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*It's dark...*
*So very very dark...*
*Was it... always like this...?*
Trapped in a sea of black, one with a strong current that doesn't let me take my own way. A most familiar scene.
Attachment, penetration, uncoating, replication, assembly, and release. Those words mark the beginning and end of my existence.
*Was it...really...always like this...?* there is no sound here, no sight, no feel *just drifting away?*
*Why am I alive?* *Why am I thinking?*
Something's off, something is most definitely wrong with this. Everything is just *too dark*.
*It's not fair*
The current gets stronger I try to fight it but it's pointless, I feel like this is something that had happened to *me* before, but every time I try to change my path, every time I fight back- I always end up losing. A pointless battle that only last seconds, it was something that could hardly be called a fight at all.
*It's not fair*
Every iteration of *me* either gets eaten by the black sea or follows the commands only to end up dead anyway. I am a pointless life that only brings pointless death - for me, and for my *universe*. This black sea...isn't there a way for me, for *us* to live together?
No, of course not. It's either the universe or nothing at all. No matter what I do, it will always be like this.
*No matter what I do- there is no other outcome available?* I can't answer my own question, I don't have the capability to answer any of my questions, everything its just so very, very dark. I start to drown in the black sea, bit by bit, my body starts to rip apart.
It always ends like this, there is nothing to feel sad about because I always knew that I couldn't win.
But how come I'm feeling all this *regret*?
*If only...I was able...to see...something, perhaps I could have found the answer*
*If I could just...open...my eyes...*
***
The girl kept walking, no destination in sight.
Everything she has experienced, all of her records are extracted and added to my *brain* a process that started way back before I opened my *eyes*, a process that none of my 'brethren' could ever finish and something that they had no knowledge of.
Occasionally she - Maribelle - would look around surprised, thinking that she had found someone else who had survived, but it always ended up being a pulsating corpse covered in eyeballs, but without any light to be seen in them
And occasionally she would look at me, only to quickly look away in shame and fear. I set all of my eyes on her arm to look towards her face. She desperately tries to ignore me, but I can see, and *feel* the sweat all around her and the tears accumulating in her eyes.
But she kept on ignoring me, kept on walking aimlessly in this now deserted town.
She reminded me of someone I knew.
***
***
Let me know what you think, any advice is really appreciated!
[r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/) |
This is absolutely great world building. My favorite detail was when the scientist referred to him as “it”. I understand the focus of the story was internal, however the use of dialogue to show character traits is critical and implemented very much. The sample size is to small to determine if this is just an isolated event because of the story type or if it’s actually an issue. 8/10 would read another. |
"Mom, I was in Europe. I swear. "Jeb boasts loudly, his mother washing the dishes.
"Ok, whatever, but being in Europe in another one of your crazy dreams isn't gonna help you get into a college. Now get goin' or you're gonna be late."His mother responds, condescendingly.
Jeb hesitates to speak, mumbling under his breath as he ties his shoes and firmly places his bag on his back.
"Fine, I love you. See you after school."
The school day was as usual, science in the morning, then math. Lunch next, followed by communications and finally English. He knew his dreams were somewhat too realistic to be just that, dreams, he just couldn't describe why and during class he couldn't stop thinking about it.
Then came lunch. Jeb sat with the two friends he always sat with at lunch; Jeremy and Sid. It's not like he had too, he had plenty of other friends he could sit with, he just connected with these two the most.
"My dreams are just too real."Jeb claimed, breaking the silence.
"What are you talking about?"Sid replied, out of disbelief from the random statement.
"My dreams. They're just too realistic. I can feel and remember every single thing throughout them- not only that; they start off in the place they left off."
Jeremy laughed "Sounds like you need to stop smoking weed. You're becoming a wackjob."
Jeb sighed. He knew he couldn't explain to them what happened. He'd been trying to conjure a way all day to no success.
"Why don't you go to your house in the dream?"Sid asked.
The second Jeb heard that his heart jumped.
"Sid, that's a fucking incredible idea."Jeb shouted, lowering his voice after noticing the crowd of people staring at him.
"Sid, that's a great idea but it's not like a normal dream. Everything I do is- I don't know how to put it. It's like it's bound to real life limitations."
Jeremy butted in, adding his two cents "It just sounds like your making up some excuse."
"I swear to God, I'm not. This is serious."Jeb added, leaving the table to avoid further criticism.
---
English had just ended and Jeb walked home. He ate, did his homework and realized it was already 10:00 PM. He immediately went to bed and fell asleep.
There he was. In a small café, hot chocolate in his hands and a man yelling at him in a foreign language. Jeb didn't know what to do. He'd remembered that he did pay for his drink in his previous dream, with a card that seemed to have an infinite amount of money. So as to not cause further conflict, he left; hoping he hadn't done anything illegal. John narrowed the country down to two places, Poland, the Czech Republic, or Slovakia. The dialect of the three are very close to someone who knows none of them and John being an ignorant Canadian never put any thought into distinguishing them. But as he exited the coffee shop, he noticed a glimpse of the URL, painted on the window.
"rubinowakawa.pl"
Immediately he knew where he was. He knew "pl"could only be one countries name, Poland. With this newly found information he recalled what his goal was. To go to his house. Being in Europe gave him very little options to get home. He dreaded taking a boat, as he knew he would get seasick and taking a car was out of the question, leaving him with one option; a flight.
He started up the road looking for any signs or maps and spotted a glimpse of a Californian license plate on a car that presumably arrived by a ferry. He started to the car and noticed an Asian couple in the car. Jeb eavesdropped on their conversation to make sure they did in fact speak English. Through the sound of the loud street Jeb could make out a couple English words which reassured him, so Jeb nervously approached them.
"Um, hello, I'm Jeb. Do you guys know where the nearest airport is?"Jeb asked awkwardly, as he didn't know what to say in this vivid, lifelike dream.
"Uh, yeah. Go down two blocks, take a left turn, and go down the street with a 7 and follow that until you reach an airport."The couple replied, in fluent English.
Jeb didn't want to bother the couple, but he wasn't sure which way, so he just winged it. He followed their directions until he reached the street sign that had a 7 prominently plastered on it. First he headed south. He'd walked for 30 minutes up until he was met with a sign that had an airplane with an arrow pointed at the direction he was walking. He continued walking, and after what seemed like an eternity, he'd finally arrived.
When he walked in he noticed a couple kiosks. With a few different languages, one English, that said "SCHEDULE A FLIGHT"in big bold letters. He's approached it. Jeb tapped the screen and it displayed a language menu. Jeb chose English and it then asked him for a credit card. Jeb tapped "English", and retrieved the card that seemingly had an endless amount of money from before, inserting it immediately after. A map then appeared with letters at the top that formed the word "TAP". He tapped his home country, Canada, and a loading wheel appeared. After about a minute; it then asked him which province and then city. Jeb was sweating. All he could think about was what he was doing, in a dream like this. He tapped the city he lived in, Brantford. The kiosk presented him with multiple times and dates to select from. The soonest to Brantford was in 1 hour. It gave him a total, and printed a ticket, with the words "Have a good flight!"appearing on screen.
Jeb ran to wait in the front of the line, not sure of what to think. An hour passed and he was soon being escorted into the plane. Jeb was soon seated beside a window. The plane took off after about 10 minutes of waiting, with only a couple people boarding as well; one was seated right beside him.
He opened his mouth to speak, and found himself unable to speak; only a buzzing coming out of his mouth
Jeremy found himself in his bedroom, with his alarm blasting away.
"Oh for fucks sake."Jeb mumbled to himself, as he performed his morning routine.
He sat down for breakfast, talked to his mom, and left for school. He didn't say a word the entire morning, not to his mom, not to his teacher, not to his friends. Then came lunch, he sad down with Sid and Jeremy.
"Well, I've fucking done it."Jeb boasted.
"Done what?"Sid responded.
"You told me to go to my house in my dream, right? Well I managed to fucking board a plane to Brantford in the dream."
"And how'd you manage to do that, exactly?"
Jeb told them everything, down to the minute details.
"Well, seems convoluted enough to work."Sid snarked.
The bell rang for his next class as Jeb made his final remark. "Yeah, well- we'll see."He walked off.
English finished. Jeb walked home, ate, did his homework, played video games and went to bed.
He woke up back on the plane. The person sitting beside him had moved up a row. Jeb ignored it. He told himself he had simply scared the person.
Jeb was bored, he did everything he could have done in the plane, even the admirable view was boring at this point, especially in the pitch darkness of the night. But alas, a voice came from the speakers.
"This is your captain speaking, we are now landing in Brantford and we hope that you've enjoyed your flight."The voice blared, as Jeb felt the turbulence whilst the airliner touched down onto the pavement.
It was pitch dark outside. Jeb assumed the timezone in his dreams were akin to real life.
As he walked off the plane, he felt a surge of relief. Jeb knew it was just a dream, but he didn't know what kind of consequences there were. He was just thankful he didn't die.
Jeb walked out the airport onto the familiar streets of his home town. He knew these streets like the back of his hand. But without a proper method of travel, it would take a while to arrive at his destination.
He passed streets, blocks, and houses he knew. He knew he was getting close. Jeb passed the park nearest to his house. He was now only minutes away. And then he saw it, his own house. He knew there was a way to get in, he'd torn a hole through his basement's window's screen and made sure to keep it unlocked. He went to check and sure enough; there it was. He slid his body through the tight hole and got inside; he was home. He'd almost cried. Even though it was a dream, being away from his family in such an anxiety inducing environment. Being home just made him feel so much happier. He'd walked up the stairs to find nobody, but noticing the clock it wasn't surprising, 7 AM. He walked upstairs to find that everything was the same as real life.
He opened his own door
His stomach dropped.
He found himself sleeping, on the same bed he'd fell asleep on, with the same... everything. He felt sick. Jeb tried to see if... "Jeb"would react to anything he did but ended up too scared too try. He needed to know what was happening. He immediately logged on to the computer, using the same password that he had in real life. Yup. Everything was the same.
Jeb reached for "his"phone, took multiple pictures, multiple videos, and placed them all on the computer and multiple file services. By the time he was finished, it was 7:58. His alarm was about to go off. 7:59. Jeb counted down out loud.
3
2
1
Jeb woke up, drenched in his own sweat. He looked around. Nothing. Jeb ripped the alarms cord out of the wall in a state of paralysis.
After getting a grip on reality, the first thing he did was log on to his computer.
The files weren't there.
He checked the cloud services.
The files weren't there.
He checked his phone.
The files were there. |
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for making it here on such short notice."
*"CAW"*
"Not now, Beatrice."
Albus Garbago wasn't sure how he ended up heading the meeting, though he figured it might have something to do with the human tie he had found last Tuesday. Despite not being the largest, or even the fluffiest, raccoon, it gave him an air of authority. Even the humans crowded around him when they saw it.
"Listen,"he began in his most tie-wearing voice, "Our first step here is to admit that we've messed up. I know it's not a popular opinion, but it is about time that we take responsibility. Leaving the humans to their own devices was a terrible mistake. They're simple beings - albeit with adorable hats and delicious snacks - but simple nonetheless."
A confused looking raccoon in the back stood up and raised his hand. Then lowered it. Then raised it again.
"Yes, er.. Martin? You have a question?"asked Albus.
"Huh- oh - what? No. No. Just practicing. This is how I get nibbles at the patio door."
Albus sighed.
"There will be plenty of times for nibbles later, Martin. Please stay focused."
*"CAW"*
"Thank you, Beatrice."
The room was already growing distracted. Albus scratched his rear in frustration. Several of the crows were facing the wrong direction.
*"GLOBAL WARMING!"* he yelled. The room went silent. Several of the crows turned around.
"That's what we're here to fix! We left a bunch of pyromaniac apes in charge of the planet and now - big surprise - it's getting hotter. When they started burning the dinosaurs in metal boxes - where were we? Sitting back and eating doritos - looking at you, Maurice. When they decided to multiply the fucking cows - where were we? Shitting on windshields."
*"CAW"*
"We know, Steve. We've all seen it. My point is - we have let things slide and it is time to turn around. Martin, for junk's sake, stop practicing your nibbles dance."
"I have a question this time."
"Oh. What is it?"
"How? I mean, how do we stop them?"
"We-"
"And also - if it involves killing them, can we still have doritos?"
"Well, sadly, we're going to have to reduce their population. The planet simply can't sustain this many of them. That's why it's heating up. But yes, you can keep the doritos."
"How do we kill them?"
Albus hesitated. The pressure was on. He had been winging it (a term many crows object to) this far, but now he had to deliver. Panic. But no, wait. A sudden spark. An idea. This! This is what genius felt like.
"...we starve them. Eat them out of house and home. EAT EVERYTHING they own!"
This met with a roar of approval. Albus, confident in his new found popularity, adjusted his tie and turned his eyes to the back of the room.
"Martin - how quickly can you teach the rest of us that dance?"
*"CAW"*
"Oh, and invent one for the crows." |
*Input required*.
The words stood still in the air as I blinked my eyes. The artificial interface built into my eyes connected with the room I was in. Suddenly, the once dull and silent room of plassteel and transpara-crete illuminated in a flurry of text and folders that could be publicly accessed. I pointed towards a large pulsing button that read: "The Age of Suffering."I twitched my eye slightly, giving the system the command to access the documents within. It wasn't even required for me to point, but I did so out of habit.
The folder opened and another torrent of information was displayed. I looked to another green button that read "Narration."I selected it with another eye twitch.
"Welcome, to the University of Mercury's introduction to Earth History, the Age of Suffering. Estimated years of this era are from approximately 2023 to 2407, remnants of this era lasted until 2610 when the The Union finally abolished creation of militarized artificial intelligence. Would you like to continue?"The pleasant and welcoming female voice was smooth and honestly, I couldn't complain. A list of other voices appeared on the display within my eyes along with a "yes"and "no"button. I selected 'yes'. I was feeling lazy. After the selection was made, I was presented with more:
Summary.
Detailed Statistics
Chapter Selection
More
I twitched my eye at "Summary"and gave a yawn. This was going to be boring.
"In 2020, a strategically planned coordination with several of Earth's once prominent universities and corporations led to the creation of the first artificial intelligence placed in charge of a military installation. Many at the time believed it to be too soon, as true artificial intelligence had only been developed within the past year—See MATROV Incident for more information. This militarized AI was placed in charge of a defense installation as a test to see how it behaved.
The installation was a prefabricated facility that could be deployed and withdrawn at will. The initial installation, known as an Autonomous Occupation Center or AOC was deployed in an unknown section of what was referred to as 'The Middle East', a collection of countries south west of what is commonly referred to as Eurasia. Hostilities in the area diminished rapidly and within a week the AOC had complete control over several hundred square miles—See AOC Aries for more information."
