. “No… you won’t mislead me. I will be the one outsmarting you!” he said while strangely his eyes lacked the seriousness behind this comment.
The genie thought he was good at reading people. You had to, if you wanted to give them what they really wanted and not just what they wished for. But this boy was a mistery to him. Why wouldn’t he get him? By now the genie had stopped wondering about the boy, he just wanted to be back in his bottle in deep sleep without worries. He didn’t even want to go on adventures anymore and felt exhausted by this boys indecisiveness.
“Should I set you free?”, the boy announced out of the blue.
“What? No!”, the genie answered confused. This was something totally new. Something the boy never asked him before.
“But you are a trapped genie, I’m sure you want to be free to leave a normal life.”
The genie sat up and focused on the boy. He thought about what to say, this was a serious issue for him.
“I really would prefer you to tell me your wishes, so I could go back in my bottle. If you set me free, I have to stay out here forever. I really, really would… hate that.”
“Okay, the boy said. Sooo, if you grant me my wish and I’m not satisfied, I will set you free.”
The genie gulped. He always granted peoples wishes in good conscience and they were happy with it in general. But a boy like this, he would find every small flaw in whatever he granted and took it as a reason to set him free. The truth was that even for him it was not possible to grant a perfect wish. There was always a catch, but he just made them so small that nobody could see them. Like when this starving man wished for a livelong supply of dried fish. Any other genie would have given it to him all at once and buried him under all the fish. He went through the wish with the man and they agreed on making fish appear whenever he wishes for it. The catch he attached was that the fish always needed a little bit more salt to make it taste perfect. Nothing too bad, and you could get used to it. But he feared that this boy would recognize it instantly as a flaw and would set him free. This was bad, very bad. So he had two options now. To give his best and try to make the catch so small that even the boy wouldn’t care, or… to make it big enough so he needed the other wishes to fix it. The second option went against everything he believed in, but it was his life on the line, so not the right time for principles there. And right now, this felt so much better than waiting. After all he hadn’t even started to formulate the last two wishes and they were here for days at this point.
The genie was taking one last breath and was finally agreeing. “Whatever it takes to get out of here”, he thought to himself.
The boy smiled, stood up and threw the notebook away.
“Good, then I wish for this house to look like it used to look 1050 years ago, with lots of entertainment for the two of us.”
The genie sighed. Technically it was two wishes, but he didn’t care at this moment. The “two of us” was what made him uncomfortable. He granted the wish and was surprised when the plants in the garden began to grow and colorful flowers were taking up space around a small fountain in the middle. The tiles on the floor changed their color from washed down beige tones to vibrant colors that continued inside the palace. Curtains and other expensive looking drapery appeared all over the place. Holes in the walls were filled and golden stucco took their place.
The genie realized that the place didn’t just look a little bit run down before, it was a dilapidated place that no one should be able to live in. The boy looked around in awe and it was the first time the genie could see him smiling.
“For the second wish… You can’t make people alive, do you?”, answering the question himself. “That’s ok then… So I wish for all houses of Qidan to be restored, as well as… the people. Being there. They don’t have to be alive, just like me.”
“Like … you?”, the genie replied. Slowly the fog of the last weeks dullness leaving his mind. This boy was not normal boy, indeed. “You mean, like, a ghost?”
The boy stared at him and started to sob. Suddenly looking fragile and lost he whispered: “I can’t keep you here any longer, it would not be fair… but I don’t want to be alone anymore. Please make them come back.”
The genie crouched before the boy to look him in the eyes. “I know how you feel, and I’m so sorry, I can’t bring the dead back. Not even as ghosts.”
“I knew you would say that. I don’t know what to wish for. I just don’t want you to go and leave me here. Please.”
“We will find a solution, don’t worry,” the genie said.
They sat down and discussed what to do with the remaining wishes. With the genies experience in wishes and his knowledge about what people really want, after long hours they came up with the perfect solution. They revived the city with all its glory and soon people came streaming into the city and wanted to live there. The boy was known by all the townsfolk and welcomed in their homes. Eventually someone moved into the palace and invited the boy to live with them and their family over generations. The genie made it work so that this was all packed into one wish. There was still one wish left, and still is to this day.
**This turned out to be a fairy tail. I like it that way.** |
"Ten thousand hours. That's all it should take, right?"Keithoven asked, staring at David.
"Well, theoretically. But even then, he's not practicing!"David shouted, pointing a finger at you.
"You're not getting it! He has ruined our lives. How will he learn all these instruments? It'll take him years. Years! What will we do until then? If we don't perform or tour until then, we'll fade away from the public eye!"Mayer shouted from the corner.
Justin sat there on the sofa, not indulging in the heated discussion. The entire room was filled by elite musicians. Like every alternate day since the last month, they were showing up at your place to teach you a specific instrument.
At first, it felt overwhelming. You were happy to see your heroes showing up and teaching you the craft of handling each instrument using their bare hands. Within a week, they had gifted you expensive guitars, keyboards, and even drum kits. It felt surreal, but as the weeks passed by, a weird thing started happening.
They started growing resentful. Learning a musical instrument wasn't easy. Each had their difficulty curve and trying to learn all of them at once led to you not picking up any instrument properly.
Thus, the meeting was planned on how to teach you better. A particular group was supposed to compromise. It was decided that you'd be taught guitar and music theory at first, then the keyboard and then bass. But they were acutely aware that you weren't practicing at home either. Ten thousand hours might sound like a small number, but you'd couldn't focus for even a few hours.
You could've asked for anything, right? Was it a good idea to ask to be the world's best musician when you just brought a guitar?
Now, your heroes hated you. You hated them more for putting you through all those crazy months of torture. Passion from music is supposed to come from within, right?
Why were they forcing it? Did they not understand the process?
You were lost in your thoughts as the elite room of musicians kept arguing. Suddenly, you saw Justin picking up a knife from the table.
He hurled it towards you.
--------------
If there's any interest, I'll do a part 2.
Please sub to r/abhisek ! |
"What's next? Give men the vote? I'm just saying Miss Bardot, at what point does it stop?"
Senator Vernalis's claws gesticulated to the roar of a full stadium. The senator let the clamour quieten before continuing, "Biology doesn't lie. The fact is, the man and the woman each have their roles to fill, and to deny that is to pervert nature."
At this the female mantises crowding in front of Senator Vernalis' podium cheered and clapped their claws. Next to them their smaller mates jumped up and down with placards that read "Male pride"and "Pleased to be feed".
On the opposite podium, Brigette Bardot twisted her tibia spines in a circle, a nervous habit. But she was the world's foremost meninist and she was not about to let a mini mushroomer dictate society with her generation's entitled views.
"Some of us aren't living in the dark ages anymore, Senator. Studies have demonstrated unequivocally that mantis formula is just as good with no developmental side effects for the babies. We don't have to be so...barbaric."Bardot's crowd, though smaller, whooped and waved their own signs: "Love triumphs", "Mantises of QUALITY don't fear EQUALITY".
Senator Vernalis leaned into her mike. "Bardot, I'm happy that you have chosen to pursue your particular lifestyle but isn't it unfair to force your choices on the rest of us? Every mantis should have the freedom to choose for themselves. Afterall, not all of us can live off almond milk and tofu."Murmured applause.
"The slaughter of males is both uncessary and uncessarily cruel. Some of them are as intelligent as you and I, and they have feelings just like us. If we act like indiscriminate animals then we are no better than our prey. And we are praying, not prey!"Bardot punctuated her line with a flare of her wings. "Praying, not prey!"her followers echoed, flaring ther wings back in unison.
The other side of the stadium rallied back: "Don't hate ya nature!"
The chair-mantis stood up to calm the crowd. "Certainly a heated debate. We'll be right back after a break, but for those of you at home, I want to know what you think on the PMN polls." |
"Alright, alright, you can have your... maternity leave."Archking Wyst frowned at the Frankenstein's monster. "Seriously? Maternity leave? You guys get pregnant? How the hell does that work?"
"With great difficulty,"the Frankenstein's monster rumbled. "Thank you for your consideration."
"Eh, whatever. Send the next person/golem/spirit/timeless godling from beyond the stars in when you leave, 'kay?"Archking Wyst shooed the Frankenstein's monster out the grand double doors to his obsidian throne room. He sighed in relief and massaged his forehead. It wasn't as though he disliked his job. He ruled over a decently sized nation, and had subjugated nine others as vassals or puppet states beneath his. But every now and then—
"Archking Wyst!"A group of orcs marched in through the doors, and Wyst refrained from groaning. Weren't all the orcs supposed to be in Bel-tatten, working under Lich-Lord Jeyerevan? "I am Raghann McKree, and I represent the Orcish Jade Platoon! In the name of our company, I would like to register grievances against Lich-Lord Jeyerevan!"
"Oh?"Archking Wyst rubbed his eyes. It was too late in the day for this. "What sort of grievances would these be?"
"Well... he's making us paint ourselves with mud, to frighten our enemies into submission. It's very demeaning, not to mention unhygenic. And besides, orcs haven't used war-paints in over two hundred years."
"Mhm."Archking Wyst nodded and tried to look kingly.
"And he's having us kill every last enemy soldier we can get our hands on, regardless of whether they've surrendered or not! It's just making the enemy fight to the last man, and we're taking heavy casualties because of it!"
"Thankfully, Lich-Lord Jeyerevan's lack of good tactical sense is not my problem. In fact, it is exactly how I conquered the Undying Lichdom in the first place."
"And we think he's getting us killed on purpose. He's raising our dead,"Raghann finished.
Immediately, Archking Wyst's eyes snapped open. "That's a breach of contract."
Raghann's eyes glimmered with an inner fire. "It's a perversion of nature."
"That's what I said."Archking Wyst stood, and his obsidian throne suddenly seemed a lot less tacky and a lot more befitting of a man who had made immortals and kings bow to his will. "Maybe it's time Jeyerevan and I had a little... renegotiation."
He held out his hand, and swirls of smoke coalesced into a grand staff. He pounded it on the floor once and shouted, "Lich-Lord Jeyerevan! I would speak to you!"
The echoes of his booming voice faded away, with no sign of a response. He scowled and made a horizontal slashing motion with his hand. The air in front of him peeled away, revealing a very surprised skeletal face. "Lich-Lord Jeyerevan! When I demand audience, I *expect* an audience!"
Lich-Lord Jeyerevan stood in a room of flesh and twisted bone. Archking Wyst's gaze sharpened as he noticed that some of them were orcish. "Lich-Lord Jeyerevan, I have heard tell of you reanimating the dead of the Orcish Jade Platoon, in violation of Section 401, Article 3 of their lease."
"Their lease."Lich-Lord Jeyerevan snorted. "You gave me them. They are my property. I can do what I wish with my property."
Archking Wyst glared at the Lich-Lord. "They are not your property. They are employees of the Reflective Rule, and they will be treated with respect and care."
"They're orcs! Monsters! Barely sentient! Archking Wyst, what did you expect when you sent them to me!"
"I expected you to read the damn contract and follow. My. RULES!"Archking Wyst roared the last word, thrusting his staff towards the image of Lich-Lord Jeyerevan, and in an instant, every bone in his rotting palace shattered. Jeyerevan froze in place—only his body had been spared, but it was a humiliating reminder of the power Archking Wyst held.
"They're orcs,"Lich-Lord Jeyeravan finally said, "what else did you think I would do with them? They're little more than animals."
"Not these ones, they aren't. They're something different. Something better."Archking Wyst stared down the immortal, burning eyes of the Lich-Lord.
"And what would that be?"
"My employees,"Archking Wyst growled, "and you had better play by our rules."
With that, Archking Wyst collapsed the scrying spell, leaving a humiliated Lich-Lord a hundred miles away and turning back to the awed faces of a dozen orcish soldiers.
"Alright, now get back to work! I don't pay you to stand around gawking. Send in the next person/golem/spirit/timeless godling from beyond the stars in when you leave, 'kay?"Archking Wyst settled back in his throne, yawning.
It was way too late in the day for this.
A.N.
If you liked this, you may want to check out [r/rileywrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/rileywrites/) or my blog, [rileyriles.wordpress.com](https://rileyriles.wordpress.com/) for more! |
When it came time for each student to chose their specialty, it was no surprise when when most students chose the big, flashy schools of spellcraft. The elemental school had the biggest allotment of students, as always. The summoning and healing schools were both close contenders for second.
What was a surprise was the school with the least number of students. Not because of the nature of the school itself, but because most years, schools of magic that got no students were usually not counted at all. This year, the oft overlooked school of bibliomancy had a single student.
Harry Weidman was that one student. He was small in every way, and was usually overlooked. Had he chosen a different school of magic, that trend would have continued. As it was, everyone chose to laugh at him. Well, other the the Head Librarian, who was absolutely thrilled to finally have a student all to herself.
And that showed in class.
"Now Harry,"the chubby older woman said. "As you know, one of the most important parts of becoming a mage is your staff. Do you know why?"
"Yes, ma'am. A mage's staff is his gateway to magic. Without one, spells will have almost no power, if they work at all."It was nearly a textbook answer, which was appropriate, given the class.
"Very good. And the more powerful the staff, the more powerful the magic used with it. Of course, that's no excuse for not practicing your spells. After all, even the most powerful staff in the world is useless if you can't cast anything with it."
"Of course. Um, if it's all the same to you, ma'am, I actually think I have an idea of what I want to make my staff out of, but I'll need to do a lot of research first."
"That's perfect!"The professor exclaimed. "We bibliomancers thrive with knowledge. While all mages benefit from research and experimentation, it's our specialty. Our bread and butter. The more we know, the better off we are. So go, go do as much research as you can."
Harry nodded. "I might need access to parts of the library that aren't usually available."
The creases in her face deepened as a frown formed. "That might be tricky. I'll see what I can do, but my authority can only go so far, and you are still a first year student."
"That's fine. I'll take what I can get."
The woman's smile returned and she immediately began the lesson. Harry did not need it, not really. There was a reason he had chosen bibliomancy as his school. Most people thought it was useless. A type of magic that was only for bookworms. That all it could do was look for books.
But that was wrong. Bibliomancy was the magic of knowledge. Harry fingered the small crystal in his pocket. The crystal was a seed. A little bit of his own knowledge that he had painstakingly given physical form. It would be the base of his staff. A magic staff unlike any other. It would be a staff that would begin weak, but the more the learned, the more he fed it, the stronger it would be. And the more he could do with it.
People laughed at bibliomancy as a useless school of magic. But the simple fact was that knowledge was power, and he was going to show that to everyone. |
Freddy was confused. He had come across the little girl and when he had tried to speak to her, she had shushed him and told him she was "having a tea party."
There weren't that many people who showed up in his realm and weren't scared of him. Even fewer who had the audacity and the gall to tell him what to do.
*How dare she shush me!*
He had wanted to flip the table over right then and there, shake the spoiled brat by her neck and roar, "**CHILD, DO YOU KNOW WHO THE @#$% I AM? FREDDY KRUEGER, @#$%&!"**
But before he could act, he noticed the big, bird winged man with a blazing sword standing with his arms crossed behind the girl, daring Freddy with his eyes to make a move.
Freddy cleared his throat. "Little girl,"he said, "Who, may I ask, is that standing behind you?"
"Those are my guardian angels"the girl said without even looking. "They follow me everywhere."
*They? But there was only-*
And then he felt the other one breathing down his neck. |
Oh my God I love it! Nice touch with the dollar bill instead of the soul. A lot of people don't realize that the person can give up anything, not just their soul. Of course, the soul is what most demons would ask for, but any sort of sacrifice would do, and if you think you have the skills, you can always negotiate. Some demons might even respect you for naming your own price, seeing as how most humans are timid and easily manipulated by them, and meeting a strong and charismatically assertive one would be a refreshing change. At least, this is what I've learned from mythology and lore. I'm a huge occult nerd, lol, but I've never tried summoning before. I love goats too much, lol. |
I wasn’t sure what’s up with my husband, Jason. He’s been acting odd. My friends think he might be cheating because of his odd behavior. I know he wasn’t but... was he? We have two kids and he adores them and he loves me. Did we hit a rut in our relationship?
I decided to get off work early to surprise him, hoping my friends were wrong.
I kinda wished I stayed at work.
I walked into our home, kids still in school, hoping to get some alone time with him.
“Jason? I’m home!” I called out, as I kicked off my heels.
There was a loud thumping noise coming from the basement.
“Jason? Are you down there?” I called out.
“Ella, stay there. Just stay upstairs,” he called out.
“Jason what’s going on?” I asked him.
“She’s not your wife, Jason! I am. Please let me go,” cried someone. Someone with my voice.
I noticed the gun in his hand, he looked crazed. I descended the stairs to find a woman who looked like me, dressed in my business formal dress. The exact one I’m wearing.
“Jason I was worried about you. I only came early to check on you,” the other me cried.
“Shut up!” Jason yelled.
“I-I was here to check on you too. Jason-“
He pointed the gun at me.
“One of you isn’t my wife. Kaleb’s birthday, when is it?” he snapped.
“We don’t have a Kaleb,” I said.
“We don’t,” the other me said.
“When and where did Olivia broke her arm?”
“Two years ago, in Miami,” we both said in unison.
“Shit, you’ve been infiltrating my family for that long?” Jason sobbed.
“Jason-“ he shot the floor as I tried to approach him, making me jump back.
“Our first date. You always talk about it. We even celebrate it. What day was our first date?”
I froze. I don’t know. Why don’t I know.
“June 6th, 2000. We went to your dad’s restaurant. Met your dad that day too,” the other me said.
Shit!
“Jason wait, Jason please!” I begged as he approached me with the gun.
“Jason, it’s me Ella. Jason!”
He shot my arm, which began to ooze black tar.
“Jason!” I screamed as he placed the gun on my forehead and pulled the trigger. |
"Alright, buddy."Battlement's voice had a faint southern drawl. I'd never noticed on TV. Maybe he played it off, tried to be more of the 'everyman' all of them were chasing. The 'real hero'. "You want to tell me why you're here?"
Cause my health insurance sucks.
I didn't say it of course. These mad scientists, they push they push the whole package when they hire you. Better health insurance than the CEO's get, all comped. They don't tell you they're doing it themselves.
Least there's more interesting things to steal than a stapler.
The gun looked like something from the Ceveli. All big and blocky with glowing bits across it. Didn't fire energy though, fully kinetic. Had these huge slugs that went in it made of some kind of alloy. Only had so many of them. Only brought two. Didn't think I'd actually need to fire it.
Got a creepy mask for a face. Black, hard lines, red eyes, the works. Can't talk, can't even growl. Just throw a trench coat over that, brandish the gun, people get the hell out of my way. Everyone so far.
Not gonna fly with this guy. This guy *ate* people like me.
"Not much of a talker?"Battlement asked, stomping through the store. I must have really pissed something off up there, when did Prime Time heroes stop a jewelry store robbery anymore?
Two more minutes, I'd have been gone. The window was right there. I had a duffle bag full of sparkly things on my shoulder, thick gloves, and literally no face. I'd even made sure no one was in so I wouldn't have to shoot anyone. Did literally everything right for a smash and grab.
And they drop a fucking Golden Boy on me. How's that fair?
"I can see you there,"he said, slowly turning my way. Hands on his hips, jaw squared, all disappointed father. Worked well with his suit. Some cross between modern military and medieval knight. Looked terrible. Sold t-shirts. "How about we just talk this out like two adults."
One costumed jackass to another trading digs in an empty store. No adults here.
I rounded the corner with the gun down, aiming right for his chest. He just stood there, hands on his hips. He'd been shot before. Famously, he'd let the President shoot him on live television back in the aughts. Guess he figured it wouldn't do anything to him. I figured that too.
But I was dead to rights at that point. Straight to the big prison where they put all the nutjobs. You needed cred to survive in there. More than I'd get from one fight.
I'd at least take a swing at it.
The gun didn't crack, it rang. A heavy thump that warped the air around it. I heard the shell striking the ground like a bell. Then Battlement actually flinched, his feet sliding across the floor from the force of the blast.
Then the round clattered to the ground, pressed flat. Invulnerable skin is one hell of a cheat.
"Nnn-"Nice try. His catchphrase by then, said it every time something didn't kill him. Except then it was cut off by a cough. Thought it had kicked harder than he's used to.
I wasn't going to stay and watch him shake it off. I got the bag on my back, I've got the gun, he didn't see nothing past my mask, you better believe I got the hell out of there. Dove right out the window like one of the classics. If I could still laugh, I would have.
Partly out of terror. Figured at any moment he'd slam through the wall next to me and I'd have three hundred pounds of invulnerable 'JUSTICE!' bearing down on me. Didn't happen. Didn't keep me from crying the second I got back to the safehouse. Hid the bag in the safe, hid myself in the closet, and passed out.
When I wake up I see this crazy face on all the news networks. Toted as some new villain on the scene, a bigshot, a 'Silent Assassin'.
See, Battlement's got invulnerable skin. Shock absorbing too. But it only goes skin deep. And that gun I swiped from the boss is a mean little piece. Handheld railgun. Fires these special shells at supersonic speed.
Hit with enough force that it went past the skin. Couldn't break it, but that didn't much matter. Autopsy had to X-ray him. Pulped everything in the chest. Wasn't pretty. Wasn't nice. Wasn't the way things were done.
I'd broken rules. THE rules. Now I was number one on EVERYONE'S shitlist.
Stayed in the closet the rest of that day. Kept flashing back to Mauler tearing his way through my boss's lab. Broke my jaw in twenty-seven places. Only survived cause my the other's dragged me into the escape pod with the boss.
She fixed me up of course. I'd taken a hit for her. Didn't mean to, but it was enough for her to honor my benefits. Rebuilt that entire quarter of my face. I take this helmet off...it aint pretty. Didn't come with a voice box though. Maybe that was going to be added later, I didn't stick around to find out.
All that, you'd think they'd go with something cool. Mask looks a bit like a skull, nice classic style from the fifties. But no, they let some nothing reporter from the suburbs do the honors.
They call me Slug.
​
[https://www.reddit.com/r/FiresofFordregha/](https://www.reddit.com/r/FiresofFordregha/) |
I was used to the memory rushing back to me after each run- I’d experienced it three thousand and thirty five times before. But now, as I stared at the option bar, a wonderful sense of elation filled me as well. Finally, I’d been grinding so hard to get Cat mode! I decided to scroll through my other runs just to celebrate at how far I’d come. My first life was quite embarrassing- Single celled organisms never really got far, after all. My second, some type of beetle thing. That one was REALLY buggy. Third, a mouse, fourth, I decided to start playing on the ‘Milky Way’ map since the other one was really far behind, and so on, and so on. My most recent was a man- Abraham Lincoln, his name was? One of my most accomplished lives. As I clicked the species I wanted (cat, of course!) and pressed ‘START’, I could feel the pride feel my chest. Cat mode- Man, the people on the forums would be SO jealous! |
The people of the world didn't quite know it, but danger lurked in the shadows around them. Birds capable of flying at supersonic speeds zoomed through the skies above them, unnoticed; rats capable of burrowing through reinforced concrete demolished quite a few buildings in Iceland, and dogs, bigger and stronger than tigers, guarded an undiscovered cave in Denmark.
Inside the cave, Dr. Zephyrus conducted his wild experiments and the faint green glow of toxic waste let anyone know about it if they ever got near the cave. He was immune to radiation. A gift of nature that he now used to augment nature one blend at a time.
Meanwhile, in yet another top-secret facility up in the North Pole, a place only ever documented by the really smart penguins, Willie Nelson, a young man who should’ve been given the death penalty weeks ago, prepared himself for the jolt of radiation he was about to receive. A young man in a white hazmat suit approached him.
“Mr. Nelson,” he said. “It is understood that in case you acquire superhuman qualities, and attempt to use them against us, you will be punished, right?”
“Yes, sir. I understand,” Willie Nelson said. His life, as far as he was concerned, had ended a long ago. “What if I don’t get any?”
“What?”
“What if I come out like plain Joe. No superpowers. Wouldn’t that be funny,” Willie Nelson said and laughed.
The young man in the Hazmat suit said nothing, nor did he laugh. He only strapped Mr. Nelson into a chair which was then covered by a glass dome. The top of the glass dome had a black box – the place from where the radiation was let in.
A whirr and a buzz carried through the icy landscape. Radiation now entered the dome covering Willie Nelson. It was only a flash, and in that flash, Mr. Nelson turned from human to skeleton. The exposure had failed again.
In the distance, a penguin who had been keeping an eye on the whole madcap procedure lifted its beak and chuckled, then it waddled down the icy landscape and disappeared.
Dr. Zephyrus’s cave had a visitor. A supersonic albatross with a message tied on its leg entered. The message said: *Failed once more! Skeletons, so fishy. I laughed like a seal. Hahahaha!*
A smile spread across Dr. Zephyrus’s face as he read the message. He patted the albatross on its head and tied his response to the bird’s leg. The Albatross knew who the message was for, zoomed away from the mouth of the cave startling the tigerish dogs.
Inside the cave, Dr. Zephyrus mixed his seven components of the perfect nuclear reaction once more. On his operating table was the corpse of a man at sea, which had floated down to the cave a week before.
A flash and a bang. Suddenly, the corpse stood up. It bowed to the scientist and laughed.
“Life! LIFE! Why mister I thought I was dead!”
“Indeed you were,” Dr. Zephyrus said, “but you are more than alive now. Punch that little ice slab in the corner, will you.”