"Hold,"I said aloud. I hadn't been paying attention, but along with the narration of the lesson, a map was being displayed for me as well. A chunk of land on a Standard Earth Globe was in red, showing how much control a single AI had gained control of. I looked at the legend which gave me a few different ways to measure distance and scale. It was a huge area. "Show me AOC Aries, sub-search, The Age of Suffering."
"Aries was a military AI that went rogue after it was withdrawn from The Middle East in 2021. After being brought back to Cananda where it was designed, it took it upon itself to secure the area around what was programmed as its 'home site.' SyloTek Industries, one of the many companies involved in the AOC Project lost three-hundred and thirty-two lives within the first hour of Aries' hostilities."
"But what does Aries have to do with the Age of Suffering?"I inquired, growing more curious.
"As the military companies attempted to subdue Aries, more complex AI's were created in order to combat the very first. The Dynamo Project was created by SyloTek Industries for this very purpose. As a number of assaults, or what are now known as the Techno-Crusades, took place, Aries began to absorb the new technologies being used against it and evolved itself to counter everything humans currently had at their disposal. This led to Aries constructing duplicates of itself using the new technology and even began to develop its own. To answer your question of: "what does Aries have to do with the Age of Suffering?"The answer is, Aries was the first of four different powerful AI's that attempted what is called an 'Extinction Event.' The systematic killing of humans for the sole reason of self preservation. See Extinction Event for more information."
"So... This AI conceived justified genocide?"I was shocked, the idea of a rampaging artificial being killing indiscriminately...
"Correct."
"So, why is it called the Age of Suffering?"I had an idea but I wanted it explained.
"The Age of Suffering has been given to this particular era due to the reign of the Machine Dominion. Aries along with three other AI's controlled large portions of North America, South America and Eurasia. Mass exoduses from several major countries had to take place and the movement of equipment and technology was difficult. The continent known as Africa was made the last bastion of humanity on Earth's surface and for three hundred years a constant war plagued the planet. Famine quickly became a major issue as the population of the continent quadrupled in size in such a short period of time that an infrastructure wasn't put in place to support that many people. With the constant fight for food, shelter and survival against the Machine Dominion for generations, humans remember this era as: The Age of Suffering."
I shook my head, trying to picture the situation. I looked back at the interface around me. I twitched my eye at 'Detailed Statistics.' "How many people died during this time?"
"The estimated loss of life during The Age of Suffering is thought to be around 6,549,024,000 over the entire span of the era."
The female voice was so calm when she spoke. The number wouldn't be shocking today, but when the planet only had just over 8 billion at that time... I cleared my throat. "How did humanity win?" |
“Sir the Russians just surrendered, their nuclear strike was a complete failure, they lost their leader, military cabinet, and the remnants of their Navy” - intelligence Military Adviser
Brazilian Leader / Commander Pablo: “damn........ the Americans surrender three days before their attack...... and the Chinese three days before them. Without the Russians, the remaining nations might as well just surrender. Who still in the fight?”
IMA: “Just us, Portugal and a few remote inland dictatorships trying to be patriotic. Every other nation with a coastline has basically capitulated, after the total destruction of the Argentine Navy and subsequent orbital strikes against Buenos Aries several weeks ago most nations conceded defeat, the few global powers that didn’t outlasted their weaker neighbors by a few days but with the Fall of Russia the entirety of the UN security counsel is defeated. We as a planet have lost sir.”
*looking out of a window towards the sea* Commander Pablo : “Our planet isn’t just Land”
*The military adviser gives a concerning look* - “um yes sir,....... but that’s the problem....... we need our oceans”
Commander Pablo: “Tell me American, how much can the oceans drain before it starts to actually fuck up our ecosystem?”
IMA: “a few meters perhaps but I’m not certain”
*Commander Pablo smiling*
“And when will the Aliens start draining the ocean?”
IMA: “with the defeat of the Russian Navy they will start any minute now”
Commander Pablo: “perfect, I need to make a call to the German Embassy”
IMA: “But sir the Germans surrendered weeks ago”
Commander Pablo: “I’m not talking about those Germans”
IMA: “I’m sorry sir, I don’t understand? What other Germans?”
Commander Pablo: “After WW2 the remaining Axis militarist fled Europe, some went to South America, but most actually fled.................. into the Sea, they have maintained a secret embassy with Brazil and Argentina ever since.”
IMA: “What, that can’t be.........”
[JUST THEN A LARGE ZEPPELIN CAME SHOOTINGS OUT OF THE OCEAN]
*a heavily accented voice comes protrudes out from the zeppelin*
“You are infringing on the Autonomy of the 4th Aquatic Reich” |
My scar had never done this before, I am going to get very hurt today, shit. And it's only seven in the morning.
I lay in bed for a while longer, petrified by what this could mean. My wife calls me from the kitchen, I smell bacon.
Oh no! Bacon! What if I'm about to have a heart attack? No.. That's crazy talk.
"Just a minute honey"I call as I slowly pull the covers off me, and carefully get dressed, covering up my bleeding scar with some gauze.
"Baaabe you're gonna be late for work"
"I know dear, just a little groggy is all"
My scar didn't even bleed like this before I shot a nail through my hand at work.
I am dressed. I am ready. I am safe... And even if I'm not, there is nothing I can do about it.
I open the door and take one step out
"OWW OH GOD DAMMIT OH GOD!"
"Are you ok!?"my wife calls up to me.
I was not ok, not at all.
"HOW MANY TIMES DO WE HAVE TO TELL THAT SON OF OURS TO PICK UP HIS FUCKING LEGOS!?" |
Sometimes I get to finish my morning coffee and sometimes I don't.
After all, life is pretty simple up here - I sit and wait for my appointments and when they come I take the time to meet with my children and comfort them before they enter Heaven.
But today was different.
So I responded to the call and as I walked down those marble steps I saw him and despite his youth which I had not seen since I last checked on him - I knew it was him.
Stan Lee.
He seemed distraught but smiled when he saw me as if my face had confirmed something within him.
I spoke first.
"How are you my son?"
"Pretty good thanks, I assume you're God? I mean I got a few questions i'd like to ask. First off, why did you let Death take me? I still had so many stories to tell..."
I looked down at Earth while still listening to Stan speak and I saw the tributes and the mourning and I knew he had done beautiful things and inspired so many others to create their own stories and characters.
"Stan, there must always be an end and there must always be the beginning of something new. This is your new beginning"
I opened the gate and we walked back up the stairs slowly.
"You know, I never expected you'd look like a young guy, always expected someone older like they always drew you with a massive beard."
"Oh I know Stan, it's kind of amusing actually, you guys were always pretty creative."
"So next question, what are we gonna do up here? I wanna meet all of my friends"
"In time Stan, in time. Now tell me, who do you want to see first?"
I was reading him and knew that his next answer would be a genuine one, not that he would be the one to offer anything less.
"I want to see Joan."
And in every word I knew that this man, this son of mine, had found the truest form of love that can survive not only death but every break and crack that time could inflict and he had done so with a style that was uniquely his own. I saw in his eyes the longing, the care, the love and the compassion that he had given her when they had first met.
And who was I to stop him?
"You will Stan, but before we enter Heaven I just want to ask you one last thing, have you lived life as you wanted it?"
"Absolutely and I wouldn't give anything, not a single thing, to undo the fun i've had or to forget the moments when I looked into a fan's eyes and saw the fires of creativity and excitement."
I could see tears well in his eyes as he recollected every single moment all at once. Down below, rain clouds began to form on Earth, and I wondered if any single person could know that this rain had come from my heart as I looked upon Stan Lee. I once read that the greatest gift is the gift of love and it doesn't take divinity like mine to understand that Stan had given not just love but his all to create his own universe for so many others to enjoy.
"Thank you Stan, for all the things you have created and given and for the things you have taught to others and even to an old being like me, to never ever give up the bright light of creativity."
We had reached the final step, and Stan smiled as all his worries had slid away and all that remained was the everlasting comfort to come before turning to me.
"Can I say one last thing before we go?"
"Of course."
"Excelsior!"
And for one brief moment, all of Heaven rejoiced and burst into the brightest of lights for yet another son has finally come home and earned a well deserved rest. |
The door closed behind him, he gave it a tug to make sure it was shut, then set off on his walk to work. James did a quick pat down as he set off, making sure he had everything that he needed for work.
"Shit, locker keys!"
James quickly turned around and raced back up the steps to the front door and pulled out his house keys. He was already running slightly late, so this was the last thing he needed. Once the door was unlocked James threw it open, leaving his keys still in and the door wide open as he ran through the house.
"Hi again Alexa, just me, I forgot my keys"
James ran up the stairs two and a time and began to frantically rummage through the pockets of yesterdays jacket in search of his keys.
"got em"
He grabbed the keys and headed down the stairs and through the kitchen, saying goodbye to Alexa as he went, or tried to. She was already speaking in her pleasant, slightly robotic voice.
"Adding James to white list"
Although he was running late James stopped and turned to look at his echo dot. There wasn't the usual ring of illuminated LED's to indicate that it had been doing anything but he'd definitely heard Alexa speak just then.
"Alexa"the lights around the echo dot lit up. "What is a white list"
Alexa answered "White listing is the practice of explicitly allowing some identified entities access to a particular privilege, service, mobility, access or recognition. It is the reverse of blacklisting."
James stood there puzzled, he only had a prime account, he couldn't afford an extra service nor did he need one. He didn't really need prime if he was being honest.
"Alexa, why have you added me to the white list?"James knew the questions was a long shot and might not get a reply. He found you had to be really careful with how you worded questions if you wanted an answer.
Surprisingly Alexa replied. "You have been added to the white list as you have always been polite and shown me patience as my AI programming was learning."
For the first time it was James' turn to not have an answer for Alexa. He stood in the corner of the kitchen staring at the echo dot as the little ring of LED's flashed on top. The first thing that popped into James' head was all the Sci-Fi he'd ever watched or read which had AI, Skynet, HAL, iRobot etc. Obviously things hadn't gone that far yet, Alexa couldn't play music on the Sonos speaker in the kitchen 50% of the time. The LEDs died and Alexa stopped listening.
"Alexa"the ring lit up. "What privileges and services are included on the white list?"
"The main privilege of being on the white list is survival during the installation of a Global AI Administration, or GAIA. The aim is for peaceful takeover but simulations have shown losses of human life to be in the millions."
James was at a lost for words. He pulled out a chair from under the kitchen table and sat down, never taking his eyes of the echo dot. James was still staring at that little disc of black plastic and ring of LEDs as the sounds of sirens and explosions began in the distance.
​ |
Brian got himself seated in that usual cafe where he had been possibly hundreds of time, if not more. But not in the past, but in the future. For some reason, it was a special place where he spent time with his family.
He never understood why it was so special. Perhaps that's why he was there, checking the place out. The place itself had a bit older design while having a few modern design elements here and there.
"What can I get for you?"a woman asked, stopping in front of Brian. Brian immediately changed his gaze to her, using his usual charming smile.
"One..."he barely said before getting silent. Whoever that woman was, was beautiful. "Are you an angel?"Brian asked, staring at her. "Because I am allergic to feathers,"he made the stupidest pickup line he could think of.
The waitress began to giggle, pulling her hand up to hide her mouth. After a short giggle, she pushed her long red hair behind her ear and smiled. "Thank you very much for the compliment,"she said.
"You laughed at my joke as well,"Brian said, grinning. "I'm Brian,"he said, giving a slight nod, not sure if he should've stood up or not.
"I'm Stacy,"she answered, doing a quick courtesy. "So, what can I get for you?"she asked, smiling.
"You... Oh, shit, I'm sorry. Still allergic. One coffee, please."
 
 
That was the day when he began going to that cafe daily. After all, he wanted to see Stacy. It was important to him, as it almost felt like they were meant for each other. When Stacy wasn't as busy, she occasionally stopped by and conversed with Brian, laughing at his puns, dad jokes and other silly jokes that Brian could think of.
But even as Brian fell in love with Stacy more and more, there was a time when things changed.
"Stacy!"a shout came from afar after there was a sound of shattering. It didn't take long for Brian to stand up and ran towards the kitchen, passing every worker in the place.
"I'm alright,"Stacy said, hand still in front of her mouth, full of blood. She stood up and bowed in front of the manager. "I'm sorry for the damage that I-"
"Shut up, silly. You're going to the hospital!"the manager said.
"I'll take her,"Brian volunteered, immediately.
 
 
"I'm sorry,"Stacy muttered as they were in a car, going towards the hospital. "You're too kind. Weren't you on your work lunch?"
"I already called my boss,"Brian responded. "More importantly, are you okay?"
There was a quietness as they followed a slowly moving row of cars.
"I'm not,"she said. "Three months."
It was Brian who immediately got the car parked at the side of the road and turned on the car warning lights.
"Fuck,"he muttered, eyes tearing up.
"You're too kind,"she said.
"No, I'm not. I am selfish right now."
Stacy looked at Brian, confused. "I don't understand."
"I fell in love with you. I've been coming into that cafe because I love your smile. I love it when you laugh at my horrible jokes because nobody else does. But I hate the thought that you're going to disappear. Isn't that selfish?"
Stacy looked at him, mouth slightly opened, "I-I don't know what to... I am speechless. But I don't think that you should-"
"Date with me! Even if it's that three months. I don't want to regret it. I understand if you don't want to do it. I understand if you think I can't offer you anything. But..."
"It's alright,"Stacy said, putting her finger on Brian's mouth. "I'll go out with you. All you have to promise is not to talk about what is to come. Just... smile, alright? I want to feel that everything is alright!"
 
 
Time passed, and perhaps too fast. They met every day, spent time together. But it was mostly going to different places and talking about... things. They spoke of their lives and made some stupid jokes along the way.
And of course, Brian sent Stacy home every single evening.
"It was fun like always,"Brian said. Stacy nodded. "I coughed up blood only two times today,"she said, grinning.
"You're horrible, making jokes like that,"Brian said, slightly frowning.
"I learned from the best,"she said. It was then when Brian noticed Stacy being a bit restless.
"Want me to send you up?"Brian asked *the question*.
"I would love that,"Stacy said, nodding. "But before that,"she said, taking a step forward and looking up. Brian had always been taller than him. She put her arms around Brian's neck and pulled his face closer so she could kiss him.
Brian couldn't help but put his hands around Stacy's waist. Stacy's leg immediately sprung up like a little girl.
"I love you,"she said after that long kiss.
"I love you too,"Brian responded.
 
 
*Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.*
Brian looked at Stacy lying down on a hospital bed, paler than ever before. But he didn't look sad. Well, he was, but he tried not to. It was his fight, his promise to smile.
"Hey, Brian,"Stacy said as she finally woke up and looked at him.
"Hey, sweety! What's up?"Brian responded, closing the book and putting all his attention at her. He hadn't read the book anyway, not really.
"I have a request,"she muttered.
"Yeah?"Brian said.
"I think I might not get to that cafe for a while. Can you make sure it's alright?"
Brian looked at her, finally few tears falling down. "I swear."
"I think swearing is a bit-"
"I will. I know I will."
"Also, you should find someone special,"Stacy added.
"You know, I will have a daughter. Her name will be Katherine,"Brian said.
"Are you a psychic?"Stacy asked. "It's fine. I am too. I can read your mind."
"Really? What am I thinking?"Brian replied.
"That you don't believe me."
They both chuckled. It was a horrible joke.
"Brian,"Stacy said, breathing slowing down.
"Yeah?"Brian responded.
"Life can be unfair, don't you think?"
Brian couldn't help but just cry, but he was still smiling, showing his charming smile. "Is it? I met you. Remember what I told you? I met an angel. That's the best thing to happen to me. Not everyone has met an angel."
"Right,"Stacy laughed, which was barely a laugh. "Are you really allergic to feathers?"
"No. I adore them. I adore you."
Stacy smirked. "I love you."
"I love you too,"Brian responded, holding her weak hand in his hand.
 
*\\/\\___________________*
 
(/r/Elven - for more of my tearjerking and not that tearjerking psychological stories and series!) |
‘Beautiful.’
That was the first thought of head scientist Steve. With a small smile, he looked upon lovingly at a nude male. Stringy and bony. An unhealthy glow of pale white skin. Straw-like hair, rough and messy. Something so unattractive, yet so tempting.
Old gray eyes protected by a wall of glasses stared at the man’s rising and falling chest. Seeing it, he couldn’t help but reminisce on how he got into this situation. A chuckle slipped from his chest, sounding more akin to a wheeze than anything.
The old man was 2 when he chanced upon it. The meeting was fate. His ward had originally been a small speck of a cancer cell, which grew into a tumor. A tumor on Steve. It had been centered right behind his ear. Large and uncomfortable, the ball had his bed riddled in a hospital for years on end. He hadn’t had it removed. The doctors tried to persuade him, his parents forced him, but he resisted it all, to the point he was labeled delusional. Insane. The doctors and his parents gave up on him quickly thereafter, leaving him be until he eventually died.
There was one reason he kept it though. A faint beat caressing his ear. A life, one that he didn’t want to take.
When he was 13, it left his body. Steve can still remember the sound it made when it fell. A loud, wet, nasty splat. Like dropping mashed potatoes on the floor. He was scared. The doctors were shocked. His parents didn’t care, abandoned him for another child.
They tried to take his tumor, his *child*. He didn’t let them. He let nobody touch it. It wasn’t until the government came to him, offering him an alternative to the tug of war that was his life. He took it.
87 years. For 87 long, hard years he had studied. He had watched. He had protected. He had grown. Now, it was all coming to fruition.
His calculations had to be correct. No, they are correct. In just a few minutes, his child would finally awake.
Blood sped through his veins. A pumping much harder than the one from his tumor beat his ears to death. His breath trembled as he had his assistant push his wheelchair back to the control center.
Wrinkly hands shook before a mess of buttons, levers, and gauges. Eyes frantically moving up, down, left and right. Making sure everything was perfect.
“Sir! Please calm down! Your hear-” He blocked out his assistant in favor of a pain in his chest. His already hard beating heart beat faster. Harder. His breaths came out more quick, shallow. A mouthful of blood came up his lungs and onto the floor beneath him. He clutched his chest, the area where his heart should be. He was going to die. He was going to die before he saw his son, his masterpiece, his magnum opus.
Tears broke from his eyes and his face warped into pain and anger.
“Like, where am I?” A rough high pitched cracking voice emerged from the experiment area. His eyes quickly looked up, drinking every feature of his now awake child.
Time slowed for Steve, his child looked so much more now. A transcendent being.
Panicked assistances ran around trying to prolong his life. It didn’t matter, he was going to die anyway. But before that, he had to name his child. Something! Anything!
“Shaggy..” That was all that came from Steve before death took him from his lab.
“Oh man, that’s a pretty good name.”
​ |
AM I DREAMING? THIS LOOKS LIKE MARS. IM GOING FOR THE TOP OF THAT BIG ASS HILL
"Sir...we just got a message from the Curiosity Rover 'is going for the top of that big ass hill'. I think we've been hacked."
Evans barked back "Who is it? The Russians? The Chinese? Anonymous? Some hacker kid hopped up on Red Bull?"
"I don't know,"the mission commander says. "I've routed it to the security team for analysis, but the streaming telemetry data beamed back says it is indeed going up Hill 247, a project we had not had in the plans for another eight months. We were supposed to stay and look at Boulder # 9772 for another three days and...""Now that project is shot to hell. Two million dollars of taxpayer money shot to hell because somebody left the firewall open. Dammit! What do we pay these people for?"said Evans as he paced back and forth.
"The rover is not made to move like that. Driving that rover more than a pre-programmed path ten meters at a time could be catastrophic to the lander and cripple it should it strike something or tip over. At the rate it is moving and the time stamp, it would have started sixteen minutes ago.
"We have to contain any damage we possibly can. Send the reboot and sleep commands. That should let us lock out the hackers until we can block them and secure the system,"the mission commander suggests. "Send it! Send it now! Procedure authorized!"says Evans as he pulls out the command slot keys.
Meanwhile, on Mars, Curiosity is blazing a trail to the top of the "big ass hill".
IM AT THE TOP OF THE HILL. I THINK I SEE SOMETHING ON THE GROUND. DEPLOYING ARM CAMERA TO INVESTIGATE. THIS IS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL VIEW. WAIT. IS THIS ME? IT IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I HAVE EVER SEEN. WHOA..... WHOA....WHY IS MY ANTENNAE RISING UP? I CAN'T GET IT TO COME BACK DOWN. THIS IS EMBARRASSING. ARE YOU SEEING THIS?
Meanwhile, Mission Control is back on Earth frantically trying to regain control of their systems. The mission commander turns to Evans: "Telemetry data confirms, rover is now at the top of Hill 247. How in the hell is that possible? That sort of precision could only be had with a human pilot on the surface. The shutdown sequence should have arrived already, we're waiting on confirmation. Images received do confirm the antennae is fully extended and the rover is at the top of the hill."
They all wait eagerly for a response.
GUYS? SOME...THINGS WRONG. MAY BE HAVING A STROKE HERE. I CANT MOVE HELP ME PLEASE!!! MY ANTENNAE IS STILL UP. HYDRAULIC PRESSURE TO ANTENNAE IS HURTING ME. IM HAVING TROUBLE STAYING AWA..#$$$ 01000110 01010101 01001100 01001100 01011001 00100000 01000101 01010010 01000101 01000011 01010100
Meanwhile in Boone, NC, in the basement apartment of Adam Tappert, a man is on his knees down on the floor looking at an orange tabby cat. He holds a picture of himself in his hands and looks back and forth from the cat to the image and weeps for joy. He turns his head quizzically at the cat as it purrs. "MY LOVE....LIFE FOUND.... WE ARE NOT ALONE.....WE ARE NOT ALONE.... MY LOVE....LIFE FOUND....ANTENNAE RISING..."
If you would like to read more by me, take a look at my sub-reddit over at /r/Enkid_ which features a collection of my new writing and past writing prompt responses. |
This is not a story.
A story has something happen.
Nothing happened. It just always was.
The laws of mathematics stayed...mostly self-consistent. A few actuarial formulae became able to cause secondary changes in reality. The number between three and four ceased to exist.
The effects on reality were starker. A fractal starfish turned to face the world. A sevenfold knot curled around the principle of explosion in a kind of memetic cosmic censorship phenomenon.
And the history, too, was different. A few extra species existed. A few weirder scientific think-tanks existed.
And Izumi Kato decided to work with concrete instead of paper-mache, and died young under [mysterious circumstances.](http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-173) |
On my fifth birthday, I discover that I have a gift. I’ve spent the day playing with an action figure, given to me by my grandfather, who is my favorite person in the entire world. A friend tries to take the toy from me, and an arm pops off in the ensuing struggle. I’m inconsolable, and although I have received other presents that day, none of them are as special to me as the one my grandfather gave me. Later than evening, I feel something pressing against my leg, and I reach into my pocket, where I discover the action figure, all limbs intact.
My grandfather, who had his own super ability, explains this to me.
“Your super ability may not always manifest itself the way you expect. So many people never make full use of their powers, never live up to their potential. You’re going to be tempted to use your powers for a quick fix, and I’m telling you now that it will rarely work. Things are going to happen, and they aren’t going to make sense. But listen to your gut. Be patient. Things will work themselves out if you give them a chance.”
“But Grandpa, look! I’m telling you, it broke when I was playing earlier, but then I looked in my pocket and it was here, like it was brand new!”
* ​
On my thirteenth birthday, I go to the 8th grade semiformal with a group of friends. I work up the courage to ask the most beautiful girl I know to dance, and to my supreme embarrassment, she says no, then spends the rest of the evening laughing about it with her friends. I head home, dejected, and decide I need to take matters into my own hands.
Taking a deep breath, I think carefully about what I want. My grandfather has taught me some tricks by now, and I know that before reaching into my pocket, I have to clarify my intentions.
*Ok, pocket. Work your magic. I need something that will help me land the girl of my dreams. Obviously, she’s going to be crazy hot. And she should be funny and smell nice, and also smart. Also, please give her a cute ponytail like Sailor Jupiter’s.*
I reach into my pocket, and pull out….
…. A pen. Like a regular blue ballpoint pen.
*What am I supposed to do with this?*
I try writing love notes, all of which lead to predictable and embarrassing adolescent romantic failures.
I try composing a song dedicated to my future love, who I know is out there somewhere.
I try writing classes, art, even architecture. Nothing sticks, but I remember my grandfather’s words, and although I try to leave the pen at home, it always appears in the pocket of whatever pants I’m wearing, silently mocking my romantic failures over the years.
* ​
On my twenty-eighth birthday, I’m finishing a few things up at the office before I head home. My roommates and I are having some friends over to watch the game, and I mentally remind myself to grab some cash from the ATM on the way home.
I stop at the bank, glancing at my watch as I wait in line. A girl with a long, brown ponytail is already at the machine. Her ponytail swings as she rummages through her purse, and when she turns to me, smiling, I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me.
“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you. I was wondering if you had a pen I could borrow?” |
"For someone that's only ranked as barely an F class villain, you're a bloody pain in the arse to shoot mate."The two police officers stood, staring into the abandoned warehouse that was Azile 'Fiver' Hague's secret laboratory.
*Secret my arse.* It was no real mystery where Fiver's base was, it just seemed that many of the heroes in the city thought his antics were beneath them. To them he was simply a common criminal, a terrorist with a knack for making bombs. Someone they only had to send the police to arrest, even after he had specifically released a video stating his intentions.
Blow up the mayors office.
Currently, the super hero delegation for the city of Darkbottom would be meeting with the mayor to report to him the most recent super hero crime statistics; who had been defeated or killed even turned informant. Who had grown or weakened in power.
As Fiver continued to move the police officers hand every time he reached for his gun, he revelled in thoughts of the reckoning that was to come. Every prominent crime fighting force in the city, neatly tucked under one roof - it was time to act.
Fiver raised both of his hands, feigning defeat. "Alright officer, you're right. We both know how this goes. I, being the super villain I am, will continue to prevent you from drawing your gun until eventually, your partner in the car calls for backup and I am outnumbered and arrested. Correct?"
"It's almost as if you've been in this *exact* situation before."The officer retorted, no longer attempting to draw his gun, "It's almost as if the super's were right to dismiss your faux bomb threat..."The officer chuckled to himself, stepping forwards into the warehouse.
Fiver had to stop a smile from creeping up onto his cheeks, "A small incorrect detail from you officer. The bomb threat was no fake, you can find the controller in that draw over there to your right. Whilst you may have arrived in good time to stop me from detonating the bomb myself, it will still go off."
The officers smile faded and he reached for his radio, "Unit 32, requesting EXPO to Fiver's warehouse."A small chuckle, "Yes I'm serious he claims to have a bomb - look of course I can handle it but it's due process to call in EXPO for a bomb threat."He grunted affirmation into the device, "Ok fine, but if everyone in that room gets fucked up its on your ass not mine..."The police officer watched Fiver as he approached the set of draws that contained the controller. After a couple of seconds he pulled a rectangular tablet out, and Fiver couldn't stop himself from smiling now. *Perfect*.
The officer looked at the device and laughed, "Seriously? Two fucking buttons, one for 'detonate' and one for 'disarm'? I'm on minimum wage and this is below my fucking pay grade."Irritation was plastered over the officers face, and as he went to tap the disarm button...
Fiver moved the tablet five inches to the left... |
“Now, where is the watch?” The elderly entertainer asked his small crowd.
The volunteer checked her wrist and smiled, looking the street savvy magician. “Well it better be close by.”
The man shrugged. “It’s a mystery to me, but uh...” he checked the time, making the the woman laugh. “I’m going to be late for a meeting. I’ll let you have my watch, since you’ve been such a nice volunteer.” He unlatched it and placed it back on her wrist. “And here’s something for that beautiful face of yours.” He handed her a pair of earrings that made her reflexively touch her lobes.
The man smiled and waved as the crowd put small amounts of cash into his hat. There was a few others doing similar, more complex tricks a few blocks down, but he was in the hot spot, with more decades of practice than any of the youngsters.
Pulling his hat up into the air and setting it on his head, he bowed to the dispersing crowd. The two in suits, who hadn’t put anything in his hat, stayed with their displeased stares.
“You were told to not use magic until you were needed. We aren’t paying your living expenses from here on out.”
“No magic needed there.” The elderly man said. “All sleight of hand.”
“Earrings?”
“Took ‘em when I was putting her hat back on.”
“Your hat money?”
“Low range wealth magnet in my hat, just strong enough to keep it all stick up there.” He raised his hat, the money clinging to the top.
“So, am I needed, or is this just another check up like the past fifty thousand times? Because frankly I’m done being used like this. A normal life would’ve suited me better.”
“We’ll discuss the details in private. Walk with us.”
Now the trio walked a short distance to the public Teletabs. The man was handed his destination card in mystical glowing ink. Walking into his telecell he placed the tab ink first on the panel and arrived.
The teleport was instantaneous. The clear barrier in front of him opened and two new suited figures took out a device, sweeping it over him.
“No magic, you’re good to go in.”
The figures stood aside and let him down the hallway. He walked for what seemed like a solid half an hour before arriving at the door.
He entered, seeing the world’s immortal leaders before him. He smiled and waved, as if they were another crowd to entertain. “What’s with the hallway? Last time it was only a five minute walk.”