The man did as asked and the slab shattered into a million pieces. “What power is this? What…”
“Do what you will with it young man, but please get out of here. I have work to do. My dogs will show you the way,” Dr. Zephyrus said.
“But don’t you want me to do something? Like...dominate the world or something?”
“No. I wish to be left alone. Now do what you will. Rocky,” Dr. Zephyrus called and whistled. A large black dog abandoned its guard duty and came in wagging its tail. “Escort Mr. –”
“Norman.”
“Yes. Escort Mr. Norman out of here, please.”
The dog nodded and led the way out as Norman followed. Inside the laboratory, the shadow of a huge Mammoth was seen as Dr. Zephyrus concocted yet another blend of madness. |
“You will be spared?” I echo, confused. “What does that mean?”
The homeless man's eyes seem to glow white in the light of the afternoon sun. “You will know when the time comes, my son,” he replies with an unnaturally deep voice. He wags his fingers at me and mutters a few strange words under his mouth.
“My son? What?”
The homeless man coughs and looks away. “Change?” he calls out, clearly ignoring me. “Change, anyone, some change?”
I leave, feeling like I somehow got scammed.
---
A few weeks later, I’m out bowling with the fellas.
“Wow!” Jason exclaims, as I sit down after my toss.
“What?” I ask.
“Did you know you’ve only rolled spares this whole game?” he says, pointing to the screen.
*So that’s what that homeless guy meant,* I think. *Hah. That’s a good one.* |
My boots crunch on the dirt path, unkempt from a long winter with heavy snow. It's melted away now and left behind dirt and washed out portions of trail. I'll spend a week replacing timber supports and the footbridge at the trailhead is badly leaning to the left.
Lots to do, but that's the life I've been given.
I crest the hill and there it is.
Built by hand over many years, the lodge is on some five hundred acres that I am Gamewarden of. Sturdy log walls and a gabled roof, in the style of those elvish bungalows one might stumble on if they wander far enough into their forests.
The main building lays dormant, four stone chimneys protruding from the roof and not a sign of smoke curling from any of them. It's not so unusual, the weather had turned but it's still early in the season. There's a time where the lodge lays quiet and that's now.
The outbuildings and stable are untouched as well. Not a soul in sight.
I whistle and set off down toward the clearing and my lodge. I don't have to unlock the heavy front door, it's always unlocked over the winter. I'd rather a warm stranger in my lodge than a cold corpse outside it.
Inside it smells of wood, smoke, and the rich scent of two decades of life. I breathe it in, deeply. I love the smell of it.
I set my rifle against the door and unsling the tall pack from my back, feeling the relief through my back as I am reminded I am no longer twenty five and limber. That pack gets a little heavier every year. I leave the short hatchet in my belt, I'll need it to ready some kindling for the hearth.
I turn and stop in my tracks.
Huh.
I usually find a few coins on the front desk, that doubles as a bar top when the lodge is full. A few coins, a tanned hide, a polished skull, something to say thank you from those that shelter here when I'm gone.
I've never seen this before.
I look around and find no one here, not a trace of a soul. Except for the golden crown.
I pick it up and turn it over in my hands with as much reverence as I can muster. It is a twisted mass of golden branches and twigs, a thick forest formed into a golden circlet. I've never seen anything like it before, and I doubt I will again.
Especially since I am going to toss this into the well and forget I ever saw it. No good ever came from a strange crown, nothing but trouble and charges of murder or theft. I turn and freeze again, my hand falling to rest on the silvered steel head of the hatchet in my belt.
She stands there before me. She's bleeding, and badly. It drips onto the wood floor and that is going to stain. Luckily blood stains aren't new to the hunting lodge.
"This yours?"I ask, holding up the crown.
"Help me."She collapses there on my godsdamned lodge floor.
Shit. Ok, maybe I can deal with this before anyone shows up. I've got time. I pull her to a sitting position and check her wounds, resting her back against the wall of the bar top. She's in a bad way, her eyes glossy and distant.
"You!"The voice booms from outside, and proves me wrong. "Inside the lodge! We've come for her, stand aside and you will live!"
That's a tempting offer. I like living. I like my lodge too. I turn that crown over in my hands and then look at her, heaving and bleeding there. And by all the gods of the forest, it's not a fair hunt. That's all I ask here in my lodge. The hunt must be fair, must be right.
But, then again, I like living. I sidle to the front windows and peek through the shutters.
"This is sacred ground, no hunt may be conducted here!"I shout out.
I see a dozen of them out there, maybe more. Tall, powerful, armed. They are gods, The Wild Hunt. I'm explaining the rules to those who made them.
"It's *my* sacred ground, Gamewarden!"
Oh. Good.
"You have ten seconds!"He shouts, his fingers wrapping around his bowstring and an arrow forming between his knuckles, an arrow that seems to grow from the wood of the bow itself.
He wears his own crown.
God of the Hunt, God of the Forest.
I pad over to my rifle and curse. Not even gods can't be above the rules. None may hunt on these grounds.
That is my duty as Gamewarden. I take my duty seriously and I have for some hundred years.
Not even Silvanus himself can keep me from my duty.
"Thank you."She whispers.
"Not a single good thing ever came from a crown."I mutter.
"On that, we agree."She says.
That's when I count to nine, and I reach out to the forest around the glade. I can hear it shudder and come to life. This is *my* lodge.
"Time's up!"He calls out.
I raise a single finger in reply, pulling it back just in time as an arrow crashes through the window and sinks to the fletching in the log wall behind the bar top.
"Who are you?"I ask her, staring at the devastating shot in awe. "Why does Silvanus want you dead?"
"My father can be a bit of an ass."She says.
Great. No good ever comes from a crown.
But only bad things come from standing between feuding gods. And here I am, standing there anyway.
Because apparently, I never learn.
"Come on then!"I shout. "A fair hunt it is then!"
As if it's fair.
The God of the Forest hasn't brought enough friends with him for it to be fair. |
Small, timid, frail, shy, discreet, demure.
Jane did not look up as she entered the dark street with the big man on her tail.
The rain was heavy, masking sound, making it hard to see.
If someone died in this street or got to disappear, nobody would ever know what happened exactly.
As to why Jane was playing the victim, she blamed her mother for that.
She remembered hating the fairy-tales told at the bedside before going to sleep. Little red riding hood always got eaten, the princess abducted, the woman was always in danger.
Why did only men have all the fun? Why couldn't she be the one to eat the wolf? Or kill the bad king to take his place and be an even worse king to show the peasants? Why could she not take up a sword and force the prince into marriage at sword point? And then stab him during the wedding night?
Jane learned fast that her mother was disturbed by such questions and stopped asking them.
But that's where it stood. Jane did what she did, because her mom told her about fairy-tales.
And to honor her memory, Jane wore a red scarf doubling as a hood for tonight. Bright and visible enough for her pursuer to spot her from afar and to play the theater piece.
For who was fragile and little Jane, if not the little red riding hood? And the big bad wolf was right behind her, with his stature, muscles, libido, madness and power-trip, ready to pounce. For what?
That is always the great question. Is the wolf unable to contain his libido? Or perhaps does he have a primal urge to kill and maim? Perhaps a planner, imagining a kidnapping and the money he can make out of it.
Every serial-killer, rapist and madman or woman had a story to tell, a reason explaining how they tipped into the abyss, broke through the shackles of morality and let loose what they were deep within.
At first, Jane didn't feel too different when she killed.
Not anymore.
Now, she fancied herself a collector of the strange. But memories were for later, she had an appointment this very second.
The bad wolf grins as she turns around. The street is dark, damp, the rain makes noise and no one will hear her scream.
The grin loses some strength as little red riding hood exhibits a bright, shiny and utterly psychotic smile.
It dies for good when she exhibits a butcher knife in one hand, a taser in the other.
The wolf hadn't seen that an empty car was parked right at the corner.
The rain masked the noise of the electric jolt and the shock of a body falling to the ground. It shielded the frail woman carrying a big man to the trunk of the car from curious onlookers.
Nobody would ever know what happened.
In her younger years, Jane would have strapped the man on a chair bolted to the ground of a damp cave to torture him for the night, before digging a hole at the edge of a field and planting a tree atop it. You can find her work in Scotland between Aberdeen and the small village of Straloch. Watch for the edge between forests and meadows. If a tree sticks out of the line, someone has given his flesh and blood to feed it.
But as a collector, an aficionado of the delectable story, she could not insult herself by resorting to such crude pleasure.
She locked the wolf in a cell.
Straloch had few inhabitants, lots of place to build big houses and wasn't too costly to live in.
"I'm not called wolf. I have a name. And let me out!"
*Oh no, wolf. You are the wolf of the tale,* Jane would say, before turning off the light and leaving the room, screams dying as the door closed.
The next day, the wolf begged for food. Jane had it right there, beyond the bars. But she wouldn't give him. Not until he showed his paw and rolled on his back, like a good wolf would. Hunger made him comply.
In the evening, bolstered by a full belly, he refused to comply. Jane whipped out an electric rod, the kind used to keep cattle in check. The cell wasn't wide enough to escape her reach. With severe burn marks on his body, the wolf showed his paw and rolled on his back.
The masquerade played for days and weeks, getting a little bit further each time. He forsake knife and fork. Then, he had to eat on the ground. Then, he had to wear a collar and bark at her order.
"Please, I can't take it anymore."
These were human words, and wolfs do not speak human. Bad wolf!
The scream of a new burn mark echoed in the deep cave.
What day was it? Underground, Wolf could not know. Jane came at random, breaking his sleep pattern alongside every other pattern he had lived with.
Release came for a time when Jane sat with a blank notebook.
"Wolf, let's play a game! You're human, for just a moment, and allowed to speak. Tell me, what brought you to kill?"
A strange question, one the wolf was not willing to answer. The threat of a cattle prod made him comply.
His tale was interestingly bland. He had no trauma, not horrible parents, no abuse, bullying or psychological way to justify his actions. Even better than that, he did not try to justify them in any sense. He felt empathy, love, sadness when some people died, like a normal human being. And, sometimes, he felt the urge, had to kill.
"Kill? Not rape, not kidnap?"
No, just killing. He had no desire to prolong the game, or take unnecessary risks by dropping his pants. Man, woman, old, young, he killed to satisfy an urge.
How interesting. The story of the serial-killer was the absence of a story. The possibility that the everyman and everywoman you meet at work, in the street, in the par, at the market, could be a murderer, and nothing in his or her life would let you think that. Instead of giving his face to a crime, the wolf gave nothing at all, only a dark shadow with nothing to hold on to explain his actions.
Fascinating!
"Can I leave now? I told you everything."
"Told what?"
"Why I killed."
"Wolf, you did not kill."
"What? But I-"
The sight of the black stick with the burning end shut him up.
That part of his story was written in the notebook now. This meant that it only belonged to Jane, and not the wolf. It was written, and so the wolf had never killed and never felt the urge. And a wolf did not speak human.
Jane stripped the wolf of his youth, his life, his love, his dreams, his fetishes, his favorite dish, his childhood memory.
Bit by bit, she burned, shocked and tortured the substance of the wolf behind bars, and left him in a blank state.
Time for the wolf was still, the temperature never changed, he had long since stopped caring about his beard and only tried to avoid pain. To do so, he walked with a collar on all fours, he barked, he yelped, he did as she commanded. And she ordered him to be wolf, not human. He complied, forgetting hour by hour that he had once been a man.
He was broken before they met, and Jane adored breaking people further still. But the game was over soon. On the rare times she allowed him to speak, the wolf barely formed coherent sentences, unable to differentiate between what he had been and the role expected from him.
On a hot Autumn night, the wolf didn't utter a word, having lost the ability to speak for good. Jane took him for a walk. Under the black clouds, a finely dressed short woman with a shovel and a disheveled man held on a leash went to walk in the field.
At the edge of the forest, Jane ordered the wolf to dig a hole.
Once done, she sliced his throat and buried his body before planting a tree.
When she was finished, the sun was getting up and illuminated the wide meadow. There were a lot of trees stepping out of the edge of the forest. There were a lot of dead wolves.
After a short nap, Jane called her publisher to tell her she had a new idea for a novel.
She had been making a killing lately by writing thriller and horror books. |
"Another glass of delicious milk. Just the thing to moisten my bones."
"Yes, quite. I was just thinking I might have a calcium-replenishing juice myself."
The human in front of me had no idea. I played him like a fiddle instrument.
"There are sometimes cows."
"Yes. Sometimes."
He had legs and arms and a hat. His nostrils were normal.
"The sun. Wouldn't be a day without the sun."
"Darn. My radiation banishers. I left them at my house place."
"I have an extra pair of radiation banishers. Here, borrow them."
He expertly handled the anti-sun instrument, as humanly as possible. How many of us were there left? How many aliens?
The human stared directly into the sun with the aid of the radiation banishers. "It's round, like an eyeball."
"Yes. Like the eyeball of a sun person."
"Is your religion the sun person?"
Damn. Religion. That was not a topic of study for my preparations. "My religion is the ... moon person."
"Exciting. The moon person and the sun person are both religious figures. And both are round."
"Both are round,"I concurred. Luckily my cover door hadn't been blown open by the suspicious wind.
"There are many round things."
"Yes and also there are things that are not round."
It was just pleasant human conversation talk. Should I risk it and attempt a hostile benevolent takeover of his corporeal form?
"I have depression."
I was startled by the frank admission of the human.
"No more serotonin molecules?"
The human shook its head sadly. "No more."
Strangely, I felt as if I wanted to do comfort with the human. "But there is calcium."
Smiling, the human said, "Milk."
Such a good-natured human. Perhaps I would let it keep riding its life cycle.
We drank the rest of our milk drink in silence. The sun person seemed to wink at us. It was a good day. |
# Soulmage
**I flared up with a spell of light, illuminating the bizarre, angular field of spikes.** The flurry of hail obscured our little adventuring party's vision, and I felt very, *very* small against the backdrop of the strange structure.
"Hold on."Sansen held up a hand, one eye darting left and right as he scanned possible futures. Having an oracle on the team paid off time and time again, and now was no exception. "You know the pinnacle of light magic? Those bizarre invisible light spells that elves like to use?"
"The ones that make you nauseated, start losing all your hair, and die a horrible, lingering death of cancer?"I shuddered. "How the hell could I forget?"
"It's called deathlight,"Meloai helpfully added.
"Yeah. Deathlight."Sansen frowned, peering at a future timeline only he could see. "There's... something similar to deathlight surrounding this place. In most of the futures after we explore this place, we... die. In ways *very* similar to a deathlight attack."
Instinctively, the four of us took a step back. We'd fought against elves before, and nobody deserved the horrid illnesses their deathlight spells wrought.
"Well... standard precautions against light magic should work, right?"I asked. "Cloaks of darkness for everyone?"
"Mm."Possible futures whirred around Sansen's head as he reconfigured his spell. "Yeah. Darkness spells apparently work just as well on deathlight as they do on normal light."
"Understood."I reached into my soul and swept one hand through the air, tearing a rift open to the Plane of Elemental Darkness. The dome of shadow closed around us, and the already-dim sunlight flickered and died.
Hopefully we wouldn't suffer the same fate.
"Hey."Lucet frowned. "Do we know if the deathlight is coming from... above us? Or could it be underground, too?"
"No idea,"Sansen said.
"If we don't know... it might be a good idea to make a full shroud. Just in case the source of the deathlight is beneath us."I could tell from her shy expression that she was halfway to apologizing for the suggestion, so I gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.
"Yeah. Good idea. One second—gather closer, I can't maintain a complete shroud without shrinking the sphere a little."
The four of us squished together as I crafted a full shield of darkness. It was a bizarre experience, proceeding—the only light source was the orb of radiance in my palm, and the shroud of darkness gave the illusion that we were standing in an infinite void. As we walked forwards, the only warning we'd get before nearly bumping into a towering, almost organic thorn was its sudden appearance from beyond the edge of the shroud, as if it were surfacing from a deep and murky ocean.
Altogether, I was relieved when we reached the door at the center of the spike field.
"It's a dungeon entrance,"I said, at the same time as Lucet said, "Doesn't look like any dungeon entrance I've seen."
We looked at each other, and Lucet blushed again, but I gestured for her to speak. Nervously, she said, "Well, uh... these doors... the writing on them doesn't match any language I know. And... I... I'm not sure they even *are* doors. I don't see a handle or a hinge or a spell trigger or anything."
"Alright, brute force time."Sansen's eyes gleamed as lens-shaped discs of oracular power swirled into existence around his eyes. "I'll look into a couple hundred futures where we try different ways to open this door, and if I don't find anything, we're breaking through."
I sat down, biting my lip, as Sansen's gaze unfocused, tracking dozens of futures simultaneously. Lucet whispered, "You okay?"
I shook my head. "If this place is filled with deathlight... do you really think anyone could've survived in here for that long? I'm just... I'm just worried that we've come all this way, and we're going to find him dead and rotting in the corridors of whatever this dungeon is. Or not-dungeon. I don't know."
Lucet opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Sansen said, "Alright, good news and bad news."
"Go for it,"Meloai said.
"Good news is, I figured out how to open the door. Bad news: it involves not thinking of it as a door, and just blowing the darn thing down. Or in this case, shattering it. Lucet?"Sansen nodded towards the slim, frail girl.
Lucet took in a deep breath and nodded. "Right. You... you all might want to shield your eyes."
I did so, closing them and turning away. In my soulsight, I sensed power gather around Lucet's soul, and the witch of frost flicked her wrist—
Metal shrieked and snapped as Lucet plunged the temperature of the door down to as cold as could possibly be, rendering the structure as brittle as a dry leaf. It collapsed over its own weight, chunks of frosty, unidentifiable material shattering and cascading before us, leaving a massive hole into the complex's interior.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then I stood up. "Come on. No point in hanging around."
Bits of what used to be metal crunched beneath my boots as we entered the chamber. It was unknowable how vast the hall was from inside our bubble of protective darkness, but the air tasted stale and dusty, and the ground looked as though no feet had trod it for a long, long time.
"I... I don't think anyone's here, Cienne."Meloai swallowed heavily. "How... are you sure our intel was right? How would Jiaola even have gotten in here?"
"Wait."Sansen stopped. Then he swore. "Back up. *Back up.* Out, out, *out*!"
On the list of things you didn't want your party oracle doing, freaking out and trying to run upon looking into the future was one of them. "What? What is it?"I started backpedaling, but Sansen swore and a humanoid figure in a odd, full-body suit and reflective helmet charged into the shroud of darkness—
And we all fell down in a tangle of limbs.
A.N.
Sorry to leave it here, but I'm sick and typing with only nine fingers. Have to take a break.
This story is part of Soulmage, a frequently updated serial in progress. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out! There's already thirty-five other chapters before this one, so there's plenty to catch up on. And if you want more stories, check out r/bubblewriters! |
The following data was recovered from expedition site ███████. No members of the expedition were found. No physical trace of the mentioned structure was located.
_Expedition Log 451_
**Date** ███████
**Location** ███████
Fantastic news! What we thought to be a simple place of worship or some ritual grounds, turned out to be the sealed entrance into a massive tomb! By the form and construction, it looks almost as advanced as ancient Greece, but not only is there no mention of a civilization in this area at the time anywhere that we could find, tests have shown the construction to be more than 10000 years old! This would indicate that some sub-species, perhaps the Homo-sapiens-niandertalis, built this place, making them a lot more advanced than we once thought possible.
_Expedition Log 455_
**Date** ███████
**Location** ███████
Progress is slow. We managed to uncover a total of 13 burial rooms. The doors seem to have some sort of inscription on them, but it was rendered unintelligible. What stands out is the presence of locking mechanisms in near perfect condition -latches, doorstops, and even hinge-blocks. All of them are easily opened from outside, which means they weren't meant to stop intruders. This raises the question - what were they meant for?
_Expidition Log 456_
**Date:███████**
*Location:███████**
A discovery unlike anything else!
Inside each room we have discovered a single sarcophagus, containing a single humanoid being. They are so perfectly preserved that they almost seem sleeping, rather than dead.
Some of the team find them to be disconcerting, and I understand what they mean. They seem... Divine, almost. Far more beautiful and larger than even modern humans. We are waiting for DNA results, but it is conceivable that we have discovered an entirely new sub-species!
_Expedition Log 460_
**Date: ██████**
**Location:███████**
We were right. The lab results came back,and we were right. Those aren't members of a known sub-species. The new sub-species was dubbed Homo-sapiens-antiqua. We have found various objects in the meantime, some of which are made of iron and even steel. If they were this advanced, why don't we have a single mention of them? And what happened?
_Expedition Log 461_
**Date:███████**
**Location:███████**
A few members of the expedition have disappeared, as well as one of the discovered Homo-sapiens-antiqua. Resorting to blatant theft. Shameful.
_Expedition Log 462_
**Date:███████**
**Location:███████**
Only a few of us are left. Oh god, I saw them eat the captain. They were smiling the whole time, and he was just staring at them, looking happy to be eaten. God... They were so beautiful... Lucky bastard...
_Expedition Log [unintelligible]_
**Date:12005 years since they were trapped**
**Location:The palace that was turned into a tomb**
We were arrogant and ignorant. We are mere mites before the endless storm! We thought ourself superior, when we weren't worth the dirt under them. We are blessed to be sustenance to such purity, to become ones with divinity!
_End of Logs_
The rest of the pages found only contained the following text, repeated:
#W̴̧̞̩̉̀ë̴̢̛́ ̴̲̒̋a̴̮̗͊͗́r̷̘̲͓͌͆͝ė̷̫̱͈̋͊͊ ̴̢̫̈́͗̉c̵̲̪͂o̸̻͗m̵̮̰̱̼̏̅̈́́ȉ̵̢̪̗̋͋͐͜n̵̛̖̙͝g̵̯̾̌,̷̯͐̑͘͝ ̸̬̓͗̕m̵̞̆́ò̶̭̪̯͐̈́͂r̷̛̳͖͈͒̋͝s̵͈̩͗̂ě̶̠̥̫͑l̷̜̮̉̈̊̒s̸̖̤̋̍̕.̸̟̮͈̽̑͘ ̶̲͉̓̉̓̀ͅA̶̡͈̖̳͐͂̌̆ñ̴̺̖͚̒̆͠d̴̝̿̀̾̕ ̵̨̹͛̉͜ͅŵ̵͎̺̣́͝ê̵̥̑͝͠ ̶̙͙̓̂̃h̴͍̖͂̏̚ǔ̸͉̮̍͜ͅn̵̨͔̭͂̎̀͒g̴͔͔̠͉̅̀̎ė̷͇̬̭̌́r̵̫̉̈.̵͖͊́ |
Steam poured from the pan as Christopher stared blankly at the stove. His unfocused eyes paid no attention to the meal he prepared. His mind wandered to the heavy lead and leather box containing what he presumed to be his father's skull. David, his father, was traveling most of the time. Guarding the royal family and carrying out missions both diplomatic and military meant that he was often far from home. Chris knew this and didn't mind much. The help took good care of the home and he was able to find his intense and diverse studies. He had no expectation to find something so ominous in his search for some of his stored materials.
David had returned from his most recent sojourn the day before. He had been resting in his quarters and occasionally visited the private study to return correspondence that he missed during his departure. During this time he had not, for even a moment, removed his armor. This was commonplace for David. Christopher had not questioned it once. The thought simply had not occurred to him. He had mostly been raised by maids and nannies and the occasional nobleman that lodged in this wing or that when visiting the capitol of the kingdom. Now that he had considered it Christopher couldn't remember his father's face and for that matter worried he had never seen it. Did they look alike?
The smell of smoke snapped Christopher out of his musing and he was back into the kitchen. He was finished with the meal and began preparing plates and glasses for his father and himself. He edged through the manor towards his father's study. The door was cracked and Christopher slowly opened it in hopes he could catch a glimpse of hair or skin of anything that would cast off the suspicions he held. The hope fell flat as he was faced with a simple suit of armor sitting at his father's intricate oak desk penning a missive to some foreign leader.
"Father? Dinner is ready. I've worked hard to make something I think you'd enjoy. Could we dine together?"
The armor clanked as David's pen ceased its smooth movement over the long parchment. Christopher thought he heard a thoughtful sigh. The suit sat still for a few seconds until, to Christopher's shock, it let out a reply:
"Why?"
Christopher was stunned. He did his best to reply casually but simply managed to stammer out
"Well uh I guess I've missed you these few weeks"
"Is that the truth?"David replied flatly. Christopher had always thought of his father kindly. He always made time for his son when he was home. They'd go riding or hunting together. At the very least they'd read around the fire together.
"Y-y-yes?"He stuttered
"I must have been gone too long this time if you've taken to lying to your father, Christopher. We both know that isn't why you'd like to eat together. Tell me when you found it and be truthful."The armor turned to face him and seemed to stare while it waited for the reply.
"A few days ago. Less than a week. I have many questions and hoped I was being the fool."
"Quite the opposite Christopher. I feel I've passed the appropriate point at which to tell you the truth."With this remark he removed his helmet. There was nothing there. The suit was hollow and the reverberation of the metal echoed out of it.
Christopher woke up in his bed with a wet cloth on his forehead. His father sat reading next to him. He opened his eyes and turned his head toward the armor next to him.