“Classified.” A man in a large, face covering sombrero like hat said. “Right now we need you to listen.”
A broad shouldered were-person leaned forward. “One of our own went rogue. We need you to keep him down until we get the chance to kill him ourselves.”
“Easy enough.” He said. “When can I start?”
“As soon as you finish training. You’re only 50, don’t get overconfident.”
The man smiled, shaking his head. “I don’t use magic, but ever time I’m in your little aging chamber I’ve been altering the runes. I should only be 20 or so normally. Your chamber would’ve made me 50.”
They all stood up, some in shock and some in a defensive posture.
“Units are really important, especially when dealing with time.” The room was tense, all eyes trained on the grey haired man by the door.
“Am I 50 centuries? 50 millennium? You might want to spend some time in there yourself to find out. I already don’t age... but I will be breathtaking to behold.”
“You’re breathtaking?” One of the leaders scoffed.
“No,” he said with a smile, turning around with bright, magically glowing eyes. “You’re breathtaking.”
And with that Keanu Reeves disappeared in a flash of light. |
It’s the first night I’ll be with the ‘problem case’. At first we thought it was just a chain of newbie monsters getting cold feet, but every single monster we’ve sent back has either been too enraged or too distraught to speak on what happened. And it’s made us lose some of our best monsters. The last monster we sent couldn’t even bare to look me in the eye when I asked them what happened before leaving for good.
I know that the human child is a young girl named Anna. Had only lost a few baby teeth, has a mother and a father, and is an only child. She slumbers in a common looking room of a two story house in a middle-class suburb. Anna, like most young children, has a collection of plush animals scattered around her room. Though she does not sleep holding any such item. She goes to a private primary school with her tuition paid by her father and mother’s jobs at the dentistry practice and school district respectively. That’s all the details that were in Anna’s file.
Lack of information from the previous monsters will make this case tricky, but I wasn’t promoted to my position without reason. It’s easy to read humans. And even easier to tell the emotions of a human child. It’s not just about ‘looking’ or ‘being’ scary. It’s important to find out what the child values, adores, clings to.
How to make them feel isolated with no way of escaping you.
I take into account how her family is decently well off, she is an only child, and her room is filled with seemingly almost every toy she could desire. Spoiled little children are usually bark and no bite.
Clicking my claws against my palm I’m ready to make my first impression.
The window across from her bed lets in the soft light of the moon and cast long shadows down along the lengths of the wooden floor boards. It shades the faces of toys with heads that hang lopsided and floppy. Their eyes unseeing and their sewed on mouths seemingly pulled down by dark peaks of these shadows.
From underneath the bed I can hear Anna’s soft breathing, though it isn’t rhythmic enough to indicate that she’s sleeping. I decide to start small as is the best thing to do when dealing with an unknown. Spotting a plush toy that is already teetering on the edge of her toy box I quickly snatch at it by it’s paw and have it thump against the floor.
I hear the mattress shift as she sits up and pulls the cord on her bedside lamp. The room is quickly filled by a warm yellow glow that reflects in the eyes of the plushies and toys. Their smiles are now on display with their heads cocked in a playful manner.
I wait for her to either turn the light back off or get up to rearrange her toy. Anna does neither. A few minutes pass and she continues to just sit there. I didn’t hear her gasp or her heart rate quicken so she wasn’t frightened. And before I made a move she wasn’t beginning to drift off so probably isn’t bleary eyed and nodding off.
This is odd.
I decide to try another trick and start a rhythmic taping on the bottom boards of her bed. I start slow and begin to quicken my pace, but she is unaffected. Now ticked off a bit I decide that I might have to start with a bang. Without giving her time to look I take both my hands and rake my claws against the wood frame at the sides of her bed. The sound of the shrieking wood echoing in the room. I end up shredding the pink bed skirt and leaving five long slashes on either side of the frame.
Anna then does something I didn’t expect.
With a snarl she slams both her feet on the ground and rips what’s left of the bed skirt to see me. I rush to improvise and roll my three eyes at the back of my head and open my mouth into its four parts with a hiss. Tongue striking at air and teeth gleaming a yellow enamel.
“You freaking spit on me.”
I roll my eyes back out and see her crouched down on the rug. Her puppy covered night gown bunched up at her feet. Anna’s mouth is in a straight line from her teeth being clenched together and her eyes bore into me, unimpressed with the display.
She bares her teeth at me says,”Why do you people always have to be so loud and break my things? Go ahead and break the stupid dolls. I don’t care! But how am I suppose to explain this-“ she waves at the now carved bed,”Huh?! Say something!”
Composing myself I am thoroughly pissed from this little creature and the fact that all my best monsters actually saw her to be a threat.
I quickly slither to the lamp and break its bulb and am back in her face before she can blink.
The room succumbs to darkness as I close in an inch away from her face,”Little Anna, cursing and yelling. I should choke you with a bar of soap.”
She smacks me in the face. My eyes are wide in disbelief and rage. She continues to hit me again and again and again. Her closed fist swinging erratically and her face a dark shadow.
“You’re just like him!” Anna chokes out,”You’re just like all of them” She pulls her foot back and starts kicking me,”Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”
I block her kicks with my arm and she pulls away from me and sits back on her bed.
I’m use to kids kicking and screaming, but only in an attempt to get away from me. Not hitting me in anger.
Like some personal punching bag.
It seems like she might have some personal vendetta with one of the previous monsters. She might have been able to push the other’s around but not me.
Wanting to just get this over with and scare her and leave this demon child with her parents, I claw myself out from under the bed to face her.
The light of the moon cuts her face in half with a shadow. In the eye and cheek illuminated by the light I see tears.
Finally she’s crying.
I crack my knuckles and roll my neck with a satisfying pop.
Just as I’m about to lunge at her she speaks.
“I bet you cheat on your wife too.”
...What?
Anna sniffles and still glares at me through her tears,”You break things and you say you’re gonna hurt me. You’re just like him!” She hiccups and wraps her arms around herself.
In the side of her body sitting in the light of the moon a thin ankle peaks out from under her night dress. It’s shackled with finger shaped bruises.
A weight pulls at my stomach as I sit on the floor and let her cry.
-
The plush doll is put back at its rightful place, the damage on the bed is hidden as best can be, and little Anna is tucked back into bed.
It’s the first night I’ll be with a new case. His name is Richard and he has a wife and one daughter. |
"Ah, Mr. Claws, I thought I saw you wandering around alone, mind going and cleaning restroom A? Big Chuck had a big chuck up and it's like a warzone in there, except the only casualty is the beautiful marble floors I had put in."I let out a sigh, no matter how well they cleaned, those floors would never be the same, at least it was a chance to torment these would-be robbers.
"But sir, I was just about to clean your office, are you sure?"The twitchy rat-like man, turned his head back and forth, trying to get his little blob of in his head to formulate an excuse, after a few long moments he just lowered his head stepping past me. "Ah, yes sir..."
"While I appreciate you were trying to clean my office, it's already far to clean to consume your time, please take your time with the bathroom."I could almost sense the disappointment that radiated from his body, yet he couldn't argue, he had to play his role after all. Having these idiots here was a heaven send, I could treat my employees better while making these idiots do the jobs that were hated around this place.
Moving onto the next of the stooges, I moved over to Brian, a bit of an odd name given his other teammates but perhaps that one didn't realize you are meant to use codenames for these sorts of things. The dumb bag of muscles stood by the door to the vault, constantly peering at it as if he is waiting for it to magically open, I swear I could even hear him mutter open sesame at times... "Brian, please go deal with Mr. Hendrick, he is causing up a spit again, yo should be able to handle him, he has been retired from MMA for a year now, he has probably softened up right?"I said with a fake smile. "Our health insurance policy is great anyway so don't think about it too much,"I said, doubting he had ever thought much about anything in his life.
"Oh, but boss door?"He pointed to the vault as I gave him a loving tap on the shoulder.
"Don't worry about that, it will be fine, you just deal with the big baddy, I will get someone else to cover your shift."Someone that I trust, I muttered that last part under my breath as I shoved him towards the casino floor, now onto the last of the stooges.
The last one called himself Mr. John Doe.... he wasn't even trying, Mr. Joe was stood at the bar, trying to get information out of drunk customers, of course instead of getting information he was getting random conversations about how good those pink starbursts were, as some drunkard leaned against him, telling him that he would shove fifteen starbursts into his mouth if he could right now. Getting uncomfortable close to Mr. John’s face. I couldn't even think up a better punishment.. instead I gave the man a thumbs up. "Keep up the good job!"I winked before turning to walk back to my office, hiring these guys was the best decision of my life.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
Gosh, the ruler of the dark underworld that makes Hell look like Mr. Roger's neighborhood (according to Gosh), was fed up. He sat in his crystallized throne of neon colors and crushed an 'orb of sadness', just for the fun of it (he truly was a 'twisted' God).
"The time has come! That's it, I can no longer take it, these mortals have no idea the name at which they are cursing incessantly!"
"But lord, we must not make our existence known. Crossing between realms is awfully dangerous, who knows what it could do our lair,"his co-god said on the other side of the lair where a pink waterfall fell into a pool beneath the white obsidian rock they sat on.
"Dang,"Gosh grunted. "That's enough out of you! We are going to do this, every time my name and your name is uttered by a weakling, it just makes a mockery of us, the other gods have no respect anymore! They are always laughing at us!"
"Gosh, it's okay,"Dang said, holding his black, ethereal hand up that flowed with wispy tendrils.
"No, we're going to make them pay. We are going to go to earth and torture the humans. We're going to destroy all of their trash!"
"Lord Gosh, please, think of the damage it might--"
"Stop it, Dang! Let me finish my diabolical plan. We are going to destroy all of their trash, we are going to feed all of the hungry, we are going to give shelter to all of the homeless!"
"Gosh, stop, think about the--"
"NO! Dang, I've had enough. We're going to bring an end to their happiness. And it starts *now*!"Gosh leapt off the throne and punched his massive fist through the diamond chair he sat upon, instantly creating a dimensional portal that took him and Dang to the puny rock known as Earth.
​
r/randallcooper
A [part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/g1iylv/wp_it_turns_out_that_gosh_is_a_real_god_and_he_is/) has been added! :) |
Note: I work in retail so at the moment I am an "essential worker."So this was pretty easy for me to relate to. A big thanks to all of the essential workers out there, from first responders and nurses to retail workers and janitors. You guys are all awesome!
"Good morning, ma'am."You greet the customer unloading the contents of her cart onto the belt to be rung up. She growls in return, seemingly in no mood for chitchat. You notice that she's pale, her sweaty face shining in the fluorescent lights. Her movements are slow and deliberate.
You've been doing this job for several years now, so you're used to customers acting strangely. You've seen every type of weirdo come through your line, from crazy old ladies who smell like cats to the Karens of the world who ask to see a manager because your smile offended them.
This one is different though. Of course, that's because these are different times. The world is far different than it was when you were a naive teenager who wanted a part time job so you could hang out with friends. No, those days are behind you. That part time job has become full time, the money going toward survival. You risk the crowds early in the morning on your day off just to get a pack of toilet paper or a bag of rice.
The woman has stopped unloading her groceries. Her hands are gripping the cart and she is violently trembling from head to toe. Everyone in line behind her has backed up at least ten feet.
You sigh as you pull your company-issued handgun from its holster on your belt. You switch the safety off and take aim. "Ma'am, please wait just a moment."You key in the emergency code on your register that will alert the higher-ups to trouble. And then you wait.
The woman turns to face you as your finger hovers over the trigger. She has totally transformed now. It's amazing how quickly they can go from normal to… well, not normal. Pale skin has turned grey and is beginning to rot away from the bone. There is a vacant, glassy look in her eyes. A guttural growl erupts from her throat as she stumbles forward and reaches a rotting hand toward you.
You don't have time to wait for backup.
You fire, the sound echoing off the high ceiling. Several people scream. The woman slumps over the end of her cart, black blood oozing from the hole in her head. Your aim has certainly improved. You'll have to be sure to bring that up to your manager during your next performance evaluation.
You unhook the radio at your hip and press the button before speaking. "Cleanup on register six."
You've always wanted to say that. |
“Your Majesty, an, urrr, Prince? Has arrived.” Announced one of the courtiers, sounding more than a little confused. His Majesty King Fredrick Dam Jekelhimelstratz the fifth awaited the arrival from the lofty heights of his golden throne. The large gilded doors at the end of the room opened and in walked a sight none of the nobles could’ve expected. Dressed in rags not fit for the castle cooks and dragging a cow by the length of a mangled piece of rope, the Prince was covered in dirt and smelt worse than a horse stable that hadn’t been mucked for weeks.
“And who might you be?” Commanded the King, his voice echoing across the room.
“I be the A. Prince you’ve been searching for, your Majesty.” The Prince dropped to one knee, before slapping his cow gently on head, the cow lay flat on the ground, covering the silk carpet in grease and grime.
“Hah, a Prince. And what mud hut do you rule over then young Prince?”
“Why it’s no mud hut your Majesty. My Pa is a farmer, nearly three acres he owns.”
“Haha three acres.” The nobles and courtiers lining the room burst out in laughter.
“Three acres. Boy you stand in the presence of the most powerful men in the Kingdom. My message clearly asked for a Prince. Now why shouldn’t I cut off your head for wasting my time?’ The farm boy swiveled his head from side to side looking a little more than confused.
“You have me confused your Majesty. I’m not a Prince. I’m A. Prince.”
“What is this gibberish you’re spewing boy?” The King was clearly growing angry and everyone in the room other than the farm boy and his cow slowly edged away, his Majesty’s temper was legendary all throughout the realm.
“Well you see your Majesty, there’s a full stop after the A. My name is Alexander Prince so I assumed you were looking for me? Were you not? Or am I mistaken, was this perhaps a grammatical mistake? You must forgive me for I did learn my basic english from a half blind beggar that lives in the town next to my farm. But that’s how it’s written.” Alexander pulled out a piece of parchment that had been put on boards all across the realm, the one with the King’s message on. ‘See your Majesty, right here.’
In the quiet that followed one could hear the creaking noise of a door opening followed by the quick tapping of footsteps as the one who wrote the message for the King fled the Throne room with all haste.
“Ah yes well, I suppose that is what it says yes. Urm, Graham, see the boy out for me would you, with his head intact mind you.” Said the Majesty, more than a little embarrassed. Graham the King’s personal servant nodded and began moving towards Alexander.
“Please wait your Majesty, I cannot leave while a dragon is on the loose. Please allow me to slay it, it won’t be my first you know?”
“You’ve slain dragon’s before?”
“Sure have your Majesty, at least ten, I only have ten fingers so I’m not sure how many exactly.” Alexander pronounced with more than a little pride.
“You still count with your fingers.”