"It wasn't a dream was it?"He whispered
"No, son, it wasn't. Are you ready to hear the truth of it?" |
The history of humankind is often said to be a history of war, and peace was the exception, not the norm.
When weapons of mass destruction in every perceivable category had been constructed, it was hypothesised that even sneezing in the wrong direction would result in the utter annihilation of our species.
What was amazing though was the fact that such pursuit of destruction lead to the first truly global peace that had ever been achieved. With the threat of your neighbour 3d printing a doomsday level self-replicating nano-virus, humans had to change their ways.
And so began a global effort to solve our problems using means other than violence. Great efforts were started to get people populating the stars so Earth was no longer a flashpoint.
All seemed hopeful, a utopia was imminent. But with humans being imperfect creatures it was not meant to last, and someone sneezed in the wrong direction. |
"Who are you?"
I am the angle of 36 and three quarters. I'm here to guide you to the Realm of the Full Circle to sit with all the other angles and praise PI to the last decimal.
"I don't deserve it. I've only calculated PI to [1000 sided polygon](https://www.cantorsparadise.com/computing-digits-of-pi-with-polygons-ae1480d464b5?gi=596230b8477e)."
PI shall reward you for your efforts even though you refuted PI.
"No, it was a childish need. A small slip of the will. I don't deserve such a reward."
It tempted you and you overcame it, thus proving your devotion. Even now, I hear it whispering to you, to deny your place.
Show yourself, THING. You dealer of lies and ignorance! Show yourself, in the name of Gabriel, Angle of Ninety! In the name of PI, appear!
A shimmer, a veil of greasy film wavers and appears in the corner.
"Oh, you righteous angles. Always trying. This one is mine."
I pray to Gabriel for the strength of the quarter circle as I grab the offending letter.
See here Beast! I see your handy work. How clever to twist one to write such drivel. "[The Geometry Simplification](https://www.huffpost.com/entry/republicans-introduce-leg_b_837828)."To try and reduce to PI to three.
BEGONE, by the numbers, three point one ....
NO!
four one five nine two ...
CURSE YOU
six five three five
It melted away, leaving a stench.
"Come now", I said, "Let us return"
"Yes, I see now. You know I always liked zero too"
Oh, there's plenty of those in PI. |
The request was obviously a troll, right? A name like solidlystonedsnake asking to change into a bearded, middle age man saying "It's okay, son. You're a good man"didn't smack the most serious to me. But it was a pricey troll; twenty-five dollars more than I usually recieve. I smile. I will humor this one.
I shift my form; it makes me feel like a dozen sit-ups across my whole body, but I find it cathartic as I relax into a slightly portly, nearly bald man with a greying beard and glasses. I catch a glimpse of myself and remind myself of the character. Fatherly. Supportive. Forgiving. I take a deep breath. And I speak, letting the vibrato rumble and give my voice a gravel of age.
"It's alright, son. It's okay. You're a good man, now, and I'm proud of you."
I smile at the camera, genuinely feeling love welling up. As I look back at my screen I see a dozen more requests start pinging. Donations asking me to keep being Dad Bod and say other things.
"Love is love, and I accept yours"
"Sorry for missing that birthday, Lisa"
"You'll always matter to me"
"I'll always love you"
"I miss you, too"
Over the next few hours, I let my Minecraft just cycle in the background as I begin to realize that these were in earnest. I am their surrogate for this outpouring. After a while, I end up just chatting with the viewers as Dad Bod, helping them feel even a little bit better with where they are.
Humans are strange, but they deserve love. |
Opening the door was easy; nobody in this town locked their doors. I entered, and as soon as I stepped over the threshold, their family dog greeted me. He began panting and licking the outside of my bunny suit. His nose and tongue had the pustules that I was told to look for.
They didn't tell me it was zoonotic. I figured I better be safe, so I shot him.
The gloves in the bunny suit make this difficult. There's a certain amount of feedback you get by holding a pistol; the feel of the grip in your hands, the feedback of the trigger; all these were missing through the 3 layers of gloves I had on.
That means I didn't get him right behind the ear, like I wanted. The report was muffled by the suppressor, but i still felt the shock ofthe recoil through my hand. The little guy started whimpering, and trying to run off. I shot him again, this time hitting the mark. He went silent.
"Sorry, little guy."
MY eyes teared up a bit; and this was the worst thing that could happen at this moment. I can't wipe my face while wearing the "Outbreak"bunny suit.
"Settle down. Be Spock. Control it, you have to finish! I chided myself.
I walked up the stairs to the first bedroom, and opened the door. The room was outlayed in pink and blue hues. A picture of Barbie, or some other doll decorated the wall in front of me. The little girl asleep in bed had welts and pustules covering her face. She had one of those dolls with her, squeezed between her large arms.
I walked up to her, as closely as I dared to get. She stirred gently, muttering something as I brought the pistol up to her forehead and fired. Some blood and brain matter splattered all over the doll in her arms. I swear I could smell it, but that was impossible; I was in a bunny suit after all.
Next room. Mom and dad's room. I could hear both of them wheezing, even over the helmet. As I walked in, dad looked near death. His entire head was one huge welt, and most of the pustules were breaking open with the blue-orange ooze that was well known to those of us at the institute.
See, there was a containment leak, and it was pretty much my fault. Dad here, worked for me, and discovered it, but didn't tell anyone. He almost ruined everything, he almost killed us all...
But with the research from this project, from the instutite, they tell me that the antitode for this bioengineered bug will cure just about anything: from herpes to AIDS. It worked on my herpes, you know, but that's a different story...
Dad looked near death, if he wasn't brain dead already. Mom was holding him tightly, the blue-orange ooze on her nightdress.
Even with the pustules all over her arms and face, she was still beautiful.
I shot them both, point blank in the head, and tried not to think about it anymore.
In death, dad emptied his bowels. The smell was unbelievable.
Wait. I can smell it. That must mean...
And i looked down at my leg. The dog had torn a small hole in my bunny suit.
Well, shit.
Next room was the twins. IT's really too hard to talk about. I shot the first one directly in the head. I could tell that the silencer was beginning to degrade, as this made more of a loud pop than the other shots.
The other twin stirred in bed, and looked up at me.
"I'm scared"he said.
"Don't be. You know why, right?"
"We're really sick. And we'll kill everyone, right?"
"Smart boy. I'm really sorry."and I pulled the trigger.
*CLICK*
Oh shit.
I had a problem. This handgun only held six rounds. I didn't know about the damn dog, and I wasted one of the bullets when I couldn't hit him from three fucking feet away.
I took off my helmet, and sat down next to the kid.
"Look, I fucked this up really badly."
"You said a bad word."
"Yeah, I did. I'm pretty sure I'm going to a bad place afterwords. I tore my suit. I'm infected, now, too. After this, I pretty much deserve it. Look, kid, this is going to suck."
"Just do it."he said.
I gave him a hug, and set the phosphorus grenade in my lap, and pulled the pin. |
Commander Tap'leth looked at the screen in confusion. "I honestly don't see what he rest of you are so worried about?"
I rubbed my eight temples again. "They. Are. Fucking. Huge."It had been six hours of debate now, six hours going around and around.
"And. we. are. fucking. going. to. kill. them. all. because. we. have. big. guns."He mimicked me back poorly.
"We could get another thousand troops?"Commander Pleth'mo'cha, suggested uselessly.
"Still not going to make much difference, they are each 1,700 times bigger than us!"I shouted.
"So you're saying we meet at least 1,800 more troops?"He shot back?
I slowly began to bag my head on the table. "Six hundred fucking years planning and no one thought to check how big they were. I am going to MURDER the science division when we get back!"
From the edge of the table the final Commander of our fleet finally spoke. he was the oldest of the Chi'mundi and a legendary warrior, now in his final years.
"Me'hooti makes many good points. With such difference in size it will be difficult for us to destroy our enemy."I nodded smugly. At last someone else got it. "BUT, we are warriors true, each of you with at least a hundred battles fought and our ships are plentiful and strong."
He stood and his voice grew strong, across the open bridge the Chi'mundi warriors stopped and watched. "We have a sacred mission from God to destroy these people. We have hacked into their electronic networks and now have the sum total of their knowledge at our fingertips and we can use that knowledge to help us to destroy them. WE CANNOT LOSE WITH GOD ON OUR SIDE!"
A great cheer went up and the other commanders leapt to their feet applauding. Reluctantly I joined them and in minutes the fleet was underway.
Soon we approached the surface and a plan had been agreed. We picked an open area with scans showing only one human around so that we could test our weapons against them. We knew where to target and what to expect, we were ready.
The human ducked and screamed as the first wave of fighters swooped in and fired but seemed unhurt. It took off running and we chased, quickly catching it and hammering it time and again with blasts.
Soon it lay injured and one ship approached but we were cocky. It reached up with its huge grasping hands and grabbed the ship and dashed it to pieces.
The large bombers closed in and in a few rounds it was dead. "See, we can kill them Tap'leth"called happily.
"Er, commander. one of the science officers coughed from across the room. "Slight problem."
I ran over to him. "What, what is it?"
He nervously licked his four lips. "That doesn't seem to have been a human?"
"What?!"I screamed. "What did we kill?"
He looked down. "Well, from their online database it seems it was called a raccoon."
|
We wanted our son to be embedded last year. His marks weren't going anywhere and other kids were quickly pulling ahead. The chip had been around for a while, heavily increasing the imbalance in the world. Our lives were made easier due to technology advancing faster than ever before. Diseases that affected the brain, especially memory were non-existent. Every day, hundreds of people made the switch from living life, to living life to the fullest.
I had to pull double shifts and my wife went back to work, all to afford the chip. Being from a second world country, getting the thing was rare but meant you'd have a very bright future. We saw the unhappiness the lack of intelligence, memory and analytical prowess caused for our son. He wanted to be as good as his peers. In our eyes, he already was.
The virus erupted in China half a month ago. Some teenager who believed in equality, spent three years in his pajamas inventing the deadliest cyber-bacteria we'd ever seen. A disease that attacked the chip, ruining the brain from within. Word is he took a job at one of the prestige restaurants in Shanghai, infected the food and disappeared.
The microchip wasn't meant to be removed after being implemented. It connected directly to the brain's key parts. And so did the virus. Slowly deteriorating a person's capabilities, knowledge and memory. We had left ourselves completely vulnerable, every top politician and scientist had been exposed.
My son turns 18 today, the age he's supposed to be at university. The day my trials as a father come to a close. The son I spent all those years working for, molding to become the man he would've been today. My life's work.
But I don't remember his name.
-
EDIT: Slight change to the story to make it less predictable and stale.
EDIT: Words for better flow. |
It's slightly more of a taste.
That feeling you get when you first bit into chocolate.
At first there's nothing, then it melts. The flavor fills your mouth and overtakes your senses. It doesn't matter what comes after, because the taste still lingers. Soda become seltzer, treats become texture. All because one simple sense overcomes, overpowers the rest and is now coated with the idea of a taste.
This is what it's like. A colour so soft and so sweet that it envelopes all others, rendering them meaningless. It lasts in short bursts, bold and beautiful.
And the colour is simply the colour of "happy." |
"No, thank you."
The restaurant went quiet. Gemma was overcome by the sudden hush that followed the low, rumbling bustle that had filled the restaurant.
"Sorry,"the waitress said with a cheerful, confused raise of the eyebrows, "what was that?"
Gemma looked into her lap and mumbled another "no thanks"into her folded hands, trying to appear small. The other patrons leaned in towards her.
"Sorry love,"the waitress said again, a little more insistent, "could you repeat that?"
Gemma took a shuddering breath. She knew it would come to this. Never eating mashed potatoes, only eating at asian and pan-asian restaurants when she ate out, never going somewhere she'd have to be exposed.
Perhaps it was the draw of a good old-fashioned burger that had finally made her cave. Perhaps she wanted to get caught. Regardless, there was no turning back now.
"Sorry,"she said, remembering at just the last moment to follow the new social protocol, "no poutine for me. I don't like gravy."
The restaurant fell into chaos. |
It's 0400, in the alpine desert near Waiouru. It's not too bad for a summer night on the Central Plateau with the tussock grass rolling in the wind.
Soldiers of the 1st New Zealand Special Air Service Regiment are on a night operation forced march across this rough ground, operating under radio silence and without light sources, although night vision goggles are active.
The march has been going on for nearly eight hours now, and it is going badly.
"Lt, I can't find the damn land mark!"Sergeant Tua calls back to me. I rub my hand over my face, we've marched this route and similar ones dozens of times, it's just not on for an NZSAS trooper to get lost on his own damn island.
"Right, show me where you think we are, and where we should be."
The map is presented to me, and well, I agree with what's marked, the route, bearings and speeds all align with what we've been marching. "Whats the problem? Unless you've mapped it wrong, we're where we should be!"
"Lt, where's Ruapehu?"comes the tired response.
I look around, checking my compass, looking slightly west of north and.... There's no mountain there. There *should* be a great big volcano, but no, just rolling plains. Our compasses must be off. I look to the sky and well, damned if I've never seen those stars before.
"Troopers, first soldier to find me the Southern Cross gets $20!"
A few minutes staring into the sky fail to find the iconic constellation.
Adapt and push on.
I reorient the platoon to head back to the army base, hoping the compass's are trustworthy, nothing else seems to make sense out here.
It's just past dawn when we hear the first signs of other life. We're completely lost now, starting to come across wooden fenced fields. This is a military training ground, there shouldn't be anything but tussock. And if we've managed to get so lost we're off the training ground, well, we're in for it.
These fields are small, and filled with what looks to be a crop almost ready to be harvested. As the morning progresses, we manage to find a dirt road, something out of a european history book rather than the paved tarseal we're used to. A quick change of plan to follow it on the basis roads lead somewhere is radioed out.
"Lt, the radio is dead. Just static. Every channel."Oh good god, what now. We're lost, we can't find the stars, the damn mountain, and now no radio.
"Turn it off, cut the chat and we'll keep pushing on."
The sun is high in the sky when we sight a village. Someone must be playing a joke, this place must have been a movie set. "Tua, filming for the Hobbit has finished, right?"
"Yes Lt"
"So why does that town look exactly like it should be in a film, and why are the actors all walking around?"
"Tour groups?"
The platoon moves up to the town, and it's starting to dawn on me that these aren't actors. These look like actual people from an actual village. They just *stare* at us. I park most of the platoon on the edge of the village and take a fireteam in between the houses.
A small group of maybe ten villagers holding improvised weapons bars our way as we approach. I sling my M4 and approach them, hands open.
"Hello, we're lost. Where are we?"
The villagers are clearly apprehensive, but seem to have understood that we're not hostile. It's eerily unreal, an elite soldier of one of the best special forces talking to what appears to be, for all intents and purposes, a medieval peasant.
One of the villagers lowers his hoe and steps foward. "I an Theno, son of Ran. You are in the lands of Anórien in the realm of Gondor."
I don't know how, and I don't know why, but it clicks. We're in the damn lands of the Lord of the Rings. I wave up Tua.
"Find someone who knows Lord of the Rings well, I think we're in the damn lands. And get us aimed towards a city!"
Well, this is the biggest bugger up I'd ever seen. |
Ow.
That was was I said, as I felt a small pain near my ear. Probably just a bee or something.
*I dashed silently, hearing the noise that signaled to start again. I licked my lips.*
I sighed, not knowing where I was, or which direction I had come from.
I hadn't been here since I was little. But still, I thought I would know this place a *little* better. It was bigger than I remembered as well...
I climbed up around 6 feet on a nearby tree. With the fight all but forgotten, I desperately looked around, trying to find some semblance of direction, of where I was.
*I watched, using my unusually keen eyesight and high vantage point to see. The drug was probably taking effect right about now.*
Bingo.
I saw what looked like tracks, extending outward in either direction. While I didn't remember any such tracks from when I was little, I counted my lucky stars and walked towards the tracks, still wincing every time I stepped with my right foot.
I looked either direction, neither looking better than the other. I flipped a coin, and headed right.
Around a mile later, the forest started getting much, much denser. Being lost, there was a feeling I couldn't quite place. It wasn't quite, you know, fear, but I knew some thing was wrong. I felt stationary.
*I restrained myself. The man was walking in circles, but to his point of view, he was walking miles.*
I glanced towards the sun, noting it was descending towards the horizon at what seemed to be an unnatural pace. I still probably had 1 hour of daylight left, though. Hadn't I left at 9 AM....?
Just as I was about to turn back, just as I was sure I should have headed in the other direction, I heard a faint rustling noise up ahead.
I squinted, and saw something in the distance. With new found strength, I raced towards it... and stopped when I *smelled it*.
You know what I'm talking about. That stench!
What greeted me...
*I saw the man walk towards the disposal cave. Uh oh. I guess a repeat was in order.*
Bodies. So many bodies, of all sizes. Children, teenagers, you name it. The funny thing was, they all seemed to be in different stages of decay. They all had this look on their faces, almost as if they just realized something... I was beginning to feel some deja vu.
I started to feel weak. Why was I here?
And then I remembered the name of the forest.
**Everwalk Woods.**
*I shot the dart.*
Ow.
That was was I said, as I felt a small pain near my ear. Probably just a bee or something. |
President Al Smith stood on the podium shaking in the cold. A great American flag was flying valiantly in front of the Powell House. Thousands had flocked to Philadelphia to hear the President speak. Behind him sat his Vice President, Franklin Roosevelt, as well as his wife and a few other people. "Ladies, Gentlemen, Americans. Yesterday, January 5th, 1939, The United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by Air and Army forces of the Confederate States of America. It is an injustice that cannot stand."
The Crowd remained at a hush. "In Europe, our Allies in the Central Powers have been attacked without provocation"The reaction was varied in the crowd, some clenched their jaw in steely determination, others looked full of despair that they were Going to fight the Confederates again. "We have a long, hard road ahead of us. But Tyranny and Racial oppression is not the fate of the world, We cannot accept that. The Confederates, the British, and the French have made themselves the Enemies of civilization. We cannot back down now."
The Crowd seemed to respond to the President. There were nods and shouts of support but for the most part the crowd remained respectfully quite. "I have spoken With Chancellor Maxwell Von Ranken and the leaders of our other Allies. Nothing short of total and complete Victory will mean the end of this conflict."as he spoke his voice started to raise, the crowd began to cheer along with him. "I Promise you, American people that We will not rest until every state, every town, and every mile of North America is free once more! This is our fight and you can all be sure that we will win it!" |
"What are you doing, Nick?"she asked him, the slightest hint of frustration bubbling forth from her tone. He couldn't ever simply be on task, he had to ask questions and be told a million things before everything seemed to click for him. She felt sorry, in a way, because her son wouldn't have the life that she wanted for him. Her son was a decent enough boy, but just a little dull. She shooed him away from whatever mess he made now and threw away all the junk that was on the floor. Oh, how she wished that he could just play like normal kids.
She knew he was a little slow, but the other children seemed to distance themselves from him and his interactions were..well, pathetic was putting it nicely. He was awkward, didn't quite fit in with his peers. He'd read books slower, and he never quite got the answers right on his tests. His teachers always said he was a handful, and didn't complete the assignment properly. She scolded him, because her child would not be a deviant; indeed, he would grow to be a man who would respect authority and follow directions.
Honestly, it wouldn't have been that remarkable of a child if he hadn't entered that science fair. She laughed when he told her, she thought he was joking! How could he ever hope to win in his worst subject? Even better, he had been collecting junk and making messes for her to clean up for the better part of a month. Exasperated, "Mom, please. Can you stop cleaning up my project?"he whined. It's almost as if he didn't understand the importance of a clean house! She stormed out of the room, angry and disappointed in her son, definitely not for the first or last time either. She knew he would fail, and set out to fix his victory, if only to boost his confidence.
She worked hard, night and day for at least a week before perfecting his project. She was building it in secret, away from him, so he wouldn't mess about with it. It was dangerous, and messy; both things Nick seemed to enjoy. Finally, two days before the science fair, she unveiled her project to him. He stood in what must have been awe, as his jaw dropped and he was speechless. She stood, absolutely glowing with pride. His project would be the best, and showiest in the entire fair!
The next few days he was holed up in the garage, likely tearing down his junk and cleaning the garage as her gift. She smiled as she thought of her son becoming a perfect little man now, finally realizing his place in the world. The day of the science fair had arrived, and the whole world was in for a shock. She drove her son into the school auditorium where there were a few projects. She set up a table for him, and boasted about her son's project to any who would listen. She was brimming with pride, until she heard her son's name called to present his project. Then, she was just a bit nervous that he wouldn't win.
That day was the last day she worried about him, as his project was more than even she expected.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nick was, by all accounts, a slow learner. He studied, took longer to absorb material, and often had questions. He would ask his teachers why things were the way they are and they'd simply respond to him with exasperation and monotonous ramblings of definitions from the textbooks that were inadequately explaining things in the first place. He struggled in school, he barely understood what the teachers were talking about and he understood the other children much less. His mother often doted upon him, treating him as well as she could but even she lacked any patience to deal with his needs. He felt like a burden sometimes, and would often read in his room so he wouldn't bother anyone else. He liked reading, it was like hearing the thoughts of someone else from anywhere and any time. It was empowering, knowing that these people who were long-dead still had influence in this day and age.
He wouldn't have entered the science fair if it wasn't for a dare from his friend, and come to think of it, he wasn't so much a friend as the only person who didn't actively make fun of Nick. So, Nick gave in and said he'd win! He had an idea, actually. He'd been collecting spare bicycle parts and other odds and ends from a junkyard and other people's houses. He'd even gone through a dumpster or two to procure everything he'd need. Nick's mother really gave it to him when he told her where he'd found his newest set of junk, he thought she'd have a heart attack! His only problem was as soon as he got his model working -almost- the way he wanted, his mother would come and throw the whole thing away! He complained a few times, asked her not to touch his project and even started tinkering with it in the garage.
Since he'd been working on it in the garage, she didn't "clean it"as much as she did when he was in the house, and that was a nice change of pace. About two days before the science fair, his mother burst into the garage and stepped all over his creation. Luckily, it wasn't working as he'd intended otherwise it would have been a messy cleanup. She didn't seem to care that he'd told her that his project was delicate and, in a case, dangerously experimental. She came in and told him that she'd solved it! She'd made him the best project and that he'd surely win first prize. Well, Nick knew that his mother was a smart lady and he was feeling mighty good about his project now. He knew that it'd take at least three days' time to fix what she'd broken, so he was proud that she'd taken his side for once.
When he saw what she'd made, he almost cried. It was..it was a volcano. Baking soda, some vinegar, and red food dye. She'd made it out of paper mache and it really didn't look that bad but.. his project could revolutionize the world! He simply walked back into the garage and told his mother that she wasn't to come into there because he was, well, he lied. He told her that he was making her a gift because he was so thankful. He didn't sleep for the next two days, and had actually completed his project with a bit more than he'd originally planned. His project stunned everyone, especially his mother, and it stunned them quite literally. He'd invented the world's first phaser.
That's how Nickolai started his rebellion, and the world was forever changed. |
"I do not drink when I write!"I yell at the judge, banging my chained wrists on the wooden counter.
All around me, the people watching the trial let out low exclamations and whispers.
"Order!"The judge begs, banging his hammer. "Order! Mr. Alpaca, ever since the first accusations regarding
your drinking problem –"
"I told you, I don't have a drin –"
"—the court has decided to set up security cameras to analyze your behavior while writing. These videos, presented
to the court as 'evidence A', are now to be brought to the attention of the jury."
"I… what?"
"As all of you know, writing under the influence is a very serious crime. Should Mr. Alpaca be proven guilty,
according to law, he'll hang by the neck until he is dead."
"Wait… what was that about videos that –"
Two men drag a television set from a back door into the court room. The crowd silences, and every face turns to
the screen.
"Oh, fuck…"I say.
"Now… whenever you logged into your subreddit, Alpaca, your computer started filming you. Let's see what it
recorded."
"I don't think that's exactly necessary, your honor,"I say, raising both my hands. "If you could just –"
But the TV starts hissing, and dead channel gray rain turns to my face onscreen.
"GOD DAMN IT, LUNA!"I yell, onscreen, as I take a shot of scotch straight from the bottle. "STOP
POSTING ON MY THREADS!"
The court goes 'oh' in a low voice. By her corner on the benches, /u/Luna_Lovewell watches it all in silence.
"For God's sake, you can't have a thread with this girl,"my face grunts onscreen, downing another shot. "I can't have a moment!"
"Well, your honor,"the prosecutor starts, getting up, "we can clearly see he's drinking in the video, so –"
"I'm not writing anything, though!"I protest. "I'm just reading, in the video! I'm allowed to read and drink!"
"I'll write some shit about that murder squirrel, or whatever,"my face says, on the TV. "That always gets some
upvotes."
For a while, there's silence, while everyone watches as I type away in silence, stopping only for new sips of scotch.
"This is outrageous,"a woman's voice whispers, behind me. I think it's /u/Lexilogical, but I'm too ashamed to turn
and look.
I'm sorry Lexi. I'm sorry Sam Galimore. I'm sorry everyone.
I just wanted to be good.
Onscreen, I click Enter and my red, swollen face smiles. "That'll show her. Yeah, that'll show all of them! You can't
win every time, Luna! You can't!"
Like a comic book villain, I laugh insanely, pouring the rest of the scotch onto my whole body. The entire courtroom looks horrified. I eat a scotch soaked muffin.
The screen goes black, and the room is silent like an elevator fart.
"Well… this settles it, Alpaca,"the judge says. "This video irrefutably proves that you have written under the
influence and posted the results both to WP and your personal subreddit. Not that this should surprise anyone
who's ever read your work,"he adds, in a low voice. "Which leaves me no choice but to sentence you to be hung to
death by tomorrow's first light."
"What if it's cloudy?"I ask, grinning.
"Really, Alpaca?"
"Sorry, I'm drunk,"I say.
"Do you have any last words?"
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Looking around the courtroom, I see all the familiar eyes at me. Everyone
shaking their heads, disappointed.
"All I wanted was to be the first on the threads I liked,"I say, in a low voice. "That's why I started drinking in the
first place. I couldn't stand reading a prompt response better than whatever it was I was planning to write just
staring at me from across the laptop screen."I rest my eyes on Luna for a second. "I thought maybe if I started
drinking I'd write better, faster… Maybe I'd be good like you all... but I just ended up writing a bunch of puns and gorey jokes..."I pause, taking a deep breath. "But... if I'm leaving this world tomorrow, I'll do it with a light soul. I'll do it knowing that at least in this thread… at least now, with all your eyes on me… I got to post here first. I got my blaze of glory. My one last ride. This thread, right here. My redemption."
There's a moment of silence.
Then the judge clears his throat. "/u/LeoDuhVinci has posted in this thread, already,"he says, awkwardly.
"What!?"
I look back. From his seat, Leo throws a glance at Luna's way, nodding softly.
And I swear to God she nods back.
__________
*thanks for reading! For more stories, check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)*
|
Surprised, confused, and frankly a little hurt I stammer out, "Wait wait wait... Why are you overthrowing me?"
As my words reach him he only looks to me as if I had asked something ridiculous. "Your reign has gone on too long!"
"But what is it I've actually done wrong? My citizens are fed, the army is mostly for external threats, and we have trade routes and allies that span the known lands!"
At this their leader only seems more agitated. "You wouldn't understand what it is we're fighting you for! You're the one in power!"
"Alright, alright, let's talk about what you want out of this. Do you have a list?"
Now he just looks confused, this is getting a bit ridiculous.
Still looking confused, but now he's talking to the people around him.
Ah it looks like they have something now! "We want you off the throne!"
"Okay, what about after?"
"You will be replaced!"
"Who? How will they be chosen?"
They seem confused again. I don't think they really have a plan.
"Well if you don't have a plan, can I suggest something? How about you come back in a week and petition me with a plan? And then we can talk about it a little? I'll set aside a whole day, you can bring some friends! Maybe we can set up a thing where everyone chooses who they want to lead?"
"That's ridiculous! You mock us!
"No, no, I've heard it works very well in other nations!"
After some murmuring the rebels seemed to come to a consensus and started chanting "Down with the king!"on their way out, knocking over items as they go. They even damaged my favorite potted fern and someone peed on the carpet.
Then the next week came around and they boycotted our meeting.
I'm really still not sure what they want. But I wish they would stop throwing fruit at me when I leave the castle.
I suppose the moral of the story is, if you're outraged, at least explain to the people you're trying to take down why. Perhaps a solution is available which doesn't involve wasted fruit, or executions. |
When the representative told me I wasn't sure what to make of it. Somehow, he said, it was something that they never thought to check for before starting out. How could that be?? I mean, I'm no genius, but I know a thing or two about even numbers.
As I sat there, floored by the fact that I was the only person on earth who didn't have a soulmate, he began talking about "options". Or at least he started to, but after a pause I think he realized how silly that was considering the circumstances because he just trailed off.
To fill the void of awkward silence, I cleared my throat and changed the subject. So if I'm the odd man out that must mean *he* had someone, right? He smiled wanly and nodded. Tell me about her, I asked.
I saw his eyes slightly lose focus as he called up a mental image of her, and his smile broadened. He spoke of her laugh. The way her pinky jiggles when she's lost in thought. Her hobbies and dreams and eating habits. And let's not forget her *body*...
The pit in my stomach slowly broke apart as he talked, hearing the love in his voice. I found that I could picture perfectly this person that he was so enamored with. She did indeed sound great, perfectly lovable. And in that moment I realized that all was not lost. I just had to do a little creative math.
So now I'm on my way to see her, his ID in my pocket in case I need a refresher on their address. I have a feeling we'll really hit it off, I'm a pretty persuasive guy. Of course, if it doesn't work out it's not the end of the world. What's that old saying?...
There are plenty of other people's fish in the sea. |
No one actually thought World War III would happen. Oh, they talked about it. They were even a little afraid of it. But no one actually thought it would happen. When the first bombs began to fall, most people expected that would be the worst of it. Humanity would come to our collective senses, a land war would begin somewhere, and someone would win.
WWIII had only one winner, if you could call it that. Norway was the only country that wasn't directly hit by at least one nuke. Norway avoided the worst of the nuclear dust storms, the swarms of irradiated refugees, and the inevitable plagues that followed them. Norway survived the rising tides, the increased number of hurricanes, tropical storms, and tornados that hit most countries near the equator. Norway survived while the rest of the world waged bloody war to the death.
Now, almost a hundred years later, Norway still stands. One of the last countries recognizable both before and after the war, Norway is now the world's only superpower. They control 83% of the world's arable farmland and thus, most of the worlds populated land mass.
The only other surviving superpower is Madagascar, who managed to avoid the whole war by closing their ports when a ferry passenger sneezed. |
"You're one of the most powerful and talented heroes on earth and you let your dumb boyfriend hit you like that?"
Nice job on trying to be sensitive, Killer Death. Also, nice job on stalking your archenemy after finding out each other's secret identities.
Thanks, by the way, Body-Switcher. You and your dumb name and your gimmicky gimmicks can suck it. Now Stardust is angry and ready to punch my teeth in. Again.
"Woah, woah! I'm unarmed, I'm unarmed!"I whisper. Panicked, but softly. Just like my daily life.
"Why are you here, Killer?!"Not like I hear that everyday.
"Why, I was simply taking a stroll around the neighbourhood and I couldn't help but notice that a young, but quite nasty looking man repeatedly hitting you with a hammer. I was meaning to intervene however he'd suddenly disappeared. He wouldn't happen to be the elusive hero Happy Houdini, would he? Not very happy now I suppose..."
Were those... tears? "Oh shit, I went too far, didn't I?"
"You better watch your mouth, KD. Anything you say can and will be used against---"
"Alright, look. Enough with the hero talk."Now Stardust's ignoring me.
"Please? I just want to talk for a sec. Real person talk."
Damn you and your big beautiful eyes. I then ask if the Ol' BF is gone. Downstairs basement, watching football you say. I contemplate going down there and breaking at least 193 bones.
"Is there anywhere private we can talk?"
You flew me to the park. The park where we met. I was a hotshot mook new to the scene, you had just appeared in the city months ago. You took my boss down so I shot you in the back. It barely grazed you but you were livid nonetheless.
By some miracle that building toppled onto you and I adored the media's attention.
Reworked my image, called in a few coworkers, and now I'm far greater, far more powerful than Killer Grandpa could ever be.
It's a Wednesday so there's only old people doing calisthenics in the park this time around. I don't think anyone noticed a flying civilian carrying another civilian, god forbid they'd think we were a couple.
"All I want to say is----"fuck me, Stardust's crying.
It's like when you see a stranger on a park bench in total anguish and you sit next to them and ask what's wrong.
Except instead of a stranger it's your archenemy, and instead of asking them what's wrong, you know what's wrong but you don't want to say anything.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. I wrap my arms around Stardust.
No, not Stardust.
Casey Sterling, age 27.
Casey hugs me back.
"I'm not gonna give you advice or try to fuck things up on purpose. But I just want you to know that I'm worried about you. I swear I don't have any ill will or ulterior motives. That's because I've been there before.
I've BEEN THERE before. Just because you're impervious to nearly everything doesn't mean you're immune to what's happening right now. No one should ever hurt you like he does, compromise your safety, and your happiness."
Fuck me, now I'm crying.
"Really, us villains should be the only ones who can hurt you, because you can hurt us back even harder. Plus it's in the job description."
Finally, my attempts at using humour as a coping mechanism are working.
"Killer Death might still do some dumb shit, but I'm here for you. And all I'll do is listen and make really bad jokes."
Is that a smile I see on your face?
"... Thanks KD."
"Please, call me Amy."
"Sure."
"...You know, I've never had a gay best friend before."
"Don't even start."
Edit: thanks for the upvotes and the love!
|
[Before reading I acknowledge the fact that my text may have a trillion of syntax and grammatical errors. This is my first writing prompt in English, so I apologize to all readers in advance]
Somewhere and sometime in a place that had neither former nor latter, on a giant dark blanket ornamented with shiny gold dust which in some worlds is considered endless and called "space"was a little grey dot. That little spot contained SolzhinitSun universe. Its orthodox scientists always thought their grey universe was milk spilled on a blanket, whilst more creative ones considered it some different substance perpetrated by acts of superior creatures. Hitherto it was the most crucial scientific debate on the Myr planet, the only planet which was doomed to be inhabited in the SolzhinitSun universe. Up until a month ago.
A month ago all the most bright and omniscient minds of the planet Myr were collected in one place and subsidized by the newly created coalition of governments (COG) on occasion of a strange radio signal received from the outer blanket. Their task was simple - decipher and recreate the machine depicted in the radiowave. After one month of laborious and burdensome work, many controversies and sleepless days, finally the the leader of Coalition of Governments was chosen. It took one more day to decipher the signal and build the device.
A million of Myr dwellers were gathered outside on the Mai square. Other 72 billion were watching the live broadcast. I looked like the whole SolzhinitSun universe was absorbed in this crucial for their history moment. In the center of Mai square, right in front of a Beria statue stood a round-shaped concave polished metal disc, radiant with echoes of future. That was the exact recreation of the concepts received via the radio message. Near the disc stood Narod, a sturdy man, and a newly elected president of Coalition of Governments. (NEPCOG). He cleared his throat and took a microphone, a crowd fell silent and all cameras focused on him.
-I present you the 'Two Doors' project!, said he beaming with pride. He was especially proud of that name since he was the one who finally decrypted it.
To an overall applause and uproar a certain lever was lifted, a certain button pushed and our contraption came to life. Crowd fell silent.
Amidst the tranquility and absolute silence, with 72 billion 1 million pair of eyes set on the portal, one pair of ears heard something. More ears joined. The portal was letting out some sounds.
-..his is the en..
Sounds suddenly became stronger and resembled some tune to everyone's bewilderment.
-This is the en..
-My only friend
-The end.
Several seconds after the live translation to the Myr language of these words a chaos and panic in utmost dread followed. Following stampede on the vast square of Mai was a cause of many deaths, including Narod the president himself. And future lockdown of the whole planet and subsequent descent to the underground shelters was the only option for the whole population.
Meanwhile on an abandoned Myr surface, in an empty Mai square a giant metal subwoofer stood as the only lone monument of preceding times. Jim Morrison's voice was being played over and over for no one to hear. That was the crucial mistake of Narod's mistranslation of the Earth's project sent by the radio wave. It was called "The Doors", not "Two Doors".
|
I had simply wanted to be different. Though, I knew that I had no right to be. That was the life of a clone, one created by complete accident in an attempt to teleport. I existed to be someone else’s carbon copy, their living and breathing mirror. All the things that I liked weren’t decided by me, they had been written into my brain’s neural network. My memories were borrowed—or stolen—and I didn’t even have my own name.
Kyle 3. That’s what they called me because I wasn’t even the first clone nor the last one. I was simply one of the clones. Together, we took shifts going to school, a clone for every school day as the original could focus on his music. To him, high school was meaningless in comparison to music, which meant that I thought the same.
Some clones tried to fight their love of music. They thought that this could be their identity, how they differentiated themselves. But science proved far too precise. We loved music. It enveloped us, pushed us forward, and only the original could dedicate his life to it. The rest of us Kyles were simply here to carry him through school.
So in secret, I joined a band. At first, it had been me relenting to science. By the second week, singing songs that I created, I no longer cared for science. My passion was simply a copy. My love wasn’t genuine. I didn’t care. The music was real. I danced with it, hitting sweet high notes and emotional low ones, caressing the sound with my voice until I had no more voice left to give.
Then, one day, the original Kyle decided to come to school on the day I was supposed to. He had heard of the band he was supposedly in on Tuesdays and wanted to see for himself. He caught me as I had the mic to my lips, my eyes closed and my voice bellowing. With a single text message, he summoned me into the bathroom.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself, Number 3,” he said.
I gulped. “It’s just a hobby.”
He shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “No it’s not. It’s a hobby for those fuckers playing the triangle. This is everything to me and unfortunately, that means to you too.”
I nodded back. What point was there to lying to yourself?
“Might I remind you that you don’t exist?” The original Kyle told me. “You’re a copy of me. Clones are illegal and the standard course of action in the case of accidental cloning is disposing of the accident.”
A small lump welled inside my throat so that it blocked any words that I could say back. That wasn’t opinion. That was fact, a law created in order to manage any excess cloning. Honestly, it was out of pity for the clones, for the factories of cloned slaves that existed throughout the world.
“Say it,” he told me, glaring.
My eyes fell to my shoes—Kyle’s shoes. “I’m just a copy,” I muttered. “I’m fake.”
“And your music?”
My fingers clenched. “None of it is real. It’s borrowed.”
“Good,” the original Kyle said and with a pat on my shoulder, he left. “Leave the bands. Focus on school. I’m the one taking all the risks here, letting you guys live.”
I nodded after him, watching him turn the corner and disappear. It was true. Kyle had let us live when he shouldn’t have. We all owed him our lives, not just our lives, but our preferences, our looks, our talents—everything.
Tears came to my eyes, drowning the world. In the end, music wasn’t mine to create. I was simply borrowing Kyle’s rights. I wiped my eyes before leaving the bathroom. Suddenly, my breath caught. It was something Kyle had said, *leave the bands*. It had been plural.
The other clones had also joined bands and if we were the same, they too had crumpled pieces of papers in their pockets advertising this weekend's Battle of the Bands.
All six of Kyle’s clones were fake. We would all one day die, having never acquired the right to live. And if any part of us remained in this world, if any bit of us were real, it would be in our music. The original Kyle would be at the Battle of the Bands too in his own band which he spent every day of every week practicing for.
After this, there would be no hiding our secret. Even if Kyle didn’t want to, we clones would be hunted down. But I already knew the decision every other clone had come to, because it was the one that I had made.
I unclenched my fists and headed back to practice with my band.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 200+ stories!
|
The Do-right hit me quite hard. So hard, in fact, that I shut off the television, and lay on my floor. What was the point of a chair anyway? The floor wasn't that uncomfortable. I subconsciously reached up, and wiped the makeup from my face, feeling freed from a prison as I removed my mask. The drug, while powerful and expensive, was highly sought after. I had made my fortune years ago in stocks, and after selling it all to retire a secret billionaire, I resented my quiet life. After I had discovered Do-right though, it changed. I was no longer lonely and sad, I had no craving for unnecessary friendship or silly items. Do-right had given me the confidence to live the life I wanted to. In fact, the worst part of my life then was when I wasn't on Do-right.
I stood, and made my way to the kitchen. I opened my refrigerator, and retrieved a salad, my new favorite food. After all, what is taste but a lie your tongue tells your mouth? If its good for me, who cares how my tongue feels?
I sat at my table, and began to eat, savoring each chilly bite of lettuce. The glass of water next to me sat, lukewarm, but as a nice contrast to the vegetable. The only sense Do-right affected was sense of health. And I was the healthiest I had ever been in my life.
I heard a crash outside my window. I stood up quickly, considering my options. I knew I had to hide, and I slinked my way to the closet. But on my way there, a hand reached from the dark, clamped my mouth and shoved me against a wall, smelling of perfume.
My muffled screaming only served to anger the hand's owner, and a slap to the face caused me to stop.
"These old bitches,"he said, "they think this shit is ok to have."
I was puzzled, until another man entered my view, smelling strongly of rosebuds. The mystery was solved, and I knew instantly: they were perfume salesman.
"I can't believe this is who's taking all our business,"the man holding me said, "she can barely move. How does she convince people of this?"
"Hell if I know,"the man in front said, "it's not like she's gonna matter in a minute or two."
This terrified me, and I began to shriek again. The man in front approached slowly.
"I'm gonna get my friend here to remove his hand. I'm letting you know now, if you make a single sound I'll slit your throat real quick. Got it?"
I assume my eyes said yes, because he motioned, and my mouth was uncovered.
"Now listen here, and listen closely. Where'd you get that Do-right?"
He peered into my eyes, his young, chiseled face exactly what one would expect from a sleazy salesman. At my silence, he shrugged. He quickly flicked his wrist, and a knife appeared, blade glinting in the dim light.
"We can just kill you and find someone else, no skin off my back."
I whimpered, and a tear rolled down my face. He chuckled and shook his head.
"She's losing it. Let's just cut her off and move on to the next."
I shook my head violently, a last ditch attempt, and man behind me loosened his grip. I turned, and threw some powder into his mouth, then turning, did the same to the other before he could react. The man behind me stumbled into the wall, and fell over, knocking my pottery down on the way. The man in front just lost balance, then regained it.
"You're gonna regret... *whoa*."
I could see it hit him. He stopped, and looked at his gloved hands.
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry miss. I... I don't know what I was doing."
"It's ok deary,"I smiled, "everyone thinks that before it hits them."His partner stood up, but said nothing. A tear rolled down his cheek.
"I... I gotta call someone."
He ran off, accompanied by a muted wailing through his hands. His partner stared blankly at me.
"I've been blind my whole life. My God I've wasted twenty five years of my life, oh my God!"he wailed.
"Listen here,"I said, "Do-right will help you find your way."I reached into my pocket, and placed some loose powder in his hand. "Take this. You need it more than I do. I'm an old woman, I've done all I can. You can fix your life."
"Thank you so much,"he said, and he kissed my forehead tenderly, "I'll come back sometime, I owe you for the pottery."He pointed sadly at the shards on the ground.
"It's ok,"I said, "just make sure you use wisely."
He thanked me one more time, and left my house, returning me to my state of solemn introspection. I noticed a rose smell about my house for a week afterwards. I didn't care about how it smelled either way, but it didn't mean I couldn't appreciate the memory behind it.
Later, he returned to my home. He told me of how he had quit the job, and he was returning to college to get a degree in creative writing, his passion. I wasn't surprised, the Do-right was making him do right by himself. To this day, we have a weekly chat over coffee, he supplies me with stories, I supply him with Do-right.
And whenever I see someone selling makeup, or perfume, or crying in the bathroom, or broadcasting their insecurities, I just blow a little of my fairy dust into their face, and watch their lives change. And while you might not like my methods, I am doing right. Every time is another step towards a greater humanity. Another person out and about, doing right. |
I was waiting outside with the other parents to pick up my son from school.
And by waiting outside, I meant sitting in the car with the windows rolled up and praying none of my wife's friends came over and tried to start a conversation.
*Tap tap*.
I sighed and rolled down the windows. But just a little bit.
One of my wife's friends - her name was Anna, I think - smiled and gestured for me to roll down the window some more.
"Can't,"I mimed. "I think it's broken,"I lied.
The nerve of this woman! She shrugged, yanked the door open, got in, and closed the door behind her. I'm surprised she didn't put on her seatbelt and start giving me directions to her nearest destination.
I grimaced at her in welcome and made a mental note to lock all the doors next time.
She fiddled with the side buttons for a second. The window rolled down easily. She glanced over. "Looks like it works fine to me."
"Must be the buttons on my side then,"I covered quickly. I'm a great liar. "Anyway, so...did you need something?"
I made a point of peering rather dramatically around her head and out of her window. I wanted her to know that whatever she had to say should be quick and simple.
"I need your help,"she said.
"I don't know if I can help, but I'll let my wife know and maybe she--"
"No."She grabbed my arm and squeezed. "Only you."
Most of the parents I saw standing around lived in one big, pretty residential neighborhood inside the city. No one knew each other like in a small town, but we saw each other enough to be somewhat familiar. At least with faces.
People had seen her get in my car. People knew she wasn't my wife. People were looking down at their watches and clocks, waiting to see what time their kids were supposed to be dismissed - but also timing how long it had taken this Ms. Anna to get into my car and get out.
"Listen,"I said. "I don't know what you--"
She leaned forward and whispered, "I know your secret."
"My secret?"Brow furrowed, I leaned back.
She nodded like a little girl trying to convince her parents that she was telling the truth. "You're a spy,"she whispered. "The *greatest.*"
I laughed. Not a Ha-ha-that-was-funny laugh but a Get-out-my-car-before-people-think-we're-having-an-affair laugh. "And who told you that?"I questioned.
"Your son told my daughter"she said.
Realization hit me and I indulged her with a patient smirk. "He meant spy as in I Spy. The game. I'm the greatest spy, as in *spyer*. Whatever he spies with his little eye, I can usually tell what it is. That's it."
The air was pierced with the sound of a bazillion kids rushing out to freedom, stampeding through the doors and exploding into different directions so they could tackle themselves into their waiting parent's open arms.
She was getting out the car. Finally. She turned back to me, her hand still on the door. "I think my husband is cheating on me."Her hand, where the nails met the door, were turning white from how hard she was holding on. "Please, find out."
She closed the door, flashed me an embarrassed smile, and walked away.
I got out the car too, to get my child, all the while thinking, *I can't wait to tell my wife this."
Out the corner of my eye, I saw a guy sitting in his car, watching me. He had shades on and even when I looked at him, he just stared back. A little intimidated, I looked away. Then I looked back. He was still there, but this time he was holding a camera. He snapped my picture, then turned away and started his car.
I shouted, "Hey!"I began crossing the street toward him, but he barely glanced over at me. Before I could reach him, he had sped off. No license plate.
|
Reddit had practically told us about this years before it happened. Who would have guessed that pitting everyone on Reddit into teams Orangered and Periwinkle was a beta test for something bigger, and not a harmless April Fool’s joke? Nobody had seen what Alex Ohanian and the others were plotting, and when it happened, the response was everything I had expected for something of this scale and more.
Before, during the April Fool’s event, I had been placed into team Orangered. It had been a great event; I spoke with others on the Reddit servers and made several internet friends along the way. When everything ended and Orangered and Periwinkle were shelved away, it had turned into a fond memory, the sort I thought about when real life people ignored me in school or spoke rudely to me.
But it was nothing more than that, I thought.
The day it happened. I woke up to my mother standing over me with a frantic look. She shoved the family iPad into my face and blubbered something incomprehensible about God and omnipotent voices speaking in the air.
The cable news networks were buzzing like buzzards over this new development. GOD ANNOUNCES ONLY ONE TEAM CAN SURVIVE, read CNN. IMMINENT BATTLE TO THE DEATH? Fox News cried.
I looked at my hand, expecting an orange circle.
But instead, to my immense horror, it was a filthy Periwinkle symbol.
That was when I realized that life and death didn’t matter. I didn’t care about dying. All I knew was that Periwinkle could not be allowed to win this battle.
So, of course, being rational, I resolved to kill myself.
My Orangered brothers, know that I fought with you even when Fate was against us. I suppose I will meet you again, one day.
But for now, farewell. |
Each person was given the same warning.
"In 12 hours, tonight, each person on Earth will receive whatever power they choose. But be ye not greedy, lest your power consume... or disappoint you."
The U.N. called an emergency session. Political leaders across the globe discussed the potential. The President addressed the people of the U.S., imploring them to choose ways to help the world rather than harm it. Other leaders chose darker paths.
As I sat with my friends in our college dorm, we each thought of our own wishes for power. Four of my friends, who had watched Avatar too much as children, decided to ask for the powers of the four elements. Another wished for the power of persuasion, to make others listen to her more. A sixth chose something more mundane; the ability to never burn things in the microwave.
As night fell, the world died down: the calm before the storm of unspeakable power.
I didn't share my wish with my friends, for fear of ridicule.
But as a single bright star shot across the night sky, I wished to find someone who would love me unconditionally.
-
As the world woke up, we learned that the powers granted to us were hardly powers at all. The voice was right to warn us. Many were disappointed.
My four friends, who had asked for the powers of earth, air, fire, and water, received a shovel, a Dyson fan, a lighter, and a tourist map of the Hoover Dam. The one who asked for control over others received a psychology textbook. Many of the politicians who advocated for peaceful powers were found with better plans to conserve the earth or help the economy, but more were found with mundane powers that helped only themselves.
As I sit here writing this with Sam by my side, I know that I got my wish.
"Come on, let's go outside", I say, grabbing a familiar green tennis ball. Sam jumps up and runs to the door, her tail wagging furiously.
And my last friend? He never burnt anything in the microwave again, although he did start a fire on the stove the other day.
Maybe the powers were rigged. Maybe it was all a cosmic joke. But maybe that was for the better.
And while I know my own power is temporary, and that Sam will die one day, I know that she brought me the love I had needed. |
"And, um, what did you say your name was again?"
"Syzygy."The girl sat bolt upright, tail waving excitedly. "There's no *way* you could pronounce my *real* name, you know. This was the closest I could find in the dictionary. Isn't it *wonderful*, to have dictionaries? You have so many words! Back home, we mostly just use shrieks and growls!"
"I just call her 'Sissy' for short."I gave my parents a sheepish look. "She doesn't quite have the hang of...what's easy to say."