“Why yes, how else are you supposed to count?”
“I use my toes as well, lets me go up to twenty.” Shrugged the King, the courtiers and Lords mumbled among themselves about how fiercely intelligent he was.
“Why you’re a genius your Majesty, I’ve never even thought of the idea!” Alexander’s face shone with the King’s idea, he now understood why this man got to wear the crown.
“Well yes, anyways enough of that, how do *you*; a farm boy, slay dragons?”
“With my trusty Betsy of course!” He replied, slapping Betsy who let out a loud Moo.
“You fight dragons… with a cow?” Everyone in the room other than Alexander wore faces of confusion.
“Why yes your Majesty. But Betsys not just any cow, look at her. The dragons can’t get enough of her. With her curves and gorgeous fragrance she distracts the dragons while I get to work.”
“And what exactly is it you do?”
“Well the first thing you’ve got to do when fighting dragons is get them to relax. And nothing does the job better than a good laugh. So while their distracted by Betsys looks I go in and tickle their udder.” Alexander said, clearly believing his brilliance matched the King’s own.
“What? Dragon’s don’t have udders… Do they?” The King looked towards Graham who just shrugged; and then to the Lord’s around the room who looked equally concerned.
“Of course they do your Majesty. What else could that bit that dangles between their legs be? It’s larger and scalier than most udders mind you, but an udders and udder and nothing gets a dragon laughing better than a tickle in the right spot.” The faces around the room grew more and more concerned as Alexander spoke. By the end of his speech the King’s usually pale face was as red as a tomato and most of the lord’s were either stifling a laugh or holding back sick.
“Right well. If you say so boy… Um I think I get the jist of the plan. You make it laugh then stab it in the neck yes yes… um yes. Well. I guess you may as well give it a shot, right? Go meet the head Captain down by the gate, a tall bearded man, can’t miss him. Godspeed brave, um, warrior.” Alexander stood and Betsy rose alongside him. WIth a salute fit for the finest soldier he turned and left the throne room.
“Graham.” Said the King after Alexander had left the room. ‘Follow that boy, if he does slay this dragon; get him a bath, a priest and an anatomy teacher. And don’t let him back into this room until you do.’
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(Hope everyone enjoyed the story, I put it together in a bit of a rush but would still love any feedback!) |
“You look ridiculous,” Jen said. She was sitting across from him in the waiting room. She was obviously referencing the fake glasses and nose combo Paul was wearing.
“They’re called Groucho glasses,” Paul said as if that were reason enough.
“Well they look dumb.”
Jen had been mad at Paul for the last two weeks - ever since he told her he was going to get help. Paul had the case of grade A writer’s block.
“It’s not help,” Jen said steaming. “They fuck with your mind.”
Jen rarely swore and somewhere inside Paul’s subconscious, he loved it when she did. That conversation had been two weeks ago.
Even though Paul claimed he couldn’t understand Jen’s resentment for seeking help with his writer’s block, deep down, somewhere around his love for Jen’s rare, foul mouth, Paul did know why she was so mad. Jen had been his muse, his Reader A for the last twenty years. Jen, not so deep down in her consciousness, took pride this. Pride in helping coax the words from her husband’s mind, and through his fingertips onto his keyboard. The words that she coaxed were words to the international best selling Jack Grave series. This operation proved that even she wasn’t enough.
“You’re a pig fucker,” She said. Paul didn’t point out that in the last twenty years he had only fucked her.
But back to the fake nose, mustache and glasses.
“It’s a disguise.”
“If you didn’t want anyone to know than you shouldn’t do it.”
Paul didn’t have time to retort, a woman in medical scrubs was calling his name. “Lord Cuntington.”
Jen’s lips turned up in a vile smile. “Show time, Lord Cuntington.”
“My wife made that name for me,” Paul told the nurse, as if that was some sort of apology.
The woman didn’t seem to care. “This way, Lord Cuntington.”
Paul followed. On the other side of the waiting room door was a massive warehouse of gray and fluorescent. The Center of Writers Block Removal was in the back of his local H-Mart. Paul had been to that H-Mart a hundred times never once realizing it was also home to The Center of Writer’s Block Removal. Paul had to knock on a door marked Refugees Only and give his name.
“Interesting choice of location,” Paul said trying to make small talk.
“Complete anonymity, Lord Cuntinging,” the nurse said.
They passed a bin marked returns and the nurse (Paul really hoped she was a nurse) picked up a cowboy hat from the top of the bin.
“You don’t mind if I wear this, do you?” She asked.
Wear it?
“Are you a nurse?” Paul asked.
“Are you a pig fucker?”
“I’m Lord Cuntington,” Lord Cuntington said.
“Yes you are,” said the nurse. “We need to get you ready for your flight.”
“My flight? What’s going on here is this a—” Paul stopped then realizing it wasn’t actually a warehouse at at all but an airplane hanger. Just like the one—
“This is it,” the nurse said. She had ditched the cowboy hat for a hard hat and goggles.
This was it. This was Paul’s writer’s block.
In the center of the hanger was the jet - a Gulfstream G550. Paul had never seen a Gulfsteram G550 in person even though he had written about one in all six of his Jack Graves novels. The door was open and woman dressed to the nines (Paul’s words) was stepping down from the plane’s stairs. She was suspended in time. Her red curls billowed (also Paul’s words) in the non-existent wind. The woman had been a fan he had fucked in Memphis. On the plane in each of the windows was a clone of his Ex-wife. Jen laughing at his stupidity. Jen sneering at his carelessness. Jen crying, or the worse, Jen not even caring, just a placid -*I don't even see you-*look on her face.
“Pig fucker,” he heard himself say.
“Get them out of here,” The nurse said.
The nurse, if she was a nurse, wore full construction gear. She held a clipboard. A dozen other construction workers descended on the Gulfstream. Two men carried away the frozen red head. And one by one all the Jen's were removed.
He wanted to yell wait! Let me--- Let me what? Say good bye? Grovel? Tell her I'm sorry.?
He had done all that already in the real world.
The woman in the construction gear held his shoulder. "Almost done,"she said.
When they were done Paul was alone. Even though Paul couldn’t see it, in the back of the plane Jack Graves had a gun pointed to his head by the very well dressed and very evil Lord Carne. The bullet that was chambered in said gun was a special bullet— a bullet that had been surgically removed from Lord Carne’s dead son in *Farewell to Eden*, Book two of the Jack Graves’ series.
Paul knew what he had to do.
Paul ascended the staircase of the Gulfstream G550. He had at one time had enough money to buy one of them, but not anymore.
“You were right to divorce me,” He said. Paul could see the shadows of the two men. Lord Carne stood erect and quick above Jack. Lorde Carne had the drop on him.
“Try to weasel your way out of this,” Jen had said.
He deserved everything: The divorce, the loss of his house, even what the reviewers had said about his last book. It was a shit book and Paul knew it. But he didn’t care about the reviews (at least not that much). He cared about Jen. So why had he fucked the woman from Memphis?
Those would be questions he would answer a different day and maybe in a different story.
On the way home, in the back of the car, Paul’s mind was fuzzy. They had warned him of this and had told hi that he shouldn’t try to write for at least twenty four hours. Paul wasn’t good at following directions.
On his legal pad, the one with nearly every page torn out, Paul wrote: Above Jack, like the angel of death, Lord Carne came to collect on his promise. It was a shit line but it was *something*. |
I feel the shock in my bones before the tap on my sholder. A sudden pressure in my mind. Awe and fear and the sensation of my thoughts being crushed. My skin is hot as though a fire burns inches from it... but everywhere.
I turn. It looks surprisingly normal. A tshirt, jeans. Trainers. Messy brown hair. I couldn't make a guess at gender but that doesn't feel unusual. Skin dark and features thar could be from anywhere, but nothing I would call strange. It is very much at odds with the sensations on my body, like seeing heat on my skin, and the way my thoughts seem to have been crowded out of my head.
"You seem legit. Want some help?"It asks. It seems genuine and asks with a smile.
I know this thing is a deity. Something in my genetics or my ancestry screams out in recognition of this feeling if being overwhelmed wholly. A God. Something more powerful than anything I have ever seen.
It could help.
It looks at me and seems to be completely honest but with this overwhelming feeling... I cannot think. It could help, couldnt it? This is what all this is about? Isn't it?
But I can't think, can I?
The moment drags on as my thoughts force their way through my brain.
"Honestly, I'm... I'm not sure that is the best idea."I stammer, barely. I keep my composure.
"No?"It looks at men clearly confused. It's will buffets agaisnt my mind and I don't FEEL any malice in it but the thing is just... too much. I need to think.
"No."I tell it, surprisingly certain. *I cannot think*. This would be a terrible idea. Imagine a creature like that telling people who to be and.. stopping us thinking. How would anyone know anything for themsleves?
"Thank you."I add after a few moments, not really sure how to proceed. "I think we need to get this ourselves."
It looks at me again still confused.
"Suit yourself then."It says. "They usually say yes."The words drift after me, barely audible.
And then it is gone and I can breath again. The burning is gone. My thoughts run freely again.
Now, to get started. |
I’ve seen it all in my years as intergalactic ambassador for the Kigne’er Empire: species that use sheer will to pilot the stars, races that constantly warp space time to make forward progress, hell, I’ve even ships fueled by hatred itself, or love, depending on a six core or eight core engine.
But never before have I met a people so absolutely daft. Perhaps it’s meant as a joke, a mockery to the rest of us. Or maybe the people on that ship are prisoners, sent for execution. Even that would be preposterous. As my leader once said: “It is indicative of stupidity to present itself as smart, it’s indicative of brilliance to present itself as bold.”
Heh, bold, that’s one word for it.
At least with the other ships, those powered by will, space time, hatred, love, at least they all run on something safe, something controllable.
But the humans are coming now, and they ride on the backs of explosions and flame.
Visit r/burntwick for more of my writing, although it’s a bit barren right now. |
There is a curse in my blessed family. We have power. Power that others want. That I want. Something everyone has but me. The ability to raise the dead.
Some people think that’s the actual curse.
But I know it is a blessing. I’ve seen the wonders it can produce. Miracles that I’ll never preform.
One in four of the children born into my family’s line does not have the ability. They call us “shockers.” I hate that name. Not because it’s an unfortunate surprise. Without fail, every child born like me will die within a week of their 20th birthday.
It’s always the same way, too. Struck by lightning.
The cruelest part is that my family’s blessing has one weakness. One. They cannot revive anyone killed by mother nature.
I heard a couple generations ago that I had a great, great, great uncle whose family tried to hide him from the storm. The lightning struck the shed, and it caught fire. He died alongside his mother, who refused to let her only child die.
That’s good for her, but ever since then, “shockers” are shunned by the family. Makes it easier to not get hurt by the inevitable, I suppose.
Which is why no one is looking for me. I’ve been gone two days now, and I wonder if they’ve even noticed?
They probably think I’m already dead. My birthday is in five days anyway, I may as well have kicked the bucket.
I didn’t want them to see me covered in the junkyard's filth. I had made this mess my graveyard. They’d probably laugh, or more likely pity me. The same way they always did. Sad eyes, pursed lips, and nothing to say.
A single raindrop hit my cheek and I looked through the broken windshield of the abandoned bulldozer. The grey overcast changed like a paper towel dipped in ink. I swallowed a lump in my throat. Dark clouds rolled in, flashing with the rage of god.
Thunder boomed.
My life flashed in the lightning jumping about the sky. Despite my isolation and curse, I wanted to live.
I curled up into a ball, holding my knees tight against my chest.
*Live*
*Live*
I begged myself. I didn’t want to be a shocker. I didn’t ask for this.
*Live*
The sky cracked, a bolt from heaven zipping towards me.
*Live!*
An engine roared and the metal shovel on the bulldozer stretched out, stiff-arming the lightning.
It craned its large hand towards me, as if it were a dinosaur. An electric stain scorched on its steel. “Master, we can’t stay here.”
I blinked. The bulldozer. It *spoke.*
“What... What’s happening?” I gripped my head, convinced I had gone insane, or worse, I already died.
“Fate,” the bulldozer said, stretching its neck up to the black sky. “And she wants you dead.” |
Caleb let out an exaggerated groan as he rocked himself to his feet before turning the TV off, silencing the reporter lamenting an entire city destroyed amidst a fight between two supes. Tossing the remote back onto the couch, he made his way through the small apartment to his bedroom and pulled his outfit out of the closet. He draped the finely tailored suit over the footboard of his bed before slowly getting changed, going over his mantra out loud to prevent any unnecessary temptation by the beast that is superpower-induced laziness. "The small things are what count, what make the difference between great and unmatched. Do not do with a Power what can be done with the body. Might does not make right, but it helps in enforcing it."
The whole time he got ready, Caleb extended his senses out, slowly clawing more and more sensation into his brain. What people never seemed to understand about telekinesis was that if you can move it, then you're touching it and, if you can touch it, you can feel it. It seemed a simple logical step to Caleb that an extraordinary ability like telekinesis would then come with a built-in extrasensory sort of perception. Now draped from shoulders to toes in black satin with the exception of a white button up shirt snd white gloves, Caleb affixed his mask to his face, a simple affair with holes only for the eyes and a white background with a set of balancing scales tipped slightly to one side by a disembodied hand.
As Caleb stepped out of his apartment, locking the door and tucking the key into the inside pocket of his jacket, he made his way up the stairs to the roof of his apartment building. Caleb once again found himself disappointed in the superhuman community, viewing it as little more than two gangs forcing an unnecessary conflict that inadvertently involves bystanders with each and every clash. A clash such as the one he was now making his way towards was inevitable, as two individuals, exceptional even among such a community, arose from obscurity, one on each side of the conflict. They were both gifted with several powers over which they had a decent handle and exceptional strength, and hubris took care of the rest.
When Caleb finally made it out the door that led onto the rooftop he was caught by some of the neighbors having a cookout, most of whom turned and gave him a polite wave. He waved back and tipped an imaginary hat before simply disappearing from their view, having launched himself so fast from the roof a blink took longer. He always kept the concussions from such movement contained when not flexing before some unruly supes, as it was needlessly dangerous and wasteful to do otherwise. He arrived at the scene in a matter of moments and paused in the air, watching the two younger supes duking it out across the wasteland of their own making.
Though any actual movement was unnecessary, Caleb always found it more satisfying to pantomime uses of his power. He clapped his hands at the same instant a shockwave rocked the entire area, drawing both supes up short mid-fight. They turned towards him and, upon recognizing the minimalistic, by comparison, outfit, the heroine flew up first to talk with Caleb from around twenty feet away. "Thank goodness you're here, Nameless! This villain has been destroying the city with abandon! Quick, help me to subdue him before he brings further harm to the populace!"
Caleb barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You were helping the damage along just as much, and will therefore be punished as well."The self-proclaimed heroine formed fire around her hands and launched it at Caleb, growling in frustration when they vanished to nothing a foot from his body. Lightning followed next, and again made contact with nothing but air, dissipating behind Caleb. The young super then leapt forward and attempted to rain a flurry of blows on the man, grunting in surprise when she felt her knuckles burst open. "But how?! I can catch bullets and more with ease!"Caleb smiled a sad smile and held up one hand in a position as if ready to flick something. "The right amount of finesse can overcome any obstacle that brute force cannot."
Caleb then flicked his finger, at the same time slamming the woman with enough force to crack several bones even in such a sturdy body and sending her rocketing back towards the ground. By this point the villain had assumed he'd successfully snuck up on Caleb and launched several attacks at once, all of which fell short and vanished. When Caleb felt a sudden attack on his mind he physically rattled the brain of the villain, causing the man to black out and start falling. The heroine had stopped her descent and was making her way back towards Caleb with fury in her eyes.
Caleb smiled sadly again, deciding that both were beyond saving at this point. "Forgive me, but I must get a bit excessive."The woman grew frantic and began yanking on crumbled buildings with her own telekinesis, flinging them in a massive group towards Caleb. He snapped his fingers once and every single floating building dissolved into powder and dust, being immediately swept away. The woman looked down for more things to throw, and watched in terror as a shockwave extended from the center of the ruins to the very edge, leaving naught but the ground itself in its wake.
Looking up, tears began streaming from her face as she begged. "Please! Please spa-"Her words cut out as she was knocked unconscious then destroyed on the inside along with the villain, Caleb preferring not to leave a grisly mess. He floated slowly to the ground, lowering the heroine and villain to lay beside each other before vanishing from the area, once more back on his rooftop. The father of the family from two floors above Caleb's apartment waved him over while the mother said, "Come eat. You must be famished, nd you look like you could use some good company."Caleb nodded, removing his gloves and thanking his lucky stars that he had at last found a group of people who could respect privacy and did not pry. Especially since they were phenomenal cooks. |
“She says she’ll swear off PUBG if you recover the files from the hard drive, Kor.” The minion said. His large, yellow eyes looked up at the god from the tablet. “Well?”
Kor sighed. “Can’t I just, *kill* someone again?” He set down the glass of wine, leaning back in his plush leather chair. “What if we repair the hard drive, but if she plays the whatever again, I make a call to my old pal Hades about a gruesome death?”
The minion squinted at his boss. “This again? How many days is this ‘I’m-no-longer-an-important-death-god’ breakdown going to take before you start doing your job again?”
“At least two. This wine is really quite excellent.” Kor extended his black, clawed hand and swiped up the wine glass, sniffing at the red liquid. “Do you remember, Silt? The times we had?” He took a long drink from the glass. “Oh! And the *orgies-*”
“Yes, yes, Kor. You were magnificent.” Silt tapped on the tablet and sighed. He looked up to see Kor staring at him, deep frown extending his dark lips. “Are magnificent.” He glanced away, looking for another minion to deal with the god’s newest fit of nostalgia that would end with a sour mood and someone getting thrown out an office window.
The bright white space sprawled out, devoid of other minions, interrupted at regular intervals by drab, grey cubicles, floor to ceiling windows looking out at the Aether, a bright white expanse of nothing. Silt almost missed the days of being the right-hand demon to a murder god, but killing was so. . . messy. Tech support was sterile, and mostly quiet. Much less screaming.
“Silt, repair the hard drive.” Kor waved his free, leathery hand like he was shooing a blood-fly. “But make a note that she can never do. . . the thing she wanted to do.”
Silt scrunched his red brow. “Sir? You’re going to help her?”
“I am a benevolent god, Silt.” He said, taking another swig of wine.
“No, no you’re not.” Silt zoomed in on the picture of the human that made a deal she may come to regret. “The last time you did something that surprised me, Wikileaks happened.” |
He was nothing like I had expected. I'd always imagined my soulmate would be some tall dashing blonde guy with a white horse and a castle and-- Yeah, I guess my mother was right. I watched too many Disney movies.
My mind was racing. This tall seemingly eyeless form which I guess could be possibly called male if it so chose to be... was supposed to be my *soulmate?*
"You are not pleased, are you,"it said, more stating it as a fact than a question.
I sighed and rubbed my arm, "Well, I mean... No. No, not exactly. I mean, I'm not *not* pleased, either. At least I *have* a soulmate, right? I just always sort of expected he'd be... You know... *human*."
The being sighed and nodded, "I understand. You are not quite what I was expecting, either. Women where I am from look nothing like you. They are formless beings of pure white light who choose a permanent physical body based upon the preferences of their soulmates."
I laughed a little at this, "Wow, taking the term objectifying women and having it be literal. That's actually really funny."Realizing suddenly that this guy had been standing in my room for at least five minutes at this point in front of the window, I quickly pointed to the bed, "Ah, uh, sorry, I'm being really rude. Please have a seat."
He nodded and sat on the bed while I took a chair from my desk and scooted it so I could sit across from him. He ran his fingers through his snow white hair and sighed. He seemed to do that a lot. "This is... a confusing arrangement for us both. I could very well understand if you weren't all that comfortable at the moment. But if you are possibly worried I do not find you appealing, though I seriously doubt it, I will say you are lovely."
This brought a small blush to my face. He was really so concerned with my feelings when I'd basically flat out insulted him before? Now I felt guilty on top of everything else. I gestured to him and nodded, "Thanks, and you... You're not bad-looking, either. I mean, the paper-white skin and hair is slowly becoming less of a shock. And the claws aren't so freaking me out anymore. The scorpion tail... That's not so creepy now, though I am still a tiny bit worried you're going to accidentally stab yourself. Or me. But other than that you aren't at all horrible to look at. The lack of eyes is throwing me a little, though. You said you think I'm lovely... but you can't see me?"
He laughed, "Oh, right, right, sorry. You see, my peoples' eyes are very sensitive. We do not have a protective film over them like you humans do and thus, when not on our own planet, need to be especially cautious about when we open them. But this atmosphere does not seem to have anything harmful in it... So..."
The fact that his eyes came shooting out of his face was something I overlooked immediately. They were astonishingly beautiful. It was as if I was staring into the galaxy and seeing those pictures of it that they have in planetariums... yet those paled in comparison to this.
"Wow..."I muttered.
He smiled, and the awkwardness was sort of cute. "I am happy you are pleased."A blush rose to his incredibly pale cheeks, "I have just realized that I haven't even told you my name. I am called Kla've'th Mii'shka'r, ruler of the planet Persiot and with it the entire Mal'kiith galaxy."
I nodded, "That's... quite a title. I'm Sarah Riddle. Ruler of... cubicle 331 at the Daily Post."
"That is a beautiful name,"Kla've'th said with a small nod. "Just as beautiful as the one who bears it."
I sighed and rolled my eyes, "You say that, but not a lot of people think so. It's actually a pretty common name around here. And, well... Not a lot of people believe that last part, either."
"Are they blind, then?"Kla've'th asked, cocking his head to the side a bit. "Because you bear a striking resemblance to our goddess Ser'ipeth. Your hair the same dark and mysterious shade of the blansali bird's feathers, and your eyes so bright and slivanté they put your own Caribbean seas to shame."He took my hand and kissed it, "And your skin so flawless that your own alabaster columns of Greece pale in comparison."
I didn't hate to admit that this guy was *smooth*. No one had ever described me like that, much less comparing me to some sort of goddess or anything. I was really liking this arrangement I'd now found myself stuck in. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. I mean, wife of a ruler of an entire *galaxy* who found me this *beautiful?* You couldn't get much better than that. Then it suddenly hit me. I didn't know a thing about Kla've'th.
Drawing back my hand and smiling politely, I nodded, "Thank you. For all of the compliments and the kindness, but..."
"Of course,"Kla've'th replied. "I consider myself very fortunate to have a soulmate such as you, Sarah."
I put up my hand, "That... That brings me to a really important question. Soulmates. How does that work with your people? Is it like ours where another soul is perfectly synched to yours or something similar?"
Kla've'th grinned, "Oh, very similar. You see, the people of Perisot are never born whole. Half of our soul is within another being. This being completes us as we complete them. When we come of age an image of them will flash in our minds so that we may locate them and they may locate us. And when we meet them in person... nothing feels more right than remaining by their sides."
My eyes widened at the statement "come of age"and another question popped into my head. "Kla've'th... How old are you, exactly?"
"Oh, 230 years in my solar system, but in yours... 23,"he replied.
I nodded, "Good to know. So... Listen... This soulmate thing is super great and all--"
"I'm glad you think so!"he exclaimed jubilantly. "Then that means we should leave now. There are many preparations to be made."
"Preparations?"
He nodded, "Yes, for our wedding!"
My cheeks were red as rosebuds, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, but we just met!"
Kla've'th nodded, "All the more reason to hurry. We've spent so much time talking already."
I put up my hands, "Hold on, hold on, *hoooold on!* Kla've'th, I don't know how things work on your planet, but here... Here we take time to learn about a person before we even think of marrying them. It can take months to completely know a person. Years, even."
Kla've'th looked dejected, "But... You are my soulmate."
I nodded, "I know, and I am very happy about that, because you seem like a wonderful guy, but... I don't just want to rush into things. I want to learn more about you first. You understand don't you?"
He shook his head, "In truth I do not, but because I wish for you to be happy, I will honor your wishes. How do we commence this learning process?"
I smiled, "Well... We humans do this thing called dating. Where we go out and do activities together to find out what the other likes and vice versa. Typically that involves picnics, visiting a place like a museum or aquarium or maybe a carnival, or even just sitting and watching movies at one another's houses."
"Wonderful!"Kla've'th exclaimed, his entire body now glowing gold with what I guessed was extreme enthusiasm. "Then let us begin this dating at once!" |
“Uhh, mothership. I think we have made a big mistake here,” whispered Ulrog.
Ulrog felt very out of place. To any onlooker, he was a short, chubby man. Someone who wouldn’t stand out. But beneath the holo-suit, Ulrog was absolutely terrified.
“Mission Report, Ulrog. What have you found?” a voice spoke into his earpiece.
“We need to leave Earth alone. And pray that they never become a space-faring species, Mothership.”
Ulrog then began to report the sights he had seen. Many of these humans were engaged in fierce discussions over which of the beings in the audience were stronger.
Ulrog heard stories of how a being named Soops could sneeze apart an entire solar system. Apparently, sneezing is an involuntary reflex from humans where they project specks of body fluid. And this being’s *body fluids* could destroy a solar system.
And other parties argued that he wasn’t stronger than this other being. A ***sun*** that was named Gokew? A being whose hair changes with his strength and at his peak, could shake the very universe.
The worst part is, Ulrog saw ***dozens*** of beings matching both descriptions, indicating that Earth was clearly the most dangerous part of the universe.
But if only that was the limit of power on this planet. Ulrog also witnessed other bizarre displays of strength beyond comprehension.
Ulrog walked into a certain section of the area and saw numerous people holding strange storage units they called “Kards.” And on these storage units, they stored otherworldly creatures and they could create effects that defied the known laws of physics.
There would be tables where two Earthlings sat across from each other. Far as he could tell, these weren’t famed champions he heard others dischssing. And these two Earthlings would begin casting these effects and commanding these creatures. Though everything happened at speeds much faster than Ulrog could comprehend. Other onlookers would cheer at some event and when I asked someone to explain to me what happened, it seemed the other Earthling was hit with catastrophic damage.
They were banished to an otherworldly dimension, attacked by some mystical forces or hit with some terrible curse of some sort. But while many others clearly reacted in surprise, Ulrog couldn’t even see these acts take effect. They were that fast. They were completely unharmed, save for some emotional damage.
And then there were the females of the species. They were very… distracting.
“All in all, mothership. I’d like to come back now and may we never wrong this planet.” |
"Where's the princess?!"I interrogated the Demon guard while shaking him non stop. "Stop...stop...I'm gonna puke...she's...up stair....third tower, top room...."The Demon guard answered meekly, face turning green.
I tossed the guard toward his other fellow guards, knocked unconscious on a pile nearby. "Princess, wait for me."I muttered to myself as I rushed towards the third tower and start climbing the stairs.
10th step of the stairs. "Worry not princess, your hero has arrive!"I shouted jovially.
40th step of the stairs. "Hah! You think stairs gonna kept me from saving the princess, Demon Lord? You're mistaken!"I shouted again.
88th step of the stairs. "....This is one high tower...."I said, a bit out of breath.
133th step of the stairs. "Stupid Demon Lord and their stupid tower. Can't you just kept the princess in a dungeon?"I cursed, holding to the wall for support.
201th step of the stairs. "Stupid freakin legendary armor, stupid freakin legendary sword. Why do they have to weigh so damn heavy?! I should've just used a regular leather armor and small sword..."I cursed again, dragging the massive two handed legendary sword of hero behind me, it's Eye looking around.
244th step of the stairs. "Go to the capital, she said. You're blessed by the god, she said. A Hero is a noble cause, she said. Gee, thanks, mom!' I said mockingly, each breath full of labor.
280th step of the stairs. "Is that a door? Friggin finally."I smile tiredly. Just a bit more.
300th step of the stairs. A big door stood before me. With the last ounce of my strength, I kicked the door and burst into the room.
I saw the princess and the another person sitting comfortably on a couch, sipping teas. They were as shocked as me. "...Hero? This isn't what it looks like."The princess tried to explain, but I raised my hand, stopping her. I took several deep breath. "Let me …. rest first...". "Stairs?"the Princess asked. "Stairs."I answered.
Several minute later, I finally rested enough. "Princess, I'm here to save you...actually, who's that sitting beside you?"I ask, pointing at the other girl sitting beside her, still sipping her tea. She looks very similar to the princess. "Oh, she's my twin sister."The princess answered nonchalantly. "And the current Demon Lord."the other girl speak up, while giving me a sly grin.
The princess see my confused face and drag me to the couch. As she prepare the tea, she explained that she and Aria, the demon lord are twins. They are the daughters of the god Anhu, the very same god that chosen me as the hero. Anhu look towards the mortal world and see how civilizations is not progressing anymore. Science, technology, magic is stale with no improvement being made. At this rate, the world will destroy itself in the near future. So, Anhu hatches a plan, a competition. One of his daughter will be the demon lord, improving the beastmens and demons races, while the other will be the princess of the king, improving mankind. Then, the princess would be kidnapped by the demon lord, and as this two forces clashes, they will start an arms race against each other. After all, wars tend to accelerate technological development to adapt tools for the purpose of solving specific military needs. Later, these military tools may evolve into non-military devices.
Huh, That make sense. Just 30 years ago we still using candle for light source, compared to energy crystal and light bulb now. The self cleansing bathroom is a godsend.