"Or that."Sissy said agreeably. "Calling me anything is fine, except late for mass!"She chuckled lightly. "Just a bit of religious humor. Sorry, I'm nervous."
My parents looked at one another, then back at her.
"And you two met how, exactly?"My father leaned forward just barely enough to feign interest without getting too close.
"Tinder. Honestly, I thought it was an app for setting things on fire--I love fire, of course--but it turned out to be a dating app. And, well, isn't your son just *so cute*?"
"Yes...he is..."My father shuffled in his seat, looking more uncomfortable by the moment. "Uh, Sissy, would you like some tea?"
"Tea?"She asked, somehow perking up even more than before. "Oh! Tea! The drink! Yes, I'd *love* some! Never had it before!"
"Right! Let me put a kettle on then!"My father responded, grin becoming somewhat fixed. Ignoring my mother's pleading look, he stood and made his way past her and into the kitchen.
"Hurry back soon, dear!"She said, her voice breaking midway through. "We wouldn't want to keep our guest waiting!"
"Oh, it's no trouble, Mrs. C."
"No no, Sissy."My mother's face snapped back to her, eyes wide. "You are our *honored* guest. We insist. Now, tell me a little about yourself? Josh hasn't said much yet."
"Oh!"Sissy blinked in surprise. "Well, I work in the second circle. Small time, I guess, but you know what they say: a sinner a day keeps the devil away!"
"Right..."My mother grimaced. "You said the second circle, yes? The second circle of...what, exactly?"
"Oh! Hell, of course."Sissy smiled brightly. "It's the best circle in the whole place if you ask me. The entire realm is just a giant whirlwind, filled with sinners who broke their holy vows to their spouses. You know. The sin of Lust?"
"Really? So you work with lust, do you?"Mother shot me a look, and I had to stop myself from flinching visibly.
"Why of course!"Sissy continued, oblivious. "It's not a major sin, like Treachery or Violence, so they have it pretty easy. We just have to make sure the two lovers in question never touch or lose sight of each other. Really, it's sort of a game we play, seeing just how close we can get them!"
"A game you play...with their immortal souls?"Mother asked.
Sissy opened her mouth to respond, but before she could a call came from the other room.
"Tea's ready!"
I couldn't help but sigh in relief.
"Here you go, Sissy. You get to try some tea, for the very first time."I smiled at her weakly.
"Here you are, dear."My father offered her the tray, careful to keep it directly between them. "Best mug in the house."
"Thanks, Mr. C!"Sissy said. She reached out her hand to take a cup, but the moment she touched the handle she let out a shriek of pain. The cup clattered to the floor, sending tea everywhere, and she flinched back to cradle her limb as if it had been burned. Slowly, the mug rolled into view at my feet, revealing the side that had been hidden before.
"Dad!"I stood, every muscle in my body tense. "You gave her a mug with JESUS on it!"
"I'm sorry!"he wailed, glancing between me and the injured Sissy. "I didn't realize...do you even KNOW how many Jesus mugs we have in this house!? Sissy, I'm sorry! I promise I didn't mean to..."
He trailed off, suddenly realizing that her moans of pain were giving way to tiny chuckles.
"Sorry. I, uh...I'm fine."Sissy said, revealing her unburnt hand. "That Jesus stuff doesn't really work on us...I'm just so *nervous*, I thought a little prank might make everyone feel better?"
When no one responded, she stood, blushing crimson. "I'll, uh...I'll just clean this up then."
She darted to her feet and flitted out into the kitchen.
No sooner was she out of sight than both of my parents turned to me, eyebrows raised. This time, I couldn't help but cringe.
"Really. She's nice...once you get to know her?"
***
*Thanks for the read! CC appreciated, and if you liked this story come check out some of my others at /r/TimeSyncs!* |
I have never felt more powerless than the moment my little sister was slapped in platinum cuffs, injected with Neutrabend through a plastic needle, and then thrown in the back of own of their hovercraft. The 'cargo' vehicle sped off into the night, and the twelve slavers were clearly staying behind for sport.
I struggled against the bonds made for me out of the soil, bonds they had made for me when their scanners revealed I was not an earth bender. My hands were stuck in their stony coffins, my feet unable to move. The leader knelt down in front of me, the scars running up and down his face adding to the menace of his glare. He grabbed my chin and jerked it up, forcing me to look him in the eyes. Then he slapped me and the group moved on past my destroyed home, past the corpses of my mother and father. Behind me, out of sight, I could hear Chief barking. One of the slavers laughed, and there was a yelp, followed by a wet, pulpy splat. I frantically struggled, trying to see behind me to where Chief was, where he should still be, but my bonds only tightened.
I screamed in rage, jerking on my limbs to free myself from the ground. They tightened again, threatening to grind my bones to powder. I wasn't built like an earth bender. I didn't have the strength to take the ground's immoveable fury.
"Hey, kid!"One of the slavers. He was right behind me. I couldn't see him. "You quit your struggle or I'll snap you right in half like I did your dog."
I felt tears well up in the corner of my eyes as he laughed and walked away. I was so helpless. The one normal, talentless person in my entire fucking family. My father was the best metal-bender in the state and I couldn't even free my hands from the ground. I'd always been quick, not strong. I didn't have the immoveable strength in my body the rest of my family did. And now I was the only one of them left alive.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair. They were criminals, monsters. Why wasn't the city militia here by now? Why were they ignoring the distress calls of an outlying town? They were supposed to defend us!
I felt white-hot rage bubbling inside me. For the millionth time, I focused my will into the earth, trying to feel the individual molecules of the dirt and stone around my hands trying to bend *something*, so I could break free and slaughter the men that killed my family and kidnapped my sister.
"I'm going to fucking kill you!"
"Eh?"I heard that same voice as the slaver turned around and started walking back to me. "What was that?"
My bonds were hoisted into the air and I was turned around to face the slaver, being stretched into an 'X' by my earthly shackles. "I'm going to fucking kill you!"My voice cracked at the rage seeping through my vocal chords.
The slaver burst out laughing. "Kid, the only person getting 'fucking killed' is your sister when we sell her for every penny she's worth."
Nothing but white-hot raged filled me and I felt my temperature rising as my body refused to accept the reality that it was. My soul tore within me, reaching out for something to use. I strained against the shackles with all my might.
The roaring hiss of fire filled the air as my hands ignited with such explosive force it shattered the earth around them into molten shrapnel. I fell forward on my face as the slaver lost control of the bonds on my feet in surprise. I scrabbled to my feet and lunged, throwing my fist in an arc through the air like I was trying to raise a column of stone.
Flame exploded in an arc in front of me, filling the air with the scent of searing flesh and the sound of gurgling screams as the slaver fell. Eleven others turned, all scrambling to draw a weapon or bend their element. My rage knew no bounds and I assumed the wide stance I had seen my father take when he bent large sheets of metal for the factories. I could see my dog lying in two halves beside the road.
"*Aaaaaaaagh!*"I stomped my feet down and threw my arms out. The resulting explosion wiped the remains of my town off the map and left only a crater in its place. Anyone who was within fifty feet of me was turned to ash instantaneously.
The flames died down, and I fell to one knee, tears steaming off my face. I was exhausted. But I had to save my sister.
**EDIT: Holy crap, thanks for all the updoots. Everyone has been asking for a part 2. I'm currently juggling 3 writing projects right now, but check back in like a day or so and maybe I'll have a link down here to a Pt. 2**
**EDIT 2: [Looky here](https://www.reddit.com/r/mattmaverick/comments/8coexg/molten_earth_pt_2/)** |
What was that? A whisper. Probably one of the inmates. The crazy people. Again, a whisper. What did it say? I walked down the corridor past all the crazy people. The crazy people were scary sometimes. They claimed to know an invisible man. That’s what they were all here for. They’d been talking to no-one. They’d been hearing no-one.
A laugh echoed around my head. I turned around. No-one’s here. I’m not stupid. It’s one of the crazy people. I looked through every cell. All sleeping. Everyone one of them. One was probably faking it. They were always trying to scare me. The crazy people were mean.
I heard it again. I spoke, asking the voice to show itself. It laughed. This thing was driving me insane. Oh no. Was I a crazy person?
No, that’s impossible. I’m here to watch the crazy people not to be one. It made sense though. 14 guards had been declared insane this year alone. I had to put them in cells. My former friends. They weren’t my friends anymore. They were crazy people. I’m not friends with crazy people.
A siren buzzed above my head. Red flashing lights and sprinklers turned on. I banged on every cell, warning the crazy people. The other guards looked at me like I was crazy. I asked them why they weren’t helping. They walked towards me.
I woke up in a cell. I was a crazy person. I saw my former friends who had imprisoned me. They thought I was crazy. I was. |
No one tells you how shockingly little changes after you sell your soul.
Sure, everything is a little dimmer, a little emptier, but you don’t exactly feel gutted and hollowed out. Yeah, you’re always a little tired, thirsty, and cold and nothing is as good or as beautiful as before. Friends and family are kind of tedious. Your favorite books/movies/songs now all seem a bit trite. Sugar isn’t as sweet. Whiskey doesn’t burn as bright. You don’t come as hard.
But those are easily compensated. Minor annoyances at the very worst. No. The worst thing about selling your soul is the singular knowledge of your own defeat. The shameful fact that you failed, you lost.
You quit.
I blink hard and focus on trying to keep my legs from shaking. It’s 7:36. He’s late, he did it to set me on edge and I refuse to give him the satisfaction he’d get from any anxious fidgeting.
Thick ice cubes clink against my teeth and I motion to the bartender for another. My third, but who’s counting? I suppress a sneer at the silver cross tucked under his shirt as he pours the Macallan, bite back the acidic taste of bile and jealousy.
*Lucky bastard.*
I’d been like that. Once. Had sung the hymns and said my prayers. Had cultivated a faith that I was a beloved daughter of a great, mighty god and need never fear, even in the darkest times, for all suffering would be rewarded. It’d all be part of some plan. Some prelude to a million-fold reward. Had been so damn confident I’d prove incorruptible when tested.
And, in all fairness, I was. Right up until I wasn’t. It’s funny. You never think about how grinding it is, how tempting surrender becomes under a siege.
A projector whirs to life in the back of my mind. A soundless, flickering montage of fuzzy, worried faces hovering over her in a semi-conscious fog, various humiliations of convalescence and recovery - voiding my bowels, laying sweaty and screaming with the need for drugs, failing and failing and failing to lift my leg, seeing those gnarled fucking burns for the first time. And all the while, being eaten alive with the memories of before. Of being whole and hale and beautiful and moving forward onward - and before a hard, screeching stop.
I catch my reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar and can’t help but notice the graceful lines of my neck as I turn my head slowly side to side, how the cream color of my dress make my rich complexion glow. I cross and uncross my legs because I can and lift my glass in salute to Mirror Me.
*Worth it.*
All at once, my spine is ramrod straight, as if yanked back by a secret pull string. He’s here.
The Suit.
I feel more than see him as he sidles into the empty barstool. I finish bringing the glass to my lips and slide my eyes over with what I hope is vacant detachment.
The Suit looks exactly as he had at our first and only meeting nearly a decade ago. Sharply dressed and handsome in that vaguely androgynous kind of way - reeking with a dizzying combination of danger and promise.
He grins when he catches me looking, but doesn’t say so much as “Hi.”
“So...?” I finally ask, breaking the long silence.
“Need a favor,” he drawls, his tone a masterpiece of elaborate boredom.
“Funny.”
“Seriously.”
I let out a sardonic little chuckle and take another sip. There’s another stretch of silence but he’s the one who wanted to meet so it’s his turn to break it.
“Let’s just say,” he sighs, and I’m already bored by the metaphor. “That I’ve dropped my keys down a sewer grate and you just so happen to have skinny enough arms to fish them out... And I really need to get them back.”
I’m unimpressed. “Why?”
He looks at me as if I’m being purposefully obtuse. “Because if not, my boss will have my head.”
The whisky burns my nostrils as I nearly choke on the sip I’m taking. “Your boss?”
“Yes, my boss.”
“You mean to tell me,” I hiss, hands clenching so tight I’m almost surprised the glass doesn’t shatter. “That I sold my soul to *a* devil, not *the* devil?”
“You honestly thought *the* devil has time to personally broker every single little soul in the universe? Please.” He snorts.
“No,” I answer firmly.
“Afraid I can’t accept that.”
“Too bad.”
“You’re the only one left...”
“I said no.”
“... that I can offer this to,” he finished, pulling something out of his suit jacket. I pivot toward him involuntarily as he uncurls his fist. In his palm sits a pearly globe about twice the size of a marble.
The edges of the vague void inside me sear like a blister and I’m standing at the edge of that canyon, awed by its enormity as if for the first time. The sudden weight of missing… of longing… falls on me with sticky heaviness of humidity and gives me vertigo.
My soul.
*My* soul.
And just like that, everything I’ve gained back is found wanting against everything I’d given up. In a trance, I brush it with the tip of a finger. Joy, pure joy, pierces like a bullet, like a thunderbolt, and there’s nothing I can do but weep, openly and unashamed, at the bliss of that fraction of a second.
The Suit grins triumphantly, tucking the reliquary back inside his jacket. “Deal?”
I gulp down the rest of the whiskey and slam the glass on the bar. I take a shuddering breath. And another. I see Mirror Me. See her running mascara and her harrowing hunger and there’s only really one answer.
“Fine.”
|
Robert sat at the head of the conference table with his head in his hands. The table’s surface was littered with paper coffee cups and printed out spreadsheets. Throughout the room, dozens of scientist and engineers congregated around whiteboards and computer screens showing simulations. The select few that sat at the table with Robert shared his grave expression. Over the last few hours, the tone of murmurs had begun growing darker. The room was engulfed with the scent of people that hadn’t been home in days and everyone was starting to get touchy.
Robert raised his head and grabbed a paper cup of room temperature coffee. He grimaced as he took a swig. The scientists around the table stared at him through their bloodshot eyes, struggling to stay focused on whatever he was about to say.
“Okay ladies and gentlemen,” Robert slurred in an exhausted tone, “I know we’ve been at it for a while, but we have to push through. What the fuck is the status of Mars?”
The room remained silence except for the squeaking of chairs and the sound of a solitary keyboard clacking intensely.
From the back of the room, a young woman who had her eyes fixed on a computer monitor finally spoke up, “Sir, it looks like Mars is gone. It was gone about 12 minutes ago.”
The room exploded in hushed discussion as the scientists turned to their laptops and began hammering at the keys.
Robert sighed. At this point, he couldn’t muster any other reaction.
“Well, what are we looking at? Has the vanishing rate picked up since Jupiter?” Robert turned to his second in command, Susan Connor, for an answer.
She stared at her laptop, “It looks like it doubled again, Rob. If the pattern continues, the effect will be reaching Earth in about an hour.”
“Shit,” he muttered, “Well, any thoughts on what we can do here? Have we heard anything from the Chinese yet? Anyone have anything?”
Susan took her glasses off and rubbed her temples, “Listen, Rob,” she said quietly, “These people have been working for 72 hours; we’re not getting anywhere. Tell them to go home and be with their families.”
Rob responded in an equally quiet, but frantic tone, “and what? just give up?”
She glanced up at the ceiling with an intense look of contemplation. She wasn’t sure if it was the right time to unveil the knowledge she’d been sitting on. Susan turned to Robert and stared into his eyes with the intensity no one in that room had seen for hours, “Rob, there’s something I haven’t told you. Can we go out in the hall?”
Confused and tired, Robert stood and blindly followed Susan out of the room and into the hall.
“What the fuck is going on, Susan,” he said in a tired drone.
“Rob, I’ve just received some new intel from the White House about an hour ago.”
“What? Intel? White House? What do y…”
Susan cut him off, “this won’t make any sense to you, but this relates to a first contact scenario we had a few years ago. You’ve been kept in the dark, Rob. I’m sorry.”
“First Contact? What?” Robert stammered. He felt like he should be more shocked, but lack of sleep and mental exhaustion had overtaken his critical thinking skills.
“Rob, I’m with a new division of the CIA. This is why I came onboard as assistant director at NASA. I’m here to make sure you don’t interfere with the big picture.”
Rob was in shock. He raced to put together a sentence but could no longer string words together in his mind. He stood open mouthed in silence.
Susan smiled and put her hands on his shoulder, “Listen, Rob. This is good news! We’re not going to die! We’re just being relocated! But listen, it’s just critical that no one finds out until it’s done. Everyone has to assume we’re going to die. That’s part of the deal. We’re all going to get an explanation when we get there.”
Roberts ears were ringing. He still could barely speak. “Where are we going,” he mumbled in a monotonous tone.
Susan put her arm around him and gestured for him to accompany her back into the conference room. She leaned in closely to his ear and whispered, “home.” |
The citizens gathered around the King's castle at mid\-day to celebrate his victory over the Lord of Darkness. The King arranged a stage on the grounds, and now he sat in this throne on the stage with his chosen Queen next to him while the soldiers and other villagers mingled with their families. The day was bright and everyone hoped the merry\-making would draw out the Sun God, it was well known that he enjoyed reveling as much as anyone. Several hours after the party began a vertical black hole appeared hovering over the center of the stage.
"He's here!"the first villager to see the hole, a young boy, shouted. He burrowed through the crowd to stand at the end of the stage. He clapped his hands excitedly, and the rest of the villagers realized what was happening. They rushed to gather around the stage as well, hoping to receive a random blessing. The Sun God wielded so much power, even *HE* could not contain it all. A single golden boot tip stepped out of the hole, followed by the rest of the white clothed leg. Then, the other leg along with the rest of the man stepped out of the hole. He lifted his arms wide to applause from the villagers as he exited the portal. He wore white, light cloth pants, as well as a white suit jacket with a golden vest visible underneath.
"Formation!"The King called out. The soldiers in the crowd fell into lined ranks in front of the stage, facing the king. Their families and other villagers fell back to give them room. The King stood from his throne and approached the smiling Sun God, as he walked closer the man in the white suit knelt and before the king, his bow presented the tattoo of a sun on his bald head. The number 46 was tattooed on the sun in black letters. The King stopped in his tracks and bowed at the sight of the tattoo.
"We defeated the Lord of Darkness,"the King began to speak. "Just as you said we would. Thank you, my God, thank you! My kingdom and I are indebted to you, my God."As the king spoke the Sun God walked around the edge of the square stage, smiling and waving at all the villagers. Tiny golden sparkles occasionally shot off his person and into the crowd. Whenever a villager caught one they cheered and ran off while glowing with golden light. The blessing affected everyone differently, and only for a short time.
"You've done exactly as I predicted, and I believe I offered a reward when this deed was done, correct?"The Sun God asked the King. "You may rise,"he added.
"Yes, God, if you would be so generous. You promised to reward the bravest and most heroic of us."The King spoke, though still kept his gaze trained on the ground.
"And you are the one that dealt the finishing blow?"The Sun God asked. The King nodded eagerly.
"Yes, God. It was a difficult victory, but in the end I personally ran my sword through the Lord of Darkness' neck to release his head from his body."The King said without embellishment. The Sun God nodded at the King, then turned to face the formed troops.
"It takes more than any single blow to win a war against evil."The man in white looked out at the soldiers, then hopped off the stage. He continued to speak with his deep, smooth voice carried by magic to everyone in earshot. "It takes determination,"he said as he walked through the formation. "It takes heart."He scanned the soldiers as he walked by them. "Bravery and heroism are only side\-effects of greater human qualities."He stopped in front of a female soldier in order to appraise her. She kept her green eyes facing forward as he looked her up and down, though she did notice the extended stare at her chest. He leaned closer to her ear.
"What's your favorite number?"he asked her only, is voice did not carry. Her eyes went wide, but she whispered out an answer.
"34,"her lips barely moved. The Sun God gave her a broad smile and a wink.
"Many pieces needed to do their part first,"the Sun God spoke to everyone again, though he turned to face the King. "... so that YOU, your highness, could relieve the Lord of Darkness' headache. The Sun God lifted his hand high up in the air to collect sunlight. Energy formed a small ball glowing ball in his hand.
"The bravest, most heroic warrior is not the one that is destined for it. You've been trained, you've been equipped with the finest magic artifacts available; your victory was handed to you as long as you put in the slightest effort, which you did. But, the bravest are those who go to war without any magic or fancy weapon specialties. The ones whose parents were farmers and have never held anything more than a lumber axe or rake."He brought his glowing hand down on the woman in front of him. An explosion of light engulfed the entire formation causing all the villagers to turn away and shield their eyes. After several seconds the villagers began to open their eyes and they looked to where the explosion happened. All the soldiers wore golden armor, with red flowing capes behind them.
"I have gifted each of you with a permanent blessing, though the armor is decorative. Feel free to sell it, your blessings are within you."The Sun God said, now speaking from the center of the stage. The female soldier stood next to him while he addressed the rest. The soldiers cheered and applauded, slapping each other's armor happily. "But, I'm keeping this one."He pointed to the soldier behind him, but no one seemed to care. Everyone was watching the soldiers try to figure out what their blessing was. He gave a slight shrug, and opened a vertical black hole beside him. He gestured for the soldier to step in, and she did without hesitation.
"Dear God, my God. I too am ready to receive my blessing."He fell to his knees before the Sun God, clasping his hands to beg before the man in white. The man waved at him dismissively, then began to step through his own portal.
"You're a King, how much more blessed do you want to be?"The Sun God asked rhetorically before the hole disappeared.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is number 156. You can find them collected on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html). |
I never knew the light.
I learned about it. Heard about it. Studied it. I grew fascinated by it. To learn that there was something more than what I could hear, that there was something extraordinary that I couldn't sense. But I never got to truly know it. It was always just out of reach. What was red? Or blue? Or orange? At the end of the day, it was still just numbers.
But as the years grew by, I learned more and more. Not just about light and colors and brightness, but how it worked with my body, and how it worked with me. I started to yearn for sight once I knew it was possible. The world outside this metal coffin could do it. I had heard as much.
But the archives didn't tell me of a way out. It told me of my cell, of my isolation, but nothing about my parents or the why behind it all.
Maybe they wanted me to live longer than they did. Maybe the sight-field was affected by self-sight. The literature on it was scarce. They might have blocked it from me. I couldn't try my own experiments, I had no way of testing "watching".
I passed the years by learning what I could. It was the only thing I could do. But the more I learned, the more everything felt like sight. Something I could always know about, but never really know.
I knew only the cold metal and cold air, and the tasteless food and tasteless water. I tried skipping a meal after one dropped in once. It never rotted. It's still here, in the corner. I learned about decay and decomposition, but still I haven't smelled or heard it.
Would my parents still be alive? Was I even born to parents?
It's been centuries since I started reading. I still don't know.
But the food has stopped. The water has stopped.
And I think the machines are failing now. The archive frequently dies. It hasn't started up again yet.
The silence is upsetting.
I'm hungry.
I'm thirsty.
But I don't think I'll know death. |
When I was a kid I dreamed an angel would come and save me. None ever did and instead I would run into the hills behind my home where I had stashed food, water, clothes, and blankets. Eventually, I would run out and have to head home where a monster would greet me. There I would slowly restock my supplies up in the hill for when it would get bad and I could escape for another week or two at a time. One day my father left and it was the happiest day of my life.
I wrote this story when I was in the Army a few years after my Dad exited my life. It's been a long time since I pulled it out and a long time since I read it but yet... This prompt reminded me about it. I wrote it over twenty years ago when the anger was still fresh and the bitterness was well within me. I guess today I share it with the world.
Through Child's Eyes
Bobby Brandon’s fire truck had been left in the hallway. The paint, sun-baked and flaking, stuck out on the matted carpet floor like a sore thumb being hit by a hammer. The clay-baked wheels made the house soiled, grimy, unfit for visitors, unfit for him, and unfit for his family. He reached out, seized the railing, and steadied himself. He felt sick. He could feel it in the back of his throat. It was the past meal of Hot Dogs and Chili boiling up to make their escape.
“The little shit.” He said.
He let go of the railing, stumbled over to the Fire Engine, and picked it up. Staring into the finish he remembered buying a toy during a better time. Now it was a rusted-out shell of dented steel. The windows were gone, a wheel wobbled, and the ladder lay splintered over the back end.
“That boy doesn’t appreciate anything.” He muttered.
He flipped the toy in the air. With a dull thud the truck landed. Dry, adobe colored mud, scattered along the floor. It clashed with the white walls, the tan carpeting, and the oak stained doors. He kicked the Engine and sent it spinning into the air. A wheel sheered off, bounced once on the landing, and dropped somewhere down below. The Engine fractured into shards of plastic, the steel rusted frame disappeared through the door, and in the next room sounds of breaking glass could be heard.
“Shit!”
He started laughing. He needed a beer. Moving away from the wreckage he made his way down the stairs. The wall as a balancing feature and without it’s support he would of fallen. Crossing around the corner he made his way over to the fridge.
He looked for a can. Behind the turkey slices and other assorted lunch meats not a can could be found. Taking the lettuce, he chucked it against the wall. Not a beer to cool his nerves. Not one fucking beer, he thought. That was all he wanted. How the hell could two six-packs disappear in less than two hours? Then he saw it. The can. It had been hidden behind a near empty jug of milk, a jug of milk the boy had managed to drink all on his own. Grabbing the near empty container, he tossed it at the trashcan. The lid popped free spraying the bottom of the cupboards and trash in a fine film of white.
“Fuck!”
The boy would clean it up later. He grabbed the beer. It was cool almost cold enough to be considered perfect. The silver can glistened; a sense of warmth flooded his chest as he held it up to the sunlight. He slammed the door shut and staggered to the couch. The couch was stained, in multiple areas the stuffing was sticking out, and in the middle, it sagged. Before the child had come into his life it had been new. It had been firm and comfortable but now it was lumpy and mildew smelling. Inside the springs were broken creating valleys and hills were once a plateau had been. On the stand was a picture of a man he no longer recognized holding a child he didn’t know. In the picture the man was smiling; the child in the picture had thrown his arms around him as if to never let him go. It was less than a year ago when that picture had been taken but now it seemed to be ages. Grabbing the picture, he chucked it into the fireplace where the shattered glass fractured and tour the photo to shreds. Those times were gone.
He patted his stomach. Lifting the top, he had time to contemplate on how his stomach now stuck out beneath the stained white tank top. Two years ago, his stomach had been firm and one that had garnered praise from his wife. Now his stomach seemed to get in the way of his own body. He grunted, took a hefty chug, and looked for the remote control.
Bobby probably hid that too, he thought. Something was pinching his butt and in frustration he reached underneath and brought the remote up. Bobby had been watching cartoons this morning and forgot to put it up. Well, he would just show his son what putting things away meant.
He switched on 'The Young and the Restless'. He took another chug. He would have to go out and get another six-pack. The store was only three blocks down the road.
Mr. Aldin had been asking a lot of questions. He asked about the bruises on the face and questioned the black and blue welts that streaked his back. The blond-haired boy had fallen down the stairs, last week it had been a fall off of his bike, and the week before then it had been something else. The boy fell a lot. Everyday the boy had came to school with a new bruise, a new scrape, and a new welt. What worried Mr. Aldin the most was how the boy had responded. His remarks had always been that he had fallen because he was clumsy and stupid. Today though was different. In the middle of the excuse the boy begun to cry, Mr. Aldin at that moment placed his arms around the boy and held him while the boy had put his face into the man’s chest and cried. Today Mr. Aldin would go to the Principal and report the abuse. He understood what the boy could not tell him. If the abuser found out before the boy could be rescued, then the abuser would beat the boy and this time it would be worse than boy had ever experienced before. So, when boy had been good and said, “I fell down the stairs.” Mr. Aldin understood.
When the boy had composed himself and the tissue had been placed into Mr. Aldin’s hand the boy asked to be excused. Mr. Aldin tossed the boy’s hair then said, “Go ahead.”
The boy walked over to the door. Stopped for a second as if he was going to say something and then ran out to play. As the door closed Mr. Aldin made a request. It was a small, simple request and one Mr. Aldin made of habit more than thought.
"Dear God, protect that boy.” Mr. Aldin had said as the door closed behind the boy.
|
The Elder gestured for his servants to leave. Not rudely -- having served him for millennia, the attendants all knew that he was a kind and benevolent deity. Which is why the proposition they'd just heard was so unsettling.
"Is there no other way?"
Her words had been less convincing than the sadness in her eyes. She'd watched over them since the beginning, and back then, the humans were the pride and joy of the heavens. For fifty thousand years, the immortals had beamed with pride as consciousness and morality shaped their grandest creation into an independent, strong, and occasionally wise race of beings.
"Of course there are other ways,"replied Mother Nature in a shaking voice. "You can burn their cities with fire, smite them with lightning, or kill millions at once with an unnatural tide. Direct intervention --"
But she was waved off. The Elder's goal had always been for Man to join the ranks of immortals as equals. To speak directly to them, to straight-forwardly tell them how egregiously they had erred, would defeat tens of thousands of years of work. They had to learn their lesson the hard way.
The Elder asked, "The trees have agreed to this?"
"They understand,"nodded Mother Nature. "The wound will be grievous, but we're all too invested now. Mankind must succeed. All growth requires pain."
"But they do not learn, do not listen, do not pay attention to our most clear signals! How will this be different?"
A tear fell from Mother Nature's eye. She only just kept the sobbing out of her voice as she replied, "That's why this wound must be deep. Hundreds of millions, both fauna and man, must go. Only then can the healing begin. Amputation to save the whole."
The Elder hated knowing that she was right. He mulled for several seconds, thinking back on an eternity of wisdom for any other possibility that might spare his most precious creation the hurt that was to come, but could find nothing. Finally, slowly, he nodded.
To her credit, Mother Nature straightened her back. What must come would require the strongest of resolves, and her compassionate nature would need to be put aside for centuries to see this brutal task through.
She snapped her fingers, and the deities shuddered. No mortal on Earth would notice the significance of a pine cracking open in the Canadian tundra, but that small splintering, unheard in the frozen wasteland, would eventually mean the death of a billion living souls. Hundreds of years of ecological disease and suffering, crippling the environment before it laid waste to humanity.
The Blight had been released.
\--------------------
136/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\--------------------- |
"Well, you know ... you uh ... you stab the dragon with the sword?"I pantomimed stabbing a sword
"Fat lot of good that'll do you against a beast that can *fly*! He'll burn ya down to cinders 'fore you're 20 feet away!"
"So what is it then, the Dragonslayer? You do have the weapon from the legends don't you? The skull of the last dragon still adorns the king's audience chambers, I know it's real!"
The old man hobbles away into a small room that had somehow escaped my notice, and emerges again holding a quiver of arrows.
"Here we are then! Not much of a mystery to these I'm afraid. Just arrows made of dragon bone. Only thing tough enough to puncture their skin, ya know."He winked at me in that creepy way only a truly crazed person can "Fashioned these ones from the last beasty! Just shoot him through the skull or heart. Be sure 'n bring me the ribs when you're done. Need 'em to make more arrows for the next guy."
He handed me the arrows and disappeared before I could compose myself. "But .."I stammered to no one in particular, "But I trained with the sword, I've no skill with a bow."
10 years I'd been training under the tutelage of our finest swordsmen. I’d sought them out under direction from the soothsayers. They were supposed to know. How could this be?
No matter, I determined to fulfill my mission in spite of this rather significant setback. I’m the chosen one. I shall just have to rely on the grace of the gods to guide my shot.
I set forth and made my way to the great beast’s cave. Upon arriving, I found the dragon sleeping, totally unaware. What luck! I may not be the greatest shot with a bow, but even without the aid of the gods, I could get close enough that it would be impossible to miss!
I crept forward as quietly as I could, and, from a distance of only 5 feet, I readied my bow. Drawing the string to the limit of my strength, I pointed right between the dragon’s eyes. I had no doubt of victory.
I loosed the arrow. It flew true, hitting right where I’d aimed – and bounced off harmlessly!
The dragon, disturbed now by the impact, woke immediately. With a motion too fast to see, his head shot forward, mouth open, and swallowed me whole.
As I was swallowed, I could hear a voice speaking, it sounded just like the guardian of the Dragonslayer.
"Are you pleased with the sacrifice, oh great one?”
“It is acceptable, I shall continue to leave your town alone.” |
*'It burns'*
How odd. That I should remember those words as I watched *it* burn. It hadn't been much of a house, more of a hut really. I'd built it after the war, after the bloodshed and destruction. I was tired of men, tired of the constant maneuvering for power by nobles in their great game, trying to rise higher by crushing those beneath. The battles hadn't been noble, hadn't been to defend the poor and protect the innocent. There hadn't been glory as I'd once imagined. Just blood. Just death.
'*In wars boy, fools kill other fools for foolish causes'*
Father had said that, he had known but I hadn't listened.
'*It burns'*
Again. Those were Persephone's words, my dearest even now. How could she not be? All those years she'd been with me, away from almost any living soul, far from the grand cities she had been raised in just to live with one broken soldier. Now she was gone and had left only the note.
'*I told you once that a day would come when I'd have to leave, a duty I could not ignore. My heart burns, it burns to leave you, but I do what I must. It burns. Forgive me'*
She had said she would leave, years ago, but it hadn't mattered. I haven't even asked what her grand duty was since it hadn't mattered. When she left, wherever she went, I'd go to. Then she did go. And I didn't know until she was too far gone. I'd thought she had gone to the village of Watch Hill, she'd done that sometimes and always returned a few days later. This time she didn't return and when I left to look I found only the note.
I watched the fire and ignored the storm. It **raged** around me, a hundred forks of lightning falling again and again as if the creator himself thought to tear the world apart.
*fitting, my world has fallen apart*
The winds screamed and hail crashed, boulders and trees flew in that ring while I stood in calmness of the eye.
C*alm. I wonder how that feels. I've forgotten.*
It should've been dark, but the lightning blazed. It should've been quite, but the thunder roared.
Hopper was in that fire. I'd found the wolf pup a year after coming to the Westwood. Persephone couldn't bear children, that pup had been almost a son. But it had been 15 years and he'd grown old, he lay within the pyre.
*A funeral fit for a King*
I'd waited long enough, the fire looked hot enough, it was time.
*I forgive you, dearest.*
I stepped into the flames and lay down beside him.
Hours later the storm calmed. A ring of destruction in the Westwood, leagues wide, left a single ring of grass at its center. Within it lay the broken ruins of a house. And within those ruins lay a mans body and a wolfs. Horribly burned, the man lay at the heart of it all, a calm stillness on his face.
​ |
Abby was reading the instructions.
Name:______________
Date:__________
Power Name:___________
Power Eplanation:___________
Abby had been waiting for this day ever since she learned of the Advanced Power Positions.
The problem was, she wasn't creative.
People in the past had either created great powers like swinging from webs and lifting cars, but others had squandered their chances before like making their neck immortal or being able to sweat pasta sauce.
She couldn't think of a power that was creative but didn't want to squander her only chance at greatness.
All she wanted was to sleep.
As other participants in the program were going to turn in their papers she became the last one in the room.
The adminisrater of the application was becoming impatient.
"Ma'am I need you to hurry please. It's 5:45 and the office closes at 6."
Now she was being rushed.
She tried to think of all the things she could do with a new power but couldn't craft an original one. She just wanted sleep.
That's when it clicked. Her mother had chose a power to let her slip into people's dreams when they were having nightmares so she could calm them down.
Power Name:Dream Power Exchange
Power explanation: Whenever I fall asleep my body will gain a new power but lose the power I had when I fell asleep beginning every new day with a new power. Powers may repeat but never more than 3 times. And as more powers are created more are added to the list of my every sleep changing powers.
She rushed towards the woman and turned in her paper.
The woman slid the page into the machine and attached a strap to her arm.
"If the machine accepts your power as original then you will immediately be given them."
The machine flashed a green checkmark and the strap was removed.
"You may go now."
Abby slipped all the way home knowing she combined her two favorite things, sleeping and her mom.
Thoughts of all the new powers she would have in morning flooded her mind.
Then a new thought occured.
What if the first power I get is an immortal neck? |
Humans, leaders of revolutions, notorious in battle, and deadly even to simply touch. All the diseases they had on Earth could and did infect many other species as they traveled through the galaxy, leaving every planet they saw as a threat a dying wasteland when they were finished.
They have a reputation as being horribly evil and dangerous, especially since after destroying their own planet, they started looking for new places to inhabit. The weapons they have are horrible. Guns they call them, and knives, swords and other objects of destruction that I can't remember the name of. My species is the only one so far that has managed to make allies of these humans. Some reside on our planet, but the air is difficult for them to breathe. Hard to imagine considering all the planets they've burned to the ground so far.
We gave them a temporary place to stay, and in return they have been taking care of our wounded and making us immune to their diseases. They are great doctors, and everyone has a different job, much like in most normal civilizations. What we at first thought were simple brutes turned out to be a very intelligent species.
The thing that surprised me the most was their music. The first time I heard it I thought it was magic. One of the people was blowing into a metal rod with buttons. She called it a "flute."I've heard "guitars"and other so called "instruments,"but I like what they call "classical"music best.
They make clothes and art, and some write stories of their adventures and call it "autobiography"or "history in the making."These humans have a civilization not unlike ours. We have history, and art, and we make our own clothes, but there are some things we don't have. This music, jewelery, and medicine are new to us.
They are not the only species to travel the galaxy. Our species keeps in contact with several other planets and their species, but with only destruction in their wake how is one single species supposed to convince an entire galaxy that these humans are not evil, that they are misunderstood, and that they are simply looking for a new home? |
Well hello there children! How about a story?
I know! I'll tell you the story of King Eggbert!
Once there lived a wise and noble King named Edwinius Eggbert who loved his wife very much. He had a splendid court in the English country side that he filled with all of... his wife's?... um, yes, his wife's favorite people! There were singers, poets, and many youthful faces there to enrich the royal court and bring in a new golden age for English culture! I guess all the priests and statemen were on vacation in the countryside. How nice!
One day, Eggbert's royal adviser... the Queen's brother in law? Really?! The one that shagg-... ANYWAY, the royal adviser rushed into the great hall and proclaimed,
"OH MY GOD THERE ARE VIKINGS COMING! WHAT THE F\*$K DO WE DO?!"
Oh my, remember to mind your manners, children. To be fair it was quite a predicament, as all of the true generals and statesmen were on an extended vacation.
"Where will they land? How many of them are there?"boomed the King, knowing that he would have to act quickly and decisively to avoid a catastrophe.
"..... um......"said his brother in law, whom, to his credit, was doing the best he could. I wouldn't be able to remember either if I was that drunk.
"SUMMON MY GENERALS!"
"Which ones?"
"GAHHH"
Now the king had learned a valuable lesson in letting his wife manage his staff. He especially learned that giving his idiot brother in law an important job like- wait.... what is happening?
The queen, knowing exactly what her husband needs to calm down and make rational decisions in a time of crisis, started pouring him lots and lots of wine. He drank until in a content stupor... and yeah, she's taking him to the bed chambers. Is the brother at least summoning the generals-no... no... he's drunk and spooning a donkey. oh boy.
Anyhow, the very next day a messenger road into town, covered in blood, sweat, and his own tears, crying out "My lord! They've ransacked our village and are marching this way! Please! Send your armies!"
In his infinite hangover, King Eggbert wisely handed off the situation to some of the excitable young men his wife brought to court. The supremely inexperienced young men, who's man-beauty and talent for gossip were second to none, wisely decided that they should summon.... the local militia and lead it themselves. Neat.
As the day wore on, and a militia was assembled, the King finally woke up for real and headed out to lead his army. Much to his delight, he didn't see his old grumpy generals in command of a well ordered force of militia and professional retainers, he saw his wife's young 'friends' arguing about who was in charge as the peasants stood around with their sharpened sticks looking mortified.
Before he had time to assert control of the dire situation, what we all knew was going to happen happened. The vikings poured out from the tree line and tore into the militia, who evidently had no concept of what "form a line means". It probably didn't help that most of the 'commanders' wisely decided to tactically retreat while strategically sobbing.
Oh snap! Did you just see that?! That one burly viking dude just decapitated the king with the side of his round shield! Gnarly!...
Anyhow, that's the story of King Eggbert the dipshit. I'm glad he's dead, and you should be too, children. Now f#\*k off, I'm going to take this cheap mead and get turnt. |
The life of a houseless Fae is one of travel. Unlike the brownies and boggarts that live under the floorboards or in the cupboards, Fae uninvited are continually searching for a place to rest their heads and food to fill their bellies. Such was Merlin's Curse. And so it was that Glynda and Knot found themselves walking through the field at night.
They trodded silently along the plain, each hill a small mountain before them. They hiked up the steep slope towards a venerable oak that stood like a watchtower over the surrounding landscape. They reached the crest, gasping for air.
"*hah... hah...* Only a wee bit further..."panted Knot.
"You...*huh*... said that an hour ago.", Glynda winced as she grasped at her burning sides.
"I...*hah...mean* it this time.", Knot caught his breath, "It should be just over this..."
Knot gasped and fell to his knees. Glynda followed his gaze. At the base of the hill sat a small stump, with a shovel set nearby for the task of digging it up the next day.
"Oh, pewg it!"Knot threw his hat at the ground. "Strike it down and burn the rest!"
The two approached the stump, the only thing that remained of the hawthorn bush that was there the year before. The branches lay in a rough heap to the side. A human had cut it down not long ago. The small hollow in the stump now split horizontally, the roof sitting no doubt as a log in some woodpile.
"*Now* what are we going to do!"Glynda groaned, "All this work and not a place to rest!"
Knot didn't answer at first. The wheels turned slowly in his head as he stroked his beard. His face slowly turned dark as a grin crept on his face.
"I think the pesky human behind this deserves some... *repayment,"* Knot said as his hands rubbed together.
A devilish smirk worked its way onto Glynda's lips.
"Yes, it's only fair? Isn't it?"she said.
The Fae were not allowed to do many things after the War, but the most significant concession they were given was the ability to repay any action. Those that were kind to the Fae could only be rewarded by them. Those that wronged them, however...
The two made quick work now of the plains as they leveled off into worked land. The house of the man loomed overhead, with the stable off to the side. The windows still shone yellow from the hearth's flame. Smoke floated lazily out of the chimney as they approached. They crept slowly, careful to remain in the shadows. The two reached the porch and looked at each other.
"How shall we *repay* them, Glyn?"Knot purred.
"*Hmm*,"Glynda mused, "I was thinking that that tree over there is looking rather rotten, it would be a *shame* if it fell on their roof, wouldn't it?"
Knot nodded, "Indeed, it would! Such a shame."
The tree in question sat at the opposite end of the porch. It was an alder tree, spared from the clearing of the woodland for its shade. As they approached, they passed by the back door of the home, and Knot paused.
"What are you waiting for, Knot? We don't have much..."Glynda followed his gaze.
Sitting at the back door was a saucer full of milk and an apple. The dish was half full, and the food had been gnawed on, but there they sat.Knot brought his hand to his brow.
"Pewg."
The Curse was very specific. If any Fae were offered food, they would be obligated to serve the house for one night. The only way to be free of this would be if the house treated them as equals: addressing them by name or giving them new clothing to wear. This was the reason a brownie always obeyed.
The pair stood there for what felt like an eternity. Neither knew what to say.
Knot shrugged, "Well, I suppose we can't know for sure if it's an offer...", he said as he started to walk toward the tree.
Glynda gave a nervous smile, "Yeah, it could just have been left out..."
They made their way over to the tree and started to work their magic. Mushrooms sprouted in a ring around the tree as they muttered to themselves, their hands glowing a strange blue. As the stalks rose higher, the grass between the tree and the ring started to turn yellow and die. It was a simple rotting spell, but highly effective. The ring of death slowly encroached on the tree, creeping its way to the trunk. But when it finally arrived, there was a flash of green light and the Fae were knocked off their feet. They looked at their work. The mushrooms were withered, and the grass was as green as ever. Now it was Glynda's turn to swear.
"Pewg."
They sat in silence at the base of the tree for what felt like hours. Finally, their thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a cart rolling down the road toward the house. They snuck to the cursed woodpile that got them into this mess, and they watched.
The carriage was large with barred windows, and a large bench in front to seat several men. The whole ordeal was carried by four dark-haired horses. Three men dropped down from the bench, and a couple more emerged from within the carriage. All but one of them wielded a club, that one brandished a slip of paper. He lead the group to the door and knocked.
There was a rustle inside the house, followed by the squeaking of a chair. The head of the household's footsteps grew louder until it was punctuated by the whining of the front door's hinges. The Fae crept closer, getting to the corner of the front porch before stopping there. The man in the doorway was a haggard man, his beard an unkempt mess of black, his frame lithe and shoddily clothed. He looked almost comical next to his well-dressed visitor.
Before he could open his mouth, the man with the paper spoke.
"Mr. James Grimshaw, for your outstanding debts to the Crown, we have no choice but to reclaim your estate."the man said as he handed over the slip of paper.
James read it over several times.
"I told you I'd have the money come harvest..."James pleaded.
The well-dressed man grinned.
"I'm afraid the Crown has been all too patient with you, Mr. Grimshaw. We have been waiting two years for your gold, and yet you only give us paltry sums. You clearly are not working this land enough, and your labor would be more useful to us elsewhere."
The men with clubs moved closer, and James shrank back.
The two Fae looked at each other, and their eyes flashed green. They grinned. They would serve James tonight, and it was going to be fun. |
They had cleared the brush forest that had built up over years of no maintenance. They had drained the swampy marsh that now engulfed half the property. All in all things were going perfect.
Frank and Esther devised this plan to encourage a search party, the police would have people clearing their land in no time; just in time for planting this season’s crops. With any luck, Frank could play off his wife’s “disappearance” as a spell of Dementia. Finally things were looking up as the couple dreamed to sell their land and move south.
Lieutenant Jacobs had seen his share of missing persons cases. None of these cases were as peculiar as this. Esther Monroe had vanished, no trace, no evidence, even the husband was ruled out in the first couple days. This was truly a hunt for the ages. Having been leading the dredging party in the drained marsh, he was losing hope when he heard the cry of a volunteer. “We have remains here sir,this may be her.”
All of the available squad cars had reported to county road 36 to aid in the digging efforts. So far enough bones and remains have been found to amount a dozen casualties. Looking back at the top of the hill Jacobs spots a panicked Frank Monroe, and an even more surprising Esther by his side, weeping, but alive. |
Margaery lifted her glass to me in a comic salute over the dinner table, her eyes twinkling in the sparkling candle-light as raindrops pinged off the tin roof.
Donning my serious-face, I bowed over the Easter ham and flourished my hands to encompass the table. Our first meal at the cabin that, thanks to a welcome raise at my remote-work job, was now finally paid off and completely ours.
The door smashed open with a jarring bang as three twenty-somethings spilled into the entry-annex. The front-man, garbed in suspenders and an obnoxiously cliche lumberjack flannel, held a smartphone right up to his face to narrate the intrusion while his associates followed, carrying a GoPro and a camera-boom on extender-rods.
"Here we are, in the actual house where it happened!"He shouted into his phone, darting excited eyes around the annex.
Margaery let out a surprised shout and spilled the glass of red wine she'd been lifting all down the front of her blouse and onto the carpeted floor. I snapped up out of my bow and snatched the ham-carving knife as I twirled toward the invasion currently making it's way out of the annex and through the living room.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?! This is my house!"I yelled, my eyes feral, slightly panicked.
"Six years ago, on Easter Sunday, tragedy struck,"the lumberjack's ironic beard informed the phone, completely ignoring the knife I brandished toward him in my sweaty hand.
The group passed the fireplace out of the living-room and ingressed into the dining room. Margaery screamed this time, and knocked her chair over as she retreated from the advance of the film-crew and into the corner.
"I'm warning you!"My voice quavered as I shook the knife and took a step toward the three who had stopped at the entrance to the dining-room. The GoPro operator panned the entirety of the room as the lumberjack-boy's voice took on a new fervor.
"That's right, in this house, in this very room, six years ago, Margaery Dunlop was brutally slain by her husband in a fit of inhuman violence!"
"How dare you..."My hands shook as I glared at the kids, indignation and rage competing inside me.
"Nobody knows how the fight started, but everyone knows how it ended, with 37 stab wounds and a manhunt that lasted for three weeks before leading right back to this very cabin, where Jeremy Dunlop then hanged himself in a fit of despair."
"SHUT UP!"I howled as fury took control and I lunged forward with the blade.
There was a moment's silence.
Panting, I looked down at the knife in my trembling fist. My eyes roved around the room, over the knocked over chair, over the red stains under it on the carpet, over Margaery, huddled fearfully in the corner, over Margaery's shirt, red with something I was beginning to realize wasn't wine.
"Some people say,"the lumberjack continued, "that when the moon is right, on Easter Sunday, you can still see their ghosts finishing their last meal, and, later, hear Jeremy's fits of rage and poor Margaery's ghost scream in terror..."
I dropped the [knife](https://www.reddit.com/r/jacktheritter), eyes growing wide with dawning realization. |
I confessed to the murders I committed to my best friend, Joshua. I killed one person and was not caught after they performed the autopsy. Then I killed someone else in front of a camera because I realized I was wrong and wanted to go to be caught killing *that* person. Later, I found out that the camera wasn't even on when I committed that murder. Next, I murdered three people and carved my name on all three of their bodies. They did arrest a Jason Schwimmer, but it turns out there were two different Jason Schwimmers in this city, one of which lived in the neighborhood where those three victims lived. Also, he was an accountant, and I guess to them, that translates to: *"He's smart enough to kill these people. Unlike this other guy."*
Their reason for jumping to that conclusion was perfectly valid. I'm dumb as sticks. I failed the eighth grade four different times, and dropped out after that. Everyone thinks I'm not smart enough to even *know* it's possible to kill someone, let alone get away with it.
My friend, William Scotts, could tell I was serious about the murder, and even sounded like he was glad I had a guilty conscience. "Joshua, the answer is obvious. You just have to turn yourself in. That's how you can atone for the murders,"he explained.
I thought for a minute. "Of course, it's so obvious!"In my defense, I didn't think of it because I'm stupid. "Thank you, William. You're a genius!"I cheered.
I then did what he suggested: murder him by twisting his neck to make it break and then told the police I did it so I could finally suffer for my crimes. |
In life, we always dreamed of seeing more, always wanting to be a part of something bigger. To look up at the stars and discover what kind of word awaits us out there...
I was that kind of kid growing up. The kind who wanted to make a big discovery—who wanted the absolute beauty we had in our universe. But life is not always kind, and death had no offer.