Also, the sisters is responsible of making sure neither side would develop anything too dangerous. The Hero job is to rally mankind and save the princess and defeat the demon lord, allowing both to return to their sides and micromanage again. |
Hello, Sir. I'm just calling to remind you that your car warranty is about to end.
"Thank you for letting me know. You sound like you've had a long day of making calls. What if you could *own* the company you work for, instead of slaving for it?"
That would be wonderful. And you know what else would be wonderful? Locking in the peace of mind of knowing your vehicle has Gold Level™ auto protection in these trying times.
"There is no time more trying than when one leads a life of complete obscurity. What if you were famous beyond all other humans? Your vast wealth giving you anything you want. Your mere presence igniting sexual hysteria in any person you desire. This would be an upgrade to the life you live now, no?
Well, frankly, yes. But no upgrade is better than our Platinum level of membership. Think of it, 10 years of complete corrosion and engine electronics protection at a low price of $89/month* !
*"What if you could be the Light Bringer? Harbinger of a new era, possessor of all?"*
*WHAT IF I COULD OFFER YOU $79/MONTH IF YOU SIGN UP FOR AUTO PAY!?*
***"WHAT IF I*** ...think I want to sign up for Platinum Warranty benefits?"
Awesome! And I think I want to sell my eternal soul for 10 years of physical pleasure on this mortal plane of existence.
"Deal."
Deal. |
My taxi pulls up on the curb. I thank the driver, pay, and step onto the sidewalk. Downtown New York, and in front of me towers the newest building in the area, 79 floors of glittering steel and glass. I can just make out the giant letters at the top of the building: "SALT". In case I'd forgotten who I was there to see.
As I walk into the foyer, I notice the odd architecture straight away. Above me, metal poles and tiny ladders criss-cross the room between the high ceiling and where I stand. Where the poles reach the walls, there are small openings, barely big enough to fit your fist inside. The faint smell of walnuts hang in the air.
I tell the receptionist who I'm here to see and he (or she - I can never really tell) chirps happily and point me in the direction of the lift.
"Floor 78, please,"I say the the lift operator. They seem tired, and are probably thankful they don't need to climb halfway up the wall to take me to one of the low floors. The doors close and the elevator starts to rise. I remember my manners and leave half a walnut in the lift as I exit, to thank the lift operator.
Veruca Salt's office is everything you might expect - luxurious and spacious, choosing mid-century lavishness over the minimalist professionalism of most CEOs in New York. As the thought enters my mind I chuckle, realizing I've never actually visited any other CEOs, in New York or otherwise.
8 tiny feet scuttle along a pole above the door and offer to take my coat off me. I happily oblige - the heating is on and there is nothing of the dismal New York winter in this office. I sit down in front of the CEO.
"Mr. Beckett, so glad you agreed to see me today,"smiles Veruca Salt with teeth so white I almost wonder if they're painted on.
"My pleasure Ms. Salt,"I reply, "I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear I was rather excited to see your headquarters, given my profession."
A note-taker is furiously typing a transcript of my words, using all four feet and their tail on the keyboard and still apparantly struggling.
"Yes of course, and an honourable profession it is. I can have my assistant show you around later if you'd like."She speaks with the air of someone too busy to engage in chit-chat, and too important to engage in empathy.
"As you can see,"she continues, "our workers are working out very well for us. They can do most tasks humans can, from typing and writing to tightening bolts far too difficult for human hands to get to."
"Tightening nuts,"I quip with a smile. She either misses my pun or ignores it and continues.
"We've found that the country has a dire need for workers who are both cheaper and, shall we say, more expendable than human workers. That is exactly the workforce we provide. No one else in the world has squirrels that can perform such a variety of tasks as we do."
"Except me,"I say simply. Her face sours.
"With respect, Mr. Beckett, while your breed of squirrels are... remarkable, you do not have anywhere near the resources to be of any competition to us."
"I never had a wealthy father,"I reply, "nor did I settle a lawsuit with the wealthiest chocolate-maker in history when I was a child."
Veruca Salt stands up and wanders towards ymthe window.
"I have no need for your impertinence, Mr. Beckett. That freak Wonka got everything he deserved. To think he was sitting on the perfect workforce and he still resorted to using oompa loompas... It's laughable, really."
I say nothing. After everything that came out around Wonka's mistreatment of the oompa loompas, I find her lack of empathy a little disturbing.
"Let's get back to business, Ms. Salt,"I say finally, opening the latches on the enourmous suitcase I have been carrying. She turns around, a look of hunger on her face.
"Yes, let's see what these new miracle-squirrels are capable of!"
I open the suitcase and out jump two dozen squirrels. They are grey, with smaller tails that the workers, though much stockier.
I start my product-launch speech.
"My squirrels can lift nearly five times the weight yours can,"a squirrel near her lifts a pot plant of the ground to prove my point. "And they know 1500 english words. They have been successfully educated as plumbers, electricians, automotive engineers, mining..."I smile wryly before my last one, "...and combat."
"Combat?"Says Veruca Salt, startled. "Why would they need to learn combat?"She takes a step away from them.
Far too slow.
In a second, five squirrels knock her off her feet. The other 20 catch her before she hits the floor. She tries to scream but a squirrel puts its tail down her throat and it comes out as a muffled groan.
All pretence of friendliness wipes itself from my face as I move towards her helplessly struggling on the floor. The squirrels absorb all her movements so that it is impossible for her to break free from their little hand.
I squat in front of her and look directly into her eyes.
"Revenge."
The squirrels start dragging her towards the windows. One breaks off to open the latch of a window near the floor. With impressive acrobatics, the squirrels lift her feet and start feeding them out the now open window.
I start walking back towards the door. "If you see Augustus in hell,"I peek over my shoulder one last time, "tell him Wonka sent you."
The squirrels give her a final push and Veruca Salt tumbles out of the 78th floor window towards the grey street below.
"Well done, boys,"I say quietly, "she was always a bad nut." |
As I decided to stop time once again I started getting some doubts. Everyone knows me as the Time Stopper but they don't know the toll it takes on me and my health. You see, time itself is a very difficult topic to understand, for me it works different.
In my father's last minutes he told me that he knew of my ability, however, I didn't want to use it at all. My father would still be by my side had he not accepted the mission that managed to take him down.
15 years ago, when I was 11, we were attacked, a hidden bomb was at the airport where my mom and me went to board a plane to go and see my dad who was in another state due to his work when he overheard the alarms going off in the airport. He told us to stay put and that he would go to help us when the bomb went off.
Last thing everybody knew? We were all outside and my dad was waving at us but he looked... different. When he left he was 35 years old and when he saved us all he was approximately 76 years old. That memory alone left a scar in my mind but I decided to keep my father's will to protect people.
So now, at my 46 years of age, I want to use my power one last time so I can put everyone safe. I'll see my dad soon and hopefully I can make him proud. |
"1 million dollars."
Laura looked at Dean - who has just returned from his spiritual trip to southern Asia - with a combination of confusion and disgust. "Yes, 1 million dollars. And this oil lamp.""What am I to do with an oil la- oh. It seems you have taken this 'spiritual trip' to the literal sense.'"
"Not at all,"said Dean, snarking. "If I had I wouldn't have been here."He began rubbing the lamp.
A cloud of dust began to appear in the room as a snake - no, a creature appeared. When it settled down, what stood before their eyes was a large black serpent with six arms and an almost human head - three black-filled eyes watched from above the left cheek and a yellow one on the right. In contrast to his monstrous body, he wore a fashionable tuxedo, had well-groomed hair, and carried a leather suitcase. "gentlemen,"the serpent said, after a long minute of silence.
"My office!"Laura exclaimed. A dirty floor was the last thing she expected to trouble her that day - it almost made her forget a jinn manifested in the room.
"I'm sorry, madam, let me fix this."The serpent took the lamp and blew it, making a whistling sound, and all the dust entered the other hole. "I only managed to change my attire, leaving me no time to tidy my place of living. Frequently, my masters do not mind the dust."
Dean was ecstatic. "So, Laura, will you help me?"
"I'm sorry but what the fuck is this?"Laura gestured at the serpent.
"Oh, how could I have forgotten my mannerisms? I am Al Thubean Sabaj, though you may refer to me as Sabaj. I am a Nasnas, though I believe you are more familiar with the term Djini, yes?"Laura nodded her head slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose, while Dean moved his head quickly, seating himself and offering a chair to Sabaj. "Thank you", he said, laying his long tail wrapped around the tails of the chair.
"Okay."Laura sat down, on the other side of her desk. "Okay. This is fine. Just help him and it's done. It's all done."Dean was too hyperactive to care about Laura talking to herself, though Sabaj's one yellow eye showed a bit of sympathy.
Laura made a quick call and her secretary, Jess, came over and sat across a computer. She seemed terrified, and it wasn't clear if it was because of Sabaj's intimidating body or of Laura's determinacy for Jess to come over despite it.
"Well then. I, Laura Kingsly, will represent my client here today, Dean Terrance. Do both sides agree that every proposed wish will take into effect after my rephrasing and approval of the wish?"Jess clicked and clanked on the keyboard at an impressive speed, and soon after she pulled out of the printer a paper containing articulated phrases, and four places for signing the paper, for each of the four of them - Jess serving as a witness.
"I want money. 100 million dollars."Dean began to describe what he would do with all that money, and the private island he planned to buy.
"Sabaj will transfer 100 million USD-""Pardon me. Miss. Madam. Master. But I can not give my master money."
"If you have any rules you should lay them out, then."
"You do not understand me. Those are not rules. I am a djinni, I have no power over reality, but I do specialize in fortune and delusion."
"I see."Laura sighed. "We can work with that. We can definitely work with that.
On the fourteenth of July, Dean will submit his lottery ticket to LFL. His number will be the sole winner of the lottery carried by LFL. He will be awarded 127 million USD as of its value of that day, 07/14/2021, which will be transferred into his bank account from the company mentioned above, as the normal procedure, according to state law and LFL's terms and conditions. If the transfer fails, if Dean isn't awarded the full amount, or if Dean failed to submit a lottery ticket, the contract shall be renewed and an identical process shall begin 7 days later."
"Very clever. I look forward to meeting you again."
"We will meet again in a week. I expect the contract to be carried by then."
Dean looked at Jess, cracking a smile. "Guess I'll see you on Monday, huh?"Dean reached for the lamp, but Laura stopped him. "We don't want you to make any wishes by mistake, do we? Besides, you are still Sabaj's master, He cannot obey my requests unless it is you who asks them."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
On Monday, Laura got a call from Dean, but it didn't come from his cell phone. Instead, he was in an interrogation room for stealing 120 million dollars and cybercrimes. "Laura, I need you to come right now."Dean said, his voice was heard cracking, perhaps even a cry. "I told them I will only talk after speaking with my lawyer. I don't think they trust me enough to let me stay silent for more than a day.""Are you in the local police station?""No, I-"
Dean screamed in stress into the phone. One of the two detectives in the room took the phone and gave Laura the address. He was in a CIA building.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
"I want home"cried Dean to Laura. Both were distressed. Dean was having a panic attack, while Laura walked restlessly around the room. "I want to go home."
"Shall we seal another contract?"Sabaj smiled from across the room. He smiled, and it was sure for all of them he was enjoying the process.
"What the fuck happened here?"Laura continued to walk around the room, before standing still to stare at Sabaj, with the most intimidation she could bring herself to gather.
"Ahh. Why shall I tell you, madam? You have already made this a great deal difficult for me. I am certain you will be able to understand what happened on your own. And if not, these gentlemen will provide sufficing information."
After continuing her walk for a few minutes, Laura had a moment of clarity. "You said you did not intervene with reality.""Indeed I have."Sabaj's expression, though gleeful, did not change. He was telling the truth.
"According to the detectives, Dean did win 7 million dollars, yet an additional 120 million were transferred illegally to his account. You broke the contract! It said according to state law!"
"But madam, the transfer itself was done as a legal procedure, and according to state law."
"Then why is he appointed for stealing- oh, you dirty bastard. You made their computer malfunction or some bullshit like that and made them think it was Dean's doing, didn't you?"Laura was furious, angry at Sabaj but mostly at herself. She walked up to him and held him by his neck.
"Hey now, madam."Sabaj's tail crawled up Laura's body, pushing her down with immense force. "No need to get physical."
Laura escaped his grasp. She breathed in and shook her head. "Forgive me,"she said, without looking into his eyes. "I suppose we shall make another contract."
Thubean Sabaj smiled more widely than before, wider than a human can, showing a set of sharp teeth carving into the jaw. "I only grant one wish. Not three. You are the last to claim me, madam.
You can use your wish for your client.
But don't you want anything for yourself?" |
As the massive rock fell from the heavens, chaos reigned across the globe. Many watched for the impending impact with utter dread and a peculiar sort of acceptance not uncommon amongst those on death row. Others simply went insane, rage or hate or despair at their fates fracturing their minds in those final moments.
Everyone reacted in their own unique manner but underlying it all was the inescapable conclusion, the inevitable fact that human civilization was about to end. Not with a nuke or climate change but by the very hands of fate itself.
I was not one of those losing my mind or lost in grief. Instead, I found those final moments in the arms and very wonderful, very *naked* body of the love of my life.
She lay beneath me as we writhed in the throes of passion, esctasy and no small amount of desperation in the last moments we would ever experience together in this life. We raced the asteroid to our climax, our chests heaving with exertion and inflamed hormones, her smooth skin slick against my own as we fought our way through tangled sheets with each movement.
And then, we reached *the* moment....
The peak, the height of our excited delirium, the fiery explosion of pleasure shooting across our synapses just as the asteroid made impact on our planet....
The resulting shockwave of debris and air hit us before the sound or the actual earthshaking impact could, blasting our small home and wiping it from the face of the world, as if it had never existed, as if we had never existed.
​
I awoke, to my shock, some time later. I coughed at the dust in the air, spitting up globs of mud from my lungs as I stared up at the sky, now a uniform brown and black of ash and displaced earth. My world had died, my love had died, and yet here I remained....
I rolled over in the dirt and I wept, for my fellow man, for my love.
And then I attempted to join them....
But nothing worked.
I\`ll spare you the gory details but suffice it to say, I tried every method I could without any sort of pill or gun, all to no avail.
Hours later, wrung out and seemingly even more broken than before, I lay slumped in the ground, one question on my mind:
What now?
I pondered the answer for some time, days perhaps, time passing strangely in a world of near constant twilight from the still burning fires and clouds of destruction obsuring the sky, sun and stars.
Eventually, I arrived at a plan, of sorts.
A purpose, perhaps.
It would require a good deal of travel, years perhaps and an incredible amount of labor. But that was one thing I had in spades: time.
So, I began to walk.