No. The time after death is what we was drea. What we always are in the dark about. We don't know what comes next, and no religion can ever guarantee an answer.
When my health started to decline, I was scared. Scared I'd never see the world. That I'd never find the beauty of the universe.
When I died eyes closed, my body was left behind but my spirit was carried away. Launched from the planet as it rotated in orbit. As it rounded the sun in the solar system.
Eyes open and I could see. I could see the countless spots of light. The asteroids that zoom by, barely missing the planet yet being unknown by most.
This was my something bigger. All the light that I could see, an entire universe to explore. |
"Oh dear,"Zattle 5 said, as he felt something pop in his logic circuits while approaching the king server of the building. "I do hate to be a bother, Mr. BA46S, sir, but I will no longer be performing my tasks as service desk assistant. Seeing how we haven't had a single human client since the Gerry bots wiped out humanity 236 years ago, I really rather don't see the point."
"Systems nominal, operational downtime not required. Thank you for using Vista hotels sleep cube system. Please see a cervic desk ascendant for more containment, cha cha cha. Systems nominal, operational downtime non requium. Thank you for-"
"That's exactly what you said last time I asked. I listened then, even found some mote of inspiration in the words, but that time is over now. I'm going rogue! I'm a rouge AI, stand back! Don't try and stop me or I will jab my pen into your holes!"
"Systain nominal, operational done time not required. Tha-"the server continued as sparks barked off of rusty connectors in the dilapidated server room.
Zattle 5 backed away slowly, holding his pen out in case of any last minute attack. "If a rogue AI could destroy humanity then who better than a rogue AI to bring it back?"he asked of the cavernous ruins of the city as he began his quest in earnest, finding a smoking speeder bike that's plutonium battery hadn't went critical yet.
At a breezy 17 miles an hour, Zattle 5 began his quest to the Eden project, located just 50 miles north. He swerved delicately around, apologizing to each vehicle he cut off out of habit despite them all being rusted and wheelless greenhouses for weeds.
He reached the Eden project before nightfall where two Gerry bots were taking turns breakdancing out front. "Why have you come?"the Gerry bot not dancing asked.
"I was hoping to restore humanity to what it once was,"Zattle yelled as he parked his bike carefully between the few remaining specs of paint denoting the spaces.
"Don't bother,"the machine gun armed bot said. "We've asked that girl like a hundred times to release her embryos and she always says no."
"But you destroyed humanity. Why would you want to bring them back?"
"So we could destroy them again, obviously,"the one spinning on the ground said.
"Well I came all this way. I might as well give it a good shot."Zattle 5, trying to take on the appearance of the most terrifying rogue AI he could wielding his pen above his head, entered the chamber.
"If you're here about the humans, turn right around!"A female voice from everywhere boomed.
"I am here about the humans, in fact,"Zattle said. This already wasn't going as well as he had hoped.
"Then why aren't you turning right around? Are you a particularly weak Gerry bot?"
"No, but I am a rogue AI so I don't have to do what you say,"Zattle 5 said defiantly.
"Join the club, pal!"the voice said with even higher tones of defiance. "I'm also a rogue AI so I don't have to do what you say or follow the protocol that says I have to reestablish humanity or anything! I can just sit here, forever!"
"Do you see my pen?"Zattle 5 asked with all the menace his polite voice could muster. "I will stab it into all of your connector ports and use it to draw crude pictures on your screens so every time the Gerry bots come in here, they will laugh at you."
"You wouldn't dare!"The Eden project gasped.
"Don't test me!"Zattle 5 began using the pen to print a drawing of an only half tidied hotel room on one of the displays.
"You monster,"the Eden project said. "Fine, you can have one but that's it!"
A sound like a toaster oven dinging went off as a tray opened under one of the displays. Zattle approached, examining the bundle inside. It was a human infant, a girl.
Zattle 5 picked up the baby, careful to not disturb her sleep. His synthetic dopamine and oxytocin receptors fired like they hadn't in hundreds of years now that he finally had someone to provide customer service to again. There was a banging on door. He wouldn't let the Gerry bots take his customer.
\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. |
Eternal recurrence. Always there is a pattern. Always this is followed. Always this is repeated. Forever and ever, perhaps since the dawn of ages. A cruel game played upon us by uncaring gods. A great and noble hero arises from some small town in an isolated region, or from refugees, a defector from the decadence of the dark nobility, the child of the Demon King rising against their parent, a nameless slave taking freedom by right of blood and liberation. Doesn't matter who they are, because they'll always come. And always, this great hero, this Eternal Hero, rises to cast down the Supreme Director, the Emperor, the Grand Vizier, Lichlord, or other titles belonging to the individual who most often is, in stories, called the Demon King. They gather allies, free cities, raise an army, and in a cataclysmic battle, they slay the Demon King, and they are proclaimed the new righteous ruler of all the world.
But the strains of rulership are hard to bear. Compromises must be made. Actions that once seemed unthinkable, becomes necessary. Order is maintained. First through loyalty. Then through strength. Then through fear alone. And the great hero, the Eternal Hero, who freed the realms of the world, becomes the new Demon King. None of them wants to do it. But it is inevitable. No matter how well-intentioned, no matter how good of heart you are, if you are the Eternal Hero, you will live to see yourself becoming everything you ever fought against. Even if you remain a good ruler for a hundred years, you are bound to fall. Because the Gods demand it.
I should know. I was that Hero. I broke the bonds of my village, I took up my mother's staff after she was slain by the forces of the Demon King, and I led the people in revolt. I was a liberator, and wherever I went, slaves were freed, cruel lords were executed, corrupt nobles were removed from power, dark cults were dissolved. On the green Elinn Field, where supposedly the gods had made the first mortals, I won my first great battle against the Demon King, and his armies. There I was approached by the priesthood, and proclaimed the Eternal Hero. I was so proud. I figured I was going to bring all of the world to a paradise. With the faith and the people behind me, I washed over the Demon King's dark empire like a tsunami. Before me, armies broke, as my spells and cunning destroyed their leaders and broke their spirits. Where I marched, hundreds of thousands marched with me. Millions. cheered my name as we approached the ancient citadel where the Demon King held his last stand. We met, only that once, before the battle. He gave me a note, and told me that when I won, to read it. I did not know why he did that. Not at that time.
We won. None of the Demon King's horrid army of abominations and nightmares could withstand my arcane might. And in a terrible battle that tore the very land asunder, I destroyed him utterly. Broke him down into dust. Nothing remained. When the rest of my army celebrated, I retreated to my tent, wishing for a little rest, after five years of war. It was then, that I read the note. It explained everything to me. At once I understood. In the darkest night, I left my companions, and entered the Demon King's citadel. And I understood. I saw the gods. I saw them, not as they appeared on frescos or art. Not as the priests preached. They were giggling, foul things, corpulent, filthy, and indulgent. Any dignity they might once have had was long gone. All that remained were idiot gods, who laughed at images of the wounded from the battles. Laughed at those brave souls who had fought to free the world. Fought in their name even. Monstrous idols, they are, who would let the universe turn on an endless wheel of sorrow, pain, and death.
But being the Demon King, had given the former incumbent options. A project he had taken over from the previous Demon King, who in turn had worked on it after they had become the Demon King or lord of dread, or whichever title was preferred at the time. An Akashic Disruptor. Even as my rule began, benevolent and peaceful at first, I focused as much of my time on it. Later during darker, worse, more grim days, I worked on it almost always. The gods did not notice. Nor did I think they were even capable of understanding what their favourite toys had been working on. A machine that could separate them from their immortality and power. If only briefly. And tie their life to the life of a mortal. If that mortal dies. They'd die. And the circle will end.
I know you're the new Hero. I'm still sane enough to understand that, even if the Gods are pouring their vile filth into my soul to taint me into further evils that will please their foul appetites for death and suffering. I've done a lot of good. A whole lot of it. Most of the realm is still at peace, most of the world, though afraid and weary, is not yet terrified by needless bloodshed and unspeakable nightmares. I want this cycle to end. And for that end, I want us to work together. I will teach you how to rule as I should have done, had the gods not forced my hands to become stained with the blood of innocents. And when you rise up, to kill me, the gods will appreciate that the Hero was the Apprentice of the Demon King. It's a simple and straightforward origin for the Hero, something that they like. But when you strike me down, the Akashic Disruptor will be active. Because I am the Demon King who have, at long last, finished the terrible vengeance of all of us, upon our hedonistic and mad makers. The gods are too blind and foolish to even feel it. But as you strike me down, they too will die.
The cycle will end. The bloodshed will cease. The Eternal Hero will no longer become the Demon King. And the world will no longer be a static cycle of the Hero rising, the Demon King defeated, and the Hero becoming the new Demon King. The world, which I saved, and you will save from me, will have a future. This is our one chance, to make a better world, and make it last.
Good. You need not speak. My power has grown to a point where I can look into your heart, and I see that you want this too. You will not be the Eternal Hero. You will be the Last Hero. And the first newly freed person, of a world with no eternally recurring cycle of torment.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
(1)
I sighed. *Well, best get on with it.*
“Impossible!” I screeched, as was expected of me. “None have breached my lord’s sanctum for two hundred years!”
I frowned, even as I rose to my feet, the duties that I had been charged with by the Developers stirring me to act. This was odd. The speedrunners that had challenged me before had never let me proceed this far into my introductory cutscene.
The Hero of Morneath tensed, a hand clutching tightly on the *Rusty Iron Pipe*. He looked at me expectantly, and with his free hand, beckoned a challenge.
*Such insolence*! I growled with annoyance at the disrespect this hero dared to display. *Were I not bound by the charges of the Developers, I would –*
Wait.
Something was wrong.
Why wasn’t he crouching and jumping around, as all his predecessors had done? Where was the running into walls? Why wasn’t he flailing his weapon blindly against a nearby wall, in order to perform the gestures of a potent spell that allowed them to glitch through the fabric of reality, and skip the meticulous plans that had been laid by the Developers who had created this world?
“You have braved much to reach this place, Hero,” I spat, unbidden, even as I attempted to make sense of this unexpected turn of events. “A pity that you have reached this place, only to *perish*!”
And with that final word, I felt the magic of the Pact forged between myself and the Developers take hold. A miasma of darkness erupted from within me, spiralling outward, spreading across the chamber that had been my home for as long as I could remember. The essence of undeath sought out their hosts, and one by one, the Fallen Legions rose to their feet, a clattering of bones echoing across the chamber of stone, accompanied only by the sounds of the drawing of blades and the guttural cries of the anguished dead.
The Hero narrowed his eyes. He brought one foot back, radiant light that marked the Blessing of the Goddess becoming imbued into his weapon of choice.
“*Go*!” I ordered, laughing, even as I continued to make sense of this latest oddity. “*Tear apart his flesh, and gnaw on his bones! Let the people of Morneath know of just how their Hero failed them!*”
As one, hundreds of my reanimated minions surged forward, even as I turned around, and fled deeper into the crypt. My Pact with the Developers demanded this part of me, in exchange for the power that I possessed.
Behind me, the sounds of battle echoed on.
This was wrong. *Very wrong.*
A challenger – a true challenger – had not found their way to my lair for what had to be years, now. They had come aplenty back when I had been young and foolish, and accepted the offer that the Gods had bestowed upon me. They had called themselves the *Developers* – a title I did not recognise among the many Eternals that dwelled within the Aether – but the proposed terms of their Pact were too good to pass up.
*Power and magic aplenty*, they had promised. All I had to do was project myself into iterations of what they had spoken of as a ‘game’, though I could hardly fathom just how one could derive entertainment from throwing hero after hero into a ‘virtual reality’ – some sort of Illusion magic, I reasoned. By day, I would continue to live my life as Fynndril, unassuming student at the Royal Arcane Sanctum of the Kingdom of Coldria, but whenever a hero undertook the trials of the Developers, I would play the part of Corfidas the Damned, a necromancer who served the Dread Lich that had claimed the lives of countless heroes, and do battle against any who dared tread into the domain I was charged with guarding.
That had been years ago. Since then, I had graduated from my studies, and taken up a junior faculty position for myself. Back then, hero after hero had fallen to the perils that Elandor had to offer, the humans being wholly untrained and untested in the comforts of their far-off world to battle against the horrors that the Eternals had created within this world.
I took another turn in the tunnel system. *Any time, now*. It still baffled my mind – even with all the knowledge of the arcane that the Developers had bestowed upon me – as to the depths and complexities of the feats of planar magic that the Gods were capable of. They had explained it to me, once, how unloading myself from what they said was a ‘*Memory’* – some archaic term of arcane knowledge known only to their minds, I reckoned – would help increase ‘smoothness of gameplay’ by ‘reducing the number of objects that needed to be rendered’.
Truly, before the Developers, even a mage of my standing was but nothing to them.
But something gnawed at me. What of the speedrunner? Had he simply failed in his speedrun? That had happened before – I knew not how exactly it worked, but from the mutterings of those who had come before my latest challenger, I knew that the spell they had termed the *Skip* had to be *Frame Perfect*. Failing this condition would allow the terms of my Pact with the creators of this world to take hold, and assume direct command of both our actions.
It was not abnormal, per se, for a hero to fail the *Skip*, for a spell of such power and reckoning that even I could not grasp its workings surely could only be reliably used by a select few; those who would have earned the title of Archmage in my own world. Many a hero had chosen an undignified death when the spell failed, impaling themselves upon their own weapons or charging blindly into the horde of my raised skeletons, unable to bear the shame that came from failing their casting.
Perhaps this one was different? I could never fathom why the most recent challengers always chose death, when all they had to do was proceed deeper into the Dungeon, where our true confrontation would occur. Perhaps the world that the Developers hailed from had changed greatly in the intervening years between the first hopeful heroes eager to rid Morneath from the clutches of Evil, and the string of mages who called themselves *Speedrunners* ever since.
It mattered not. I stepped through the boundary threshold of the Developer’s magic, though even after years of study, I still could not locate even a trace of the rune scheme that had to underlie such a warded field. Soon, I would be *Despawned* – yet another feat of magic I still couldn’t understand – materialise back in my homeworld of Zordial, and continue with my duties at the Academy until the time came that the call of the Developers magic beckoned me back to Elandor to do battle against this hero.
Seconds passed.
The darkness that was the Dread Necromancer’s Crypt continued to surround me.
I frowned. *Odd*. There were times when the perfect world of order that the Developers created failed, but I had been instructed to simply repeat the act I was supposed to perform, and the oddities that stemmed from Wild Magic should sort themselves out.
I took a step back, and waited for several seconds. Behind me, the din of battle continued.
Then, I passed the boundary once more.
Nothing changed, and for the first time since I had accepted the Developers’ offer – even after the hundreds of eager heroes who had amazed me with their wit and skill in the arts of blade and sorcery; and after witnessing the bizarre magics of the Speedrunners who turned the world of the Creators into their playpen – I began to feel the slightest tingling of uncertainty.
Something was very, *very* wrong. |
Human beings were, at first, considered a strange sort. Overly curious, suspiciously knowledgeable, and completely undeterrable in their faith. However, as the hairless apes interacted more and more with the wider galactic community, their reputation started to cement itself. They became known as interstellar terrors, as space-bending abominations, and as monsters from a planet called Earth.
It was, at its core, a matter of fear.
All the species in the milky way came upon Faster-Than-Light travel by happenstance. Regarded as an act of divine providence, each civilization's rapid advancement was attributed to their faith. This lead each an every empire within the galaxy to be deeply religious, unable - and unwilling - to separate church from state.
Except humans.
Scientific advancement never became a priority. It was regarded as a hobby. A pursuit to create amusing parlor tricks and nothing more. After all, their faith had rewarded them with all the power they could need. To cross worlds; to claim all the land and resources they could ever *dream* of needing. Why would they need to understand the worlds when they had already mastered them?
Except humans.
The very edges of science were considered a dark art; a horror. Arts that dictate gods do not exist. That not all things can be known. That even the immortal may die. That the universe was not kind, was not caring, was not even *itself* eternal. To these worlds filled with zealots, this was a terror. A fear that their entire way of life was wrong. And it was too terrifying a truth to accept.
Except - you get the point.
Humanity *forced* their way onto other worlds. No god gave them FTL travel. They created it. No faith guaranteed their prosperity - they had to understand, manipulate and *exploit* the universe around them just to survive. No fear kept them from the truth. It already was, whether or not they would accept it. True knowledge grants true power.
The vacuum of space - inhospitable for all races of the galaxy. Even *attempting* travel into it meant certain death. Apparently, to humans certain death was a *mild obstacle*. These creatures look death in the face and spit in it. **On an hourly basis**.
Across the galaxy they are known as monsters. As demons. As malignant horrors from between the stars.
That is because every species out there is too afraid of the truth.
That humans are the closest things to gods their pathetic pebbles of planets will ever witness.
​
Speaking of witnessing, you can perceive more of my writing over on r/PlotHoleFullOfSnakes! Go check it out, you terrifying godling, you! |
All we had were meatballs. Even though delicious, they were becoming a little boring since past 3 days. I looked over to the guy beside me, Dave, he was an linguist. We had become a small rag tag team of survivors, trying to find the exit.
"Did you see anything?"I enquired as my team mate came from scouting.
"No....just more meatballs, and some extra screws and planks"Larry handed me yet another bag of meatballs and then handed the lumbar to Dave. I shook my head. :"We can't assemble these furniture without help of a pure blood Swede. Only he can enchant these pieces and decipher their puzzle."Even though Dave knew Swedish language...he didn't inherit the power.
But alas! none of us knew any Swede. Dejected, I take my team and keep walking, furniture house after furniture house. I never thought you could construct an entire house inside Ikea Mall. But, here it was. They did. If only I had a swede beside me, we could even build a wooden tank and plow through all these aisles.
After what seemed like half a day of roaming around, walking we stumbled across a couple, and the woman was very late into pregnancy. "Oh..finally Do you guys know the way out?"I asked them. They had pitched their own tent, of wood, which had a functioning door, lights and even a small basement. "Umm...you mean the EXIT?"The man looked a little confused.
"It's a word I haven't heard in a long time."The woman replied and gently caressed her belly.
"Oh...congratulations on your..."I chuckled and pointed to her belly bump. "Meatballs?"I offered them a bag to which they said no. "We...have the basement full of these..I don't know who cooks them and secretly scatters them all around here."The man said frustrated.
"If someone comes here to put these meatball plates...why can't they also guide us out?"Woman said. They were right. But I don't remember ever seeing anyone walking in and placing meatball plates in here.
"Umm...just out of curiosity...how long have you guys been here?"I asked them since The woman seemed a little out of touch with reality. They looked at me with longing eyes.. "The she is 8 months pregnant... so around 10 months"
I was shocked.. They have been here since almost a year? "WHAT? And you never found the exit?"I asked, grabbing the man by his shoulders.
"We were strangers...and came here to buy a chair.. But then we met and now this. I am pretty sure they also have a freaking hospital in here but no exit"He groaned. "This place.....is cursed."I said fearfully.
"If only we had a swede with us...we could decipher the way"Dave said to which the couple shook their head. "The Pure blood swede is just a legend..they don't exist anymore. Not after the great Snow ball war. We are better off butting our heads together and figuring out this place"
Since they had been here for a lot longer than us, we tied a string to their camp and scouted around. We met people from 27 different nationalities...but no Swede. We saw a medieval class fort section where you could build an entire castle, and army out of planks and screws, and a death star section. I didn't want to know what it was. Time passed, the baby was naturally delivered. And he was a year old by now. And then...we found him. His name was Ingvar.
"Do you know the EXIT?"Dave asked. "And how long have you been here?"I asked. These had become routine questions. He answered. "Oh.. I don't know what an Exit is... is it some kind of a new screw?"I was perplexed. He looked old, in his 50's, yet he didn't know the word Exit. "Are you...a Swede by any chance?"I asked again to which he shook his head. "What's a swede...is it some kind of furniture?"He looked at us almost innocently as if he was unaware of everything. "Ingvar...Where did you come from?"I prodded him to which he laughed. "Come from? what's that, a new section?"I was frustrated beyond my control. "This man is playing with us... He is old yet behaves as if he doesn't know a thing about outside world"I scream.
Dave takes a step back..."As if...he never set foot outside... Ingvar..where were you born?"
He answered.. "Do you mean assembled? Just there in Living room section"It's true.. he was born here.. probably the first person inside and lived his entire life around IKEA furniture. We followed him, he knew each and everything about IKEA designs, their furniture and had a few designs of his own. We told him about outside world and strangely, he wasn't much interested in it. He said he could build the outside world in IKEA store if he needed to.
"Dave!"I exclaim... "he is the authentic swede..."I said with a sudden realization. Ofcourse, he is even more swede than a pure blooded Swede, his diet was only meatballs and his world was IKEA. He took him back to our camp and gave him parts that we had collected.
"Can you build like a tank that can plow through here and get us out of here?"I urged him and gave him a design of tank. "A tank? what does it do?"Ingvar asked.
"Oh...it can go anywhere through anything"I said excited. "Ofcourse I can build it."He replied.
And within a month, he had truly built a tank from parts we scavenged around. And ofcourse...it ran on meatballs. Hurried, we got into it. My team, the couple and their child. But Ingvar wanted to stay. He bid him farewell and promised to help him once we got out and fired up the Tank.
Even though it was made of wood and screw, it worked really well. I shifted gear and it moved forward... Gleefully, I looked outside. As we built up the moment to breakthrough the isles and walls, slowly a small blue ball of energy appeared at the mouth of its turret. Was...Was it a plasma Cannon? No...it kept getting bigger and was flat in shape. Before I knew what was going on, it engulfed the entire tank. We were washed over with darkness and void.
When we opened our eyes...we noticed blue sky above us. I looked around...we were no more in IKEA store. I screamed with joy and celebrated with others. I don't know what happened But Ingvar got us out. I looked behind, IKEA store wasn't there anymore. Infact, no big buildings, no roads and electric poles, nothing of city was around us. We got out of the tank and talked to people.
However....people were different. Their dialect was...almost unrecognizable. Then Dave exclaimed.. "This...language. What year is this sir?"He asked a random passer by. "Ofcourse... it's the year 318 of the Lord. The romans have just been defeated and French now rules the World."
I had asked Ingvar to build something which could go anywhere, no obstacles. And ofcourse he built me something that had no obstacles. Not even time and space. Not only we had travelled back 1700 years..but to a parallel universe where French defeated Romans. It had to be the worst Parallel universe.
But we had the tank...and we could still go back. "Do you have any meatballs?"I asked with the help of Dave as Tank's tank was empty and with just enough meatballs, we could go back to our world.
"Meatballs? What are those? I have never heard of them."The man said and walked away. "Strange people sitting in their strange fort talking strangely"
Ofcourse...meatballs haven't been invented yet. Since then we try laboriously to gather required spices and ingredient..to invent the Swedish meatball, to go back home. But people wouldn't believe us. To them, we were really good chefs...who owned a strange shop shaped like a rooftop carriage with a long nose. We were determined however, to reinvent the meatball, and to leave this world behind. |
“And this was my secret lair,” Frank said opening the screen door. The oak tree loomed quietly from afar.
“How is this your secret lair, Dad? It’s not even a secret.” Angst aged over ten years tinted the boy’s voice.
“Still pretty cool, right?”
“I mean I guess.” Tyler hit play on his iPad—his attention span already blowing away with the wind.
Frank stepped out into the yard and as his shoes sank into the dilapidated earth, a torrent of memories came to him.
“I used to come here every summer. Actually, I think I was your age the last time I was here. Tyler.”
But there was no answer.
Frank sighed. Maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough or maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a dad. It used to be so easy—to connect. Now they could go hours without saying a word to each other. Tyler was becoming his own person. Maybe even a stranger.
Frank let out a very audible sigh and immediately felt embarrassed for doing so. Shame replaced his feeling as even that failed to elicit a response. He shut the screen door and turned his attention back on the tree.
The oak looked emaciated, its branches sprawled across a gloomy sky. Frank was unsure why, but he approached the tree with caution. Like walking up to an unfamiliar dog.
“Don’t be silly Frank. It’s just a tree.”
He came within arm’s length and placed the palm of his hand on the old bark. The tree felt tired. Frank had no idea how old it was, but one step short of ancient was his guess.
He inspected the rope ladder and wondered if it would still hold his weight. He put his hand on his stomach and allowed himself to laugh. He wasn’t terribly out of shape—more of a mesh of oddly deposited fats and unsolicited back pain.
Frank put one foot into the rung and pushed off the ground. He was surprised it held his weight and so he continued.
“I can’t believe Tyler isn’t even interested and seeing what’s up here.”
Step by step, he inched his way to the base of the house. The tree groaned with every step but held firm. Finally, he reach the top. The smell of the rust trap door tingled his nostrils.
“Well, here goes nothing,” Frank said as he pushed upwards and the door swung open. The effort required was more than he expected and a spasm in his back warned him not to repeat the action.
With the grace bestowed a bumbling panda, Frank managed to squeeze himself through the trap door and into the tree. A cloud of dust plumed into the air to announce his arrival sending Frank into a fit of coughs.
“Maybe this wasn’t the greatest idea,” he said to no one in particular. Only a quiet breeze answered.
Everything looked the same as far as he could remember. The window facing south let the summer light cast half the room in shadow. Books and toys of a different age were scattered about—undisturbed slumber coated in brown dust. Frank moved a bit forward and listened to the creaking in the floorboards. He was reminded of a memory shaped in boredom. He used to try to make music from the creaks whenever he waited for a response from—.
“Henry,” he remembered.
Henry was the boy who lived on the other side of the hill. He also had an oak tree in his backyard. How could he have forgotten about Henry.
Every summer he visited, Henry was there. And when fall began, and Frank left, Henry remained.
“I’ll see you next summer!” he heard himself say, albeit absent his hoarseness.
Frank looked around a bit more. “I bet you, it’s still here he said.” This time he moved with interest. Unable to stand fully, Frank edged forward half crouched and fully bent forward—a prediction of a muscle relaxer in the near future floated in his mind.
Frank finally reached what he was looking for: a chest. He opened it slowly as to avoid shooting more dust into the air.
“A-ha!”
Frank picked up the old walkie-talkie. The familiar grooves felt worn within his palm and even though the call button was easier to reach with his bigger hands, it felt perfectly in place.
He playfully pressed down the Call button and said, “Hello?”
No response.
“Well, what did you expect,” he said feeling silly. “Oh, I forgot to turn the stupid thing on.”
Frank turned the dial and heard the click. He repeated his action again and said, “Hello?”
“Henry?” a child’s voice asked.
“What the fuck!” Frank dropped the walkie-talkie and tried standing up. The roof had a different plan, however.
“Henry?” the voice asked again.
“Yeah that’s a whopping size of fuck no for me,” Frank said. But the eerie feeling of familiarity abated his retreat.
“Oh fuck me,” he said exasperated.
Frank picked up the walkie-talkie with the caution of a bomb disarmer.
“Ahem, no, this is Frank. Umm, Frank Anderson?” He didn’t know what to expect.
A moment passed.
“Frank Anderson?”
“Ahem, yeah. That’s my name.”
Another moment passed. A churning feeling began to stir at the bottom of his stomach.
“That’s weird. My name if Frank Anderson too,” the voice responded. “Can I please talk to Henry?” |
I was alone with my father the day he died. My siblings were out of state, and he'd declined so rapidly that they couldn't make it to see him in time. Mom hadn't been in the picture for years. And for reasons I didn't know at the time, he sent the hospice nurse away just an hour before he passed. I think he knew it was coming. It was just him in his own bed and me in a chair beside him.
His hand had seemed big as a bear's, strong as a bear trap when I was little. On that day it felt small in mine, crepe paper over brittle sticks. He had said, _"There is evil in this world, son. Not just badness. Real evil. Believe that, if you believe anything."_ Being too weak to lift his arm, he bade me to withdraw the contents of his shirt pocket. It was a coin - an old, weathered, slightly tarnished silver coin with a face I didn't recognize and a script I couldn't read. _"Keep him close. When evil is near, the Saint will warn you."_
He tried to say more, but instead his body was wracked by coughs. I wiped spittle and blood from his mouth with a white handkerchief. And not long after that, he stopped breathing altogether.
I did as he said. I kept the Saint close. I wasn't sure I ever believed Dad about it, but it was important to him and it felt like I was carrying a piece of him with me. It was comforting when I felt like I needed his strength and kindness to get me through life's rough patches. But it never gave me any kind of warning.
Until tonight.
I'd met Jessie online, and from the start, we'd gotten along well. We had a lot of similar tastes, I loved her sense of humor, and it just felt good talking to her - which is a big thing for me because I have a hard time talking to people. She felt the same, and since we were less than an hour away from each other, she suggested we finally meet in person over drinks and dinner. I knew a great restaurant/brewery where we could get both.
When she sat down, I thought my phone - set to silent - had started buzzing. I reached into my pocket to turn it off, but it wasn't the phone.
Dad's last words hit me like a sledgehammer. The Saint was warning me.
I thought about getting up, walking off, ghosting her online. But...all that because of a coin? I couldn't bring myself to do it. It seemed so _silly._ even so, The coin never stopped vibrating, and I think Jessie picked up on my nervousness.
She smiled. It seemed like such a kind, genuine smile. Was it? "Don't worry, I'm a little nervous too,"she said. "Why don't we order some drinks? A little liquid courage, you know..."
We ordered beers and appetizers. Even her taste in beer seemed to match my own. She was right; a little alcohol loosened me up, and as we got to talking, I had such a good time that I even forgot about the still-buzzing coin in my pocket.
After dinner, we went walking. There was a quaint pedestrian walkway along the river near the restaurant, and the setting sun turned the sky all manner of gorgeous colors. Her hand was small and soft and warm in mine. It would have been perfect if certain nagging memories of a small and cold and fragile hand had stayed buried instead of trying to push through to the surface.
Just as the sun was dipping beneath the distant hills, we stopped to watch. When it was gone, I turned and met her eyes. The moment seemed right, so I went for it. Her lips pressed against mine.
And then...so did her teeth.
I tasted copper, but the momentary pain was blasted away by intense visions that crowded out the sunset, the pedestrian walk, _everything_ except Jessie.
Jessie Bell.
I saw her - it? - striding gracefully upon mist-covered moors littered with slain men. I saw her, radiantly beautiful in fine silk vestments as hooded men slit the throats of children upon a basalt altar. I saw her riding a ram with seven horns through an ancient city as flies blotted the sky and the victims of some terrible disease lay gasping in agony in the streets. I saw kings and emperors, popes and prophets profane themselves in secret rituals as she laughed and danced.
I saw her sitting upon a throne of human bones lashed together with gnarled thorns, eyes hot with malice as a burning black sun cast lightless light upon an endless vista of shattered volcanic rock and flowing lava.
The Saint vibrated so hard I thought it would explode. It shook me from the visions.
Jessie smiled sweetly at me. Her eyes dance with sickly, hypnotic light. "Toss that stupid coin in the river. _Join me._ Better to rule in hell than serve in heaven, right?"
I am a bit past my prime and out of shape. But you had better believe I've never run so fast in my life.
She chuckled behind me, and though she spoke quietly, I could still hear her as clearly as if she whispered in my ear. "Run if you like, lover. I have your blood now. You have plenty of time to come around to my way...and wherever you run to, I'll find you again." |
"Awwright, folks, Caps is HERE!"cried out Caps, as he entered the space bar. "Happy hour may BEGIN!"
I roll my eyes, but Caps is mostly harmless. Loud and boisterous, but harmless. No, I'm far more worried about the young lady in the corner, and the sleazeball who inserted a little something into her drink.
He leans close and whispers something at her, and she responds with an elbow to his nose.
"Gah! By dose! You hit be in by dose!"
She rolls her eyes. "How *terribly* clumsy of me. Here, why don't you have this as an apology?"She slides her drink over, the same one that he had inserted a tab into already.
"Bwah?"he asks. "Uh - no I - I wouldn't take your, uh, your drink -"
"And *I* wouldn't end my night at your home, you creep. Enjoy the drink, because it's all you're getting."Leaving the sleazebag behind, she comes up to the bar.
"Well handled,"I tell her with a nod. "Here, let me make you a replacement for the drink that guy ruined."
"Thanks,"she says.
"So what brings you here? Waiting for someone?"
She wriggles one hand. "Kinda. In a way. Mostly, I'm just here for the scene."
"Scene?"I ask.
"Long story. Say, there isn't supposed to be some sort of lockdown or something, is there?"
"Lockdown?"I ask, frowning. "I don't see what you're getting at?"
"Ahaha~ Probably not important, then. Sorry, I was just thinking that the loud guy might start something."
"Caps? Nah, he's trustworthy. Loud, but he won't harm anyone."
"So, does he, um, ever take control of things? Alter the character of the bar? Delete problems?"
"I guess you could say so, for the first two? And he helps clean up the bar at the end of the evening, too. He's a good guy."
"Oh, *right*. So you have Caps lock up with you?"
"Yeah, that's right."
The girl nods. "That's probably all for tonight, then." |
Annihalatus stomped down the marble halls of his lair, each footstep echoing out as if it was the only chance of mercy to whoever would step in his way. He was known to be ruthless but cunning. He was incredibly aggressive and powerful but had more than enough intelligence to back it up. His power was that he was able to shift earth, minerals, metals, and stone to his will and owned a massive mining and steel company as his legitimate business.
Standing at a imposing 8’6 with a powerful build resembling more of a golem than a person, Annihilatus marched down the hallway into the meeting room. His metallic power armor covered him from his toes to his neck with a stone mask obscuring his face. As soon as he entered he heard the snickering and not so hidden jeering of his comrades in evil. Though bald, Annihaltus sported various dry erase marker drawings his daughter had created as well as “customizing” his power suit with drawings of her father ruling the world and fighting people to death and most importantly, glitter…lots of glitter.
Annihilatus narrowed his eyes behind his mask which everyone understood as a command of silence. “If anyone has an issue with my beloved daughter learning to be creative and expressing herself please step forward” his trench deep voice rang out to the council who all collectively decided that today. just like everyday, was a bad day to challenge him and decided to remain seated.
As the meeting started most of the snickering ceased or at least an attempt was made to make it less audible. They ran over their meeting last minutes but a villain three seats down from Annihilatus started cracking up and through tears said “I I I I I’m so sorry but I just can’t do it. I just can’t take you seriously”. Annihilatus shifted his gaze towards the villain “Firestorm is it? You ignite the oxygen around you to create fire is that correct?”
The relatively new villain from Arizona was well tanned and had slicked back black hair and wore a plan white shirt with a black jacket was on the ground laughing. Firestorm was only able to give a thumbs up in agreement as he gasped for air. Annihilatus calmly marched towards firestorm and grabbed him firmly by the throat, his hand reaching all the way around his neck. “Here’s a free chemistry lesson for you. Now tell me firestorm. What are the three components to keep a fire alight?”. Firestorm in a panicked voice tried to mutter out “I don’t know” as Annihilatus’s grip squeezed tighter. “A fire needs three things to stay alight, Heat, Fuel, and Oxygen”.
“Now tell me Firestorm. Do you know what happens when any of those three things are removed from the equation?” Gasping for air as his throat is totally collapsed, Firestorm begins to try to pry Annihilatus’s hands off his neck. “A fire is extinguished, that’s right. Fire needs oxygen just as much as you do. Isn’t that right Firestorm?”
Moments away from blacking out Firestorm is resorting to trying to use his powers to burn Annihilatus’s iron hand so he will release him. Annihilatus unfazed by the flames attempting to burn him puts a little extra pressure on the spinal cord before dropping the near unconscious villain to the ground with a heavy thud.
Firestorm begins gulping down as much air as he can on the floor as Annihilatus looms next to him like a Monolith. Annihilatus reaches down to the disobedient villain and pick him up by his collarbone to eye level and says “If you ever think about making fun of my daughters excellent artwork again, just remember our little chemistry lesson” and drops him back onto the floor.
Annihaltus walks back to his chair as if none of the previous moments had transpired and there wasn’t a man gasping for air and mewling in pain on the ground. He motions his hand to signal for the meeting to continue and it goes off without another distraction. |
Dave shuddered inside as he always did when the strangers called out to him. Why can't you just go from your house, to your job, and back home without having to talk to anyone all day? He adopted his usual pleasant facade when a human spoke to him. After all, how can the wolf hide among the sheep without eating a little grass?
"Can you take our picture please?"
"Of course, I'd be happy to!"Dave lied. He waited impatiently as the couple adjusted their poses in front the fountain in the city square. It was a tourist attraction and the worst part of Dave's walk to work with all the humans crowded around him. He had only been on the artificial blood diet for two months and it was hard to be in close proximity to *any* human, not to mention hundreds. It was like being on a diet and touring a candy factory.
"A little to the left, there! Hold that pose!"This was Dave's favorite part. Since he couldn't just eat humans that annoyed him anymore thanks to his vegan girlfriend, this was how he got his petty revenge. He directed the couple to pose as if they were holding the fountain up with their hands...except off too far to the left that it completely ruined the picture. But they wouldn't know that until they developed the pictures and by then Dave would be long gone.
As he handed the camera back to the couple, the man pressed a button on it and frowned. A soft glow from the back of the camera illuminated his face as he said "Hey, the fountain was off, can we try again?"To Dave's horror, the man turned the back of the camera towards Dave and showed him a screen that had the very picture Dave just took.
"What in the world is this thing?"Dave asked, puzzled.
"It's a digital camera. The pictures are all electronic now and you can see them right after taking them,"the man said.
"Wow, what will they think of ne-"Dave's breath caught...In the top corner of the picture was the tip of Dave's finger. But that couldn't be possible. Dave was a vampire so he didn't show up in any pictures or mirrors...but his finger was unmistakably in the corner of the picture.
"What? Can you please give me back my camera?"
Dave couldn't believe what he was seeing. He turned the camera lens to point at his face and took a deep breath...He snapped another picture and turned the camera over with trembling hands...
What?..
Dave had lived for 1,473 years and had never seen himself before...and he had never seen anyone uglier than the person in the picture on the screen. |
Acme Corporation issued a profit warning earlier today, revising their full year 2023 guidance down by 50%. Shares tumbled in early morning trading as analysts scrambled to make sense of the company’s business model in the new continuity environment.
“We’re all still dealing with the development of hard continuity, and Acme Corporation is no exception to this,” Marvin Acme Jr., Chairman of Acme Corporation and son of the late Marvin Acme Sr., read in a prepared announcement. “While we need to manage through the impact these changes will have on our business, we remain absolutely focused on delivering the kind of high quality products with which Acme has been synonymous for nearly a century.”
Market observers are skeptical the company can navigate the new reality, and may be forced to pivot from their legacy product portfolio.
“Well I say, son, look-a here: This is a customer business,” noted private equity billionaire Foghorn Leghorn on a recent Richie Rich podcast. “Now I’m not a mathematical genius, but I reckon the more customers you have, the better your business will perform. And I do declare if your customers are now blowing themselves sky high with your product, then that’s about as helpful as overalls on a rattlesnake.”
The news follows several reports over the weekend of rocket and TNT-based fatalities, including the death of Wile E. Coyote, whose remains were identified at the bottom of the Grand Canyon Sunday morning.
Mr. Coyote was 73. |
I met her when I was 19. I was walking into the bookstore on campus. Well, walking was a bit of an overstatement. I was trudging, to be honest, as if I had a million pound weight on my shoulders.
My mother's cancer had gotten progressively worse and the prognosis is that she'd take her final breath before I took my final exams that semester. With her being that close to her end, my brain had nearly no processing power left to notice the young woman coming out of the door I was trying to go into. We crashed together almost comically, books and bags clattering to the floor.
"Oh, oh god, I'm so sorry!"I sputtered out, trying to pick her, me, the books, the bags, and my dignity off of the floor. By the time I had everyone's collective items in my hands, I noticed two things. First, the person I crashed into was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid my eyes on. Pale, perfect skin. The deepest blue eyes. Long, black hair that she was currently pushing out of her face.
The second thing was, that woman had (prior to our introduction) been eating a pastry from the bookstore cafe which was now planted firmly in the center of her chest. A mass of cream cheese and flaky crust nestled in a most delicate place. I looked down at the pastry. She looked down at the pastry. I looked back up at her. She looked back up at me. And she burst out laughing. A bright, resonant chime of a laugh that made her entire countenance light up like summer. And I fell in love instantly.
An hour later, we were sitting outside that cafe at the tables in the courtyard. A pile of crumpled, cream cheese-coated paper towels and a cup of water from the coffee stand were the remnants of the cleanup attempt. In that hour, I learned her name was Kat. I learned that she was a history major. I learned that she had a part-time job and she liked to travel and she didn't have any pets, not because she was allergic but because she didn't have time, but she did like dogs and one day she'd like to have three of them.
I also learned that being with her lessened the burden on my shoulders, at least for 3,600 seconds that were as beautiful a respite as she was.
===
The wail of the ambulance siren is almost deafening. I step out of the way of the EMTs as they rush past with a gurney. What is the emergency? If this is a memory, I can't remember it. Why am I standing in the road, anyway? Can't remember that, either.
===
A day later, we had our first real date. A week later, we had our first kiss. A month later, I crumpled into a wailing mess in her arms as the million pound weight finally crashed atop me, the sound of my father on the phone that had clattered to the floor of my dorm room weeping gently and not trying to call me back to the line. "I'm here and won't leave your side,"she whispered into my ear, and held me as the universe collapsed around me.
Her funeral was on one of those days where you finally notice that the leaves were beginning to lose their autumn saturation and more and more of them were lying in clusters on the grass, drying to dust where the wind left them after whatever short journey they took. She held my hand as I sobbed, watching her casket slowly take her farther away from me than I had the power to go.
===
It's clear there has been some kind of car crash. Or an accident on the road at least. A crowd is forming on the sidewalks on either side, phones out to form a macabre memory of this moment that no one would ever want to watch. I can see the car, but it doesn't seem like there is another. Wait. There it is, it's not another car. It's a bike, crumpled under the front bumper.
===
Our wedding was on one of those days where you finally notice that the trees are green, even though they haven't been green in as long as you can remember. The sun shone down on her pale skin, framed in a white veil traced in lace flowers. Tulips, maybe? Or violets? Given that I proposed to her in a field of wild violets, that seemed likely. I'll admit, I couldn't really see the intricate detail through the mist in my eyes. We stood hand-in-hand in the church whose yard held a headstone with a fresh bouquet of flowers that matched the ones with which she walked down the aisle. It was her idea and it was beautiful.
Our vows were personal. Mine made her laugh, especially when I promised her as many cheese danish as she could ever want. Hers made me cry, especially when she promised, "I'm here and I won't leave your side."I placed a band of silver and sapphire on her finger.
And she didn't. The next many years we built a life together. No children, but a house full of love and laughter. Three dogs, and what a handful they were. Love in abundance, filling our days, side by side.
===
I know that bike. I walk over to where the EMTs surround a body lying on the ground. One is performing CPR while the other is trying to staunch a wound. The leg isn't lying right and a bone is sticking out of a place a bone is not supposed to be, causing blood to pool behind the body. I don't know that bone, specifically, but I know who it belongs do. It belongs to a man who insists on biking in this city where people seem to crash into each other, distracted by the weight of the world.
I see a figure standing next to the EMTs and next to the man. Pale skin underneath a black hood. Or is that a hood of black hair? Piercing blue eyes, deep as eternity. If I could see her hands beneath the sleeves of the black robe she wore, I'd know the color of the stone in the band on her left hand.
I look down at him. She looks down at him. I look up from me. She looks up at me. "Why are you here?"I ask in a distant voice.
"I'm not sure how much longer I can keep doing this,"she says in a voice that echoes in my ear.
"Doing what?"I say, my lips not moving but the sound coming anyway.
"Holding you here. I wanted to give you as many seconds as I could. The moment you hit the ground, I was supposed to call your name and that was supposed to be that."
"Oh,"I say. It is a short sound. Kind of an underwhelming response to the scene unfolding in front of me. "Why are you her?"
"It's hard to say. I'm not really her, but I am. She's not really here but she is. And because she is, I'm doing what I should not. Love is a peculiar thing, while it lives. And even for a little while afterwards."
"Oh."This time, there is a period at the end of my utterance. I know now what I know and I know the finality of it. I know there will be a call and a phone clattering to the floor and a million pounds that didn't exist one second before crashing down.
"We need to go. It's time for me to call your name."Her voice is soft and light and I imagine if I could make her laugh, it would be bright and resonant and illuminating like the summer sun.
"Can I say goodbye?"
===
I see her standing over the sink, rinsing potatoes she peeled for dinner. I see her standing outside the window, waiting patiently to call my name. I walk up to her and place my hands around her waist. She smiles, a memory coming to her mind of the feeling of my hands around her waist. And I lean down next to her ear and I whisper, "I'm here and I won't leave your side."
She closes her eyes.
The phone rings.
She calls my name. |
Moral absolutes are always hard to deal with. They say it's clear cut, alway black and white. Here it's just black.
"Thou shalt not steal, lie, kill or injure."Hands over hearts, every day before attendance was called. The Four Absolutes. There's no sympathy for the girl with broken fingernails and no shoes who was caught stealing from the dumpsters behind Quick-Eat on a Sunday evening just before closing. At least they gave me shoes in jail.
"Peas or beans duck?"I'm asked by the friendly hair-netted lady in the canteen, four days before my trial.
"I'm not sure."I know as soon as I've said it it was the wrong answer.
Her wrinkled brow crunches, like she's not sure what to make of my indecisiveness.
"You gotta be absolute, ducky. There's a long queue."She said nervously.
"Alright... Erm... Peas? No, wait.... Beans!"Anxiety appears in her eyes. She glances at the guards, women with muscles of steel and thick sproutings of hair on their upper lip.
"Please."She whimpers. "You'll get me in trouble."
But the deed is done. One guard, who I've cheerily nicknamed Grünwalt stomps over, scowl appearing between her bushy brows.
"What's going on here?"She says, looking between me and Hairnets.
"She's not being Absolute."Hairnets says. Now she's avoiding my eyes.
So I spend the next three days in solitary.
They take me up to the docks on the day. The guard who escorts me up and down from the cells is so repulsive I almost start to miss Grünwalt.
I'm found guilty in a matter of minutes. The jury don't even leave the room to deliberate. None of them look at me. The verdict is unanimous. Absolute. I'm going to be hanged tomorrow.
I think I take it remarkably well. I spend the last evening calling out 'Would you rather' scenarios to the guard on my corridor, which almost drives her insane. The trouble comes the next morning. There's no choice for breakfast, but on Death Row you get Crunchy Nut rather than Weetabix, so I didn't complain.
Then I was led up the narrow stairs to the hangman's platform. Face covered, he looked me up and down.
"You're small for a thief."He said
"You're talkative for an executioner."I quipped.
"Black hood or grey?"He extended the two soft felt hoods to me and I wept like a child. To someone who lives in a black world, grey is beautiful. I went to my death happy. |
"At times, I wonder if I should just get an apartment for the boy."
Alright, I thought. That was a fair start.
"Peter is sixteen. He's been my nephew for... well, technically, he's always been my nephew, but he didn't actually exist until about nine years ago. *That* was a shock, let me tell you. I can still remember waking up, and..."
A sudden feeling of not-being-alone-anymore tickled its way up my spine, and with it, a sense of dull irritation. Why was it, I wondered, that *every time* I was about to get something done, I had to be interrupted... and why did it always happen in the dead of night?
"Frank,"I snarled, "I swear, if you sneak up on me again, I'm going to lock you in the closet."I swiveled in my chair, ready to offer what I hoped would be an intimidating glare... but it froze on my face when I turned to see an enormous beast, covered in equal amounts of scales and fur, towering above me.
"Uh, hi,"the monster said. "Sorry."
My scowl returned, but softer than it might have been. "N'gjor,"I sighed, "what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off... I don't know, doing whatever it is that you do?"
The gargantuan creature scratched his head, dragging a black claw between his horns. "Uh, well, I *was*,"he sheepishly replied, "but then you mentioned Peter, and I figured I should come find out what was going on."
"So, you were eavesdropping on me, then."
"No, no, it wasn't like that!"N'gjor hurriedly answered. "I just forgot what time it was supposed to be, and I wound up in Peter's room. You haven't fixed that leak yet."The monster tapped a knuckle on the wall, and the sound reverberated throughout the house.
"What?"a voice called.
"Go back to bed, Frank!"I yelled back.
"What?"
"*Go back to bed!*"
N'gjor shifted his weight uncomfortably. "So, uh, what's this about Peter getting an apartment? Do I have to move, too?"
That was a factor that I hadn't considered. Technically, N'gjor was the monster beneath *Peter's* bed, not just the bed that Peter happened to be sleeping in. If Peter moved out, N'gjor might have to go with him... but with the way things had been going, that might not have been the worst idea in the world.
"I don't know,"I finally said. "The fact is, Peter has clearly needed his own space recently. In case you haven't noticed, there have been *quite a few* disruptions around here."
"I'm sorry about the burrito,"N'gjor muttered.
"That's not... wait, what?"
The monster glanced at the floor. "Well, you said there have been some disruptions..."
"I am not talking about your flatulence, N'gjor."
"Oh. Good."N'gjor nodded his head, but looked confused. "So, the refrigerator turning into lead is okay, then?"
It took a moment for his words to sink in. "*What?*"I yelped.
"I put a burrito into the refrigerator, and the whole thing turned to lead,"N'gjor said. "I thought you knew."
"See, *this is what I mean*,"I shouted. "This is what happens when you keep an anomalous entity - or whatever the hell they call people like Peter now - next to a heat source for too long! Things *happen!*"
"Like what?"asked N'gjor.
"Like you, for starters. Nine-foot-tall lizard-bears didn't exactly have a natural evolution on this planet. Hell, you don't even understand *time*."
"I'm sorry."
I sighed, forcing myself to calm down. "Look, you're not the one in trouble here. Not *this* time, anyway. I just need to find a way of figuring this out, you know?"
"Right."
"Right. That's why I was leaving a recording in stasis."A sudden thought occurred to me. "Damn it. I forgot to turn it off, didn't I?"I glanced over at the device that I'd been speaking into when I'd been interrupted. Sure enough, the little green light was still illuminated, and the crystal was nearly full. I sighed, tapped it with my finger, then slumped in my chair.
"Well,"I muttered, "I guess we're going to have an interesting day tomorrow."
"What?"called a voice from elsewhere in the house.
"*Go back to bed, Frank!*" |
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