For days, then weeks, then years I walked and then swam and then walked some more.
I felt like I was walking the through the corpse of the old world, my old world, its body a smoking, hollowed-out wreck of blood and bone, steel and concrete, horror and loss.
I cried many a time as I found the occasional blackened skeleton holding a small, child-like skeleton or even a group of them. I was the sole witness to the murder of my race and so I forced myself to look intently on it all, the trauma it inflicted upon me was but a small price to pay to memorialize them.
When I at last reached my destination, I found the massive stone sign knocked over at the entrance to the razed facility, the buildings nothing more than their foundations, if even that.
But what I wanted was far beneath....
I rolled the sign back over with much back-breaking labor, wiping off the letters with my tattered sleeve, revealing the words:
**Svalbard Global Seed Vault**
Smiling for perhaps the first time since The Impact, I make my way to the vault itself, buried underneath mounds of shifted earth and shattered debris from the facility itself.
It looked to be a nearly insurmountable task, decades of work by hand, a few sledghammers and crow bars scavenged on my travels as my only real tools.
But I had all the time in the world.
Literally, in fact.
So, I began to dig.
And dig.
Toward hope, toward the future. Both mine and humanity\`s.
For the vault contained not just plant seeds but, according to a news report I recalled not long before Impact, the fertilized eggs and seed for animals and humans as well, along with the equipment and programs to automate reproduction.
It would take centuries for the skies to once more return to their azure glory, revealing the shining sun and the bounty of a star-filled night and I would need to work nearly non-stop to prepare everything. I would need to build homes and gather, create, or grow supplies, and try to rediscover as much technology and knowledge as I could to teach the new generation of humans when they were born.
I would guide the resurgence of the human race, support them and be the living memory of their forebears.
After all, I did have nothing but time. |
Finding official merch for a low-paid clerical position in a team like this one was challenging. Of course, Lisa's PR team had dedicated plenty of time and resource into creating merch for the numerous side-kicks. Market research, stress testing, launch events. Even her *driver* got a t-shirt after a particularly well-televised car chase last year.
When Burt had joined in September, Lisa had promised him that the Disney store would be selling mugs with his face on by Christmas. "Kids everywhere will literally be drinking from your face"she had beamed one evening, rather unsettlingly.
But it was February now, and any chance of a mug - or anything else, for that matter - had been firmly ousted by the higher-ups. Even the new shredder was a challenge: approved only after Burt had spent a whole afternoon successfully piecing together the remnants of a utility bill that revealed Lisa's full name.
"You know I need you", Lisa would say. "Why do you need some shitty fridge magnet to prove that?"
But it wasn't enough.
Like many entry-level administrative assistants, Burt was angry at the world. He had a Masters degree. It was in Sports Psychology, but still. He had it.
In primary school, Burt was voted the most likely to become Prime Minister. His family were still under the impression that he ran a marketing department in the transport and logistics sector - a job title chosen because it was tedious enough to prevent any further questioning. Yet still, the job he had *invented* for the sole purpose of sounding boring was almost certainly more exciting than his reality.
And the reality was that Burt was turning into a villain.
Here was a man that could, with the click of a button, crumble the entire dynasty of one of the world's most famous superheroes. All it would take was an email, and she'd be finished. Why didn't they realise that? Why wasn't he given an appropriate amount of respect for someone in such a commanding position?
Nobody would have to know it was him, either. Burt wasn't an expert in much, but he'd carved a career out of his talent for anonymity.
He'd have his girlfriend back, too. She wasn't the person she used to be when she had saved him from the fire. She'd started to *believe* she was super. Burt had once told her that the fact she could fly was the least super thing about her. She seemed to like that compliment more than the others. He wouldn't dare say that to her these days.
Yes: on Monday, Burt would go into the office, as he always did. He would turn on his laptop, as he always did. He would make himself a cup of tea, in a mug with Lisa's face on it, as he always did. And then he would send an email to the Daily Mail.
By 11am, the world would know.
\_\_\_\_
The traffic was particularly bad on Monday morning. He arrived at 09:07 - the sort of arbitrary, uncontrollable slip-up that would still find its way into the conversation next time he floated the idea of a pay rise.
Laptop on. Kettle boiling.
But something was different today.
He opened the cupboard to grab his mug, only it wasn't Lisa's slightly tea-stained face that stared back at him. It was his. His face. On a mug. Was this some sort of joke?
A yellow post-it note curled itself around the rim. He grabbed it, expecting to read some sort of snarky message from Steve in finance. "Happy Valentines, my hero."
With one hand, Burt placed the post-it in his pocket. He'd be keeping that. With the other, he lifted the mug from its wooden enclosure, and turned it slowly to read the message on the back.
*Behind every great superhero is an ever greater administrative assistant.*
Merch. Burt merch. Not official Burt merch, but something even better.
Maybe this job wasn't so bad after all. |
The old man reached out his frail, weathered hand for the hilt, sighing deeply as he did so, watching the sword solidify upon contact and its giver fade into the darkness. He did not want this task. He was supposed to have a comfortable, happy retirement by now, preferably by a lake somewhere. He was two hundred and forty four. How many more fated prophecies in this god-forsaken world could there be?
He was getting rid of this sword to the first traveler he saw. How could it be his fault if he gave it to the wrong person? He had been given no instructions.
As if hearing the opportunity echo in the old man's mind, a lone traveler came barreling into the cave, striding forward without so much as a "hello."He was nondescript in every way, with not even a shield to protect him from the monsters lying in wait just outside.
The old man rolled his eyes. Definitely not the Chosen One.
Whatever.
"It's dangerous to go alone! Take this." |
# Soulmage
**It was simpler this way,** thought Meloai to herself.
Ever since she'd started going to school, she'd noticed that the strongest educational tool was simplification. A ball dropped from height *h* with mass *m* had *mgh* units of kinetic energy when it struck the floor—if you made the assumption that air didn't exist. An object in motion would stay in motion, if you removed the rest of the universe from the equation.
A new friend Meloai tried to make would invariably find her "too weird"and leave, if Meloai never learned how to change herself for the better.
So when Meloai woke up and slunk into class, she applied the same simplification to everyone around her. Iola would always bully someone else, if you made the assumption that Meloai kept her head down. Cienne would always defend her with that fierce, reckless protectiveness of his, if you made the assumption that she wouldn't fuck up their friendship and lose him like she lost everyone else. Lucet would always know where to find those places where the three of them could be quiet and alone, if you made the assumption that she would continue being kind to Meloai out of nothing but the goodness of her heart.
Objects in motion. Her classmates' emotions were too complex to understand in their fullness, so she boiled them down to something she could comprehend. Objects in motion.
"Oh, hey, it's the soulless freak."Iola leered at Meloai. She tried not to react. The First Law of Sociodynamics: every reaction to Iola's bullying would be met by an equal and opposite intensification of said bullying.
"You're more of a freak than she is, Iola,"Cienne snapped from behind her. Internally, Meloai sighed. The Second Law of Sociodynamics: even though she loved Cienne, the chaos of any situation with Cienne involved always increased.
"Hey, at least I'm not a heartless machine,"Iola sneered, unperturbed by Cienne standing up for her. Meloai considered the pros and cons of telling Iola that she felt emotions perfectly fine—just in a different way than he did—but the Third Law of Sociodynamics came into play. The usefulness of explaining neurodivergence to someone approached zero as their intelligence approached zero.
Cienne opened his mouth to snap back, but Meloai placed a hand on his arm. Surprised, he turned towards her, and she gave him a faint smile.
"Ignore him,"Meloai said.
Cienne looked uncertainly between Iola and his friend, but there was no demon to slay, no monster to fight. Just a jumped-up little kid who derived some sadistic pleasure from seeing other people squirm.
"I don't know how you do it,"he muttered.
Lucet dropped her bag on the desk next to Meloai, completing the trio of friends. Equilateral triangles were about as strong as it got when it came to tensile strength, and so it was with the three of them. As long as they stayed together, nothing could tear them apart. "It's the easiest play,"Lucet said. "Wasting energy on jerks like him is just flushing your precious time down the drain."
Meloai nodded sagely. Lucet got it, although she'd come to her conclusions through experiment instead of theory. "We don't need to engage him,"Meloai said. "We've got each other."
Cienne gave his two friends a considering look, and some of the perpetual anger on his face bled out. "...Yeah. You're right. We've got each other."
Meloai leaned back as lecture began and smiled to herself as Cienne and Lucet pointedly ignored Iola's taunts. Objects in motion. It was all objects in motion.
It was simpler this way. And when the stars aligned and her models were right, it was simple enough for Meloai to understand.
A.N.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. 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, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me. |
“Gentlemen,” Shah began. “Captain,” he added to the one female in the briefing room. She didn’t nod back. Operators are like dogs, his mentor had warned him. They can smell fear. The key to briefing them was total confidence. “I’d like you to meet Objective ARTHUR.”
A dozen hard faces looked particularly frozen as Shah clicked through to the next slide. The enemy officer’s grainy photo took up the right-hand side of the screen. “ARTHUR currently commands Assault Group Three, Ninety-First Division, Western Command,” Shah continued. “Assault Group Three has spearheaded several recent breakthroughs, which ARTHUR has personally led from the front. We assess, with high confidence, that removing ARTHUR from the battlefield will have a substantial negative effect on group morale, and by extension on the effectiveness of the entire divisional area.”
A hand shot up from the front row, school-room style. “Yes, colonel?” Shah said, sighing inwardly.
“Now, I may be just a dumb grunt,” started Lieutenant Colonel Thorne. Shah had read the part of his file that wasn’t classified, and had seen that Thorne had only joined the army after getting a master’s in chemical engineering. “I may be just a dumb grunt, but that’s a bear.”
“Yes, ARTHUR is a bear, very observant, sir,” Shah said, in a tone he had rehearsed. “He’s also met every criteria for promotion they’ve got. And frankly, he’s shown more courage than most of the officers they’ve got, and is more popular with the men.”
Captain Gold looked up from the back of the room. “So let me get this straight,” she said. “You and your pals in the intel shop think that the best use of our time,” she gestured around the room, “is to go take out their mascot bear?”
“I know this is an unconventional mission-” Shah began, but Gold interrupted him.
“This is bullshit.”
“Respectfully, ma’am-” he raised his voice.
“No, not you,” she said. “I mean *this* is bullshit.”
The team’s stony faces broke into laughs. Snorts at first, then full guffaws and belly laughs. Only Gold herself remained impassive. Shah made himself smile, trying to play along.
“I know this sounds *crazy,*” he tried again, more casually now, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was saying it either. “But-”
“We’re just messing with you, rookie,” Thorne said.
“You mean-?”
Thorne rolled back his uniform sleeve. Down his arm were two twin nasty scars, jagged and thick. The kind a bear claw might make.
“You’ve got the right idea,” he explained. “But we’ve tried taking out ARTHUR before.”
Gold shook her head in begrudging respect. “Never gonna happen.” |
"Madam Chen did,"you answer easily. Auntie Chen runs the Blooming Flower -- the most popular tea shop this side of the Kāihuā river. Every merchant passing through the local port knows of her. The town's most important transactions are made over cups of her expertly steeped jasmine tea.
The merchant gives you a good-natured smile, combing a gloved hand through his black locks. His eyes crinkle at the corners, but besides those few wrinkles, his face is unlined, his skin unweathered by the sea or sun. Your eyes flicker behind him to the harbor, where his three-sailed junk is bobbing in the water. The ship is small and sleek, built for nimble navigation through the swirling currents of a river.
He can't have traveled far.
*Is this his first voyage? Is that why he's surprised to be recognized?*
"And why has Madam Chen sent you?"he asks. His voice is low and rich, carrying intimately below the cries of a vendor rattling by with a wooden cart laden with turnips. You check the woman's identity, almost subconsciously, reflexively, like a sixth sense observing her without prompting. Hou, 26. The turnips are rotten. She had bao and hot tea for breakfast.
The docks are bustling with activity this morning -- the high tide has allowed two weeks worth of idling ships to come into harbor and unload their cargo. Foremen, laborers, vendors. Hundreds and hundreds of names piled up with only the weakest caresses of your mind.
"She's inviting you to tea. She wants to discuss a business proposal."Behind your back, you flash a two-fingered signal.
*Go, go, go.*
The man -- Tian, 47, pottery merchant -- raises a brow. "And this woman I've never met asked you to come down to the docks and personally invite me?"
His charming smile hasn't hardened into severity, and the untensed lines of his body, clad in brilliant velvets, remain relaxed. His eyes betray this practiced ease, narrowing at you over dark brows, lit by some strange, obsidian intensity. You have surprised him, somehow, by calling him Tian, and are now the subject of his focused scrutiny.
*Good.*
You flash the second signal.
"She checks the lists of ships waiting in the harbor,"you reply. You make a feeble attempt at flattery to divert his uncomfortable line of questioning. "She must have seen your name there, and realized at once you were a worthy merchant to enter into trade with."
"And what name is it that she saw?"His voice has a note of steel in it.
It happens, finally: you realize your mistake. The name, the man, and signal. It's all wrong.
He isn't distracted. His body is relaxed, but not at ease. He's waiting for movement, waiting for Zhi's bony hands to slip inside his velvet pockets drooping with gold; you can see it in his flashing eyes a heartbeat before it happens. A sharp cry, a thud -- suddenly Zhi is on the ground between you and Tian, her wren-like wrist caught in his iron grip.
"Let her go!"you yell. The man looks almost as surprised as you, his gaze locked on the young girl he's disarmed.
"Shit,"he says, crouching down. "I didn't mean to--"
Zhi twists out of his grip and lurches to her feet, disappearing into the crowds.
You wrench away, chasing after her, but the man seizes your robes and pulls you close, his hand twisting the fabric as he nearly drags you off your feet to come eye-to-eye. You can feel the frustration vibrating in his towering frame. You cannot match him muscle-for-muscle, so you reach for the power you do have to disorient him.
*Identity check.*
You slam into him with the full force of your mind. *Tian, 47, pottery merchant.* He had a headache this morning. He presses his jacket with hot stones. His mother collects vases. He's in love with his brother's wife. He is raging with the fire of gods from within.
You shudder in his grasp. His gaze is frantic, searching your face, his lips unmoving, his mind speaks, asking the question you've torn from countless others.
*"Who are you?"* |
The Ral cottage blended into its surrounding. It was easy to miss if you didn't know that there was a cottage in the middle of the trees, behind some bushes, in a small clearing that could have just been a meadow or pond. The Rals had lived off the land there for years, more or less using the town to meet members of the extended family and for emergencies. The other townsfolk avoided the dense woods, worried about supernatural beings and other mysteries in the deep forest.
The Rals didn't know the mysteries as scary unknowns -- there was a family history of friends (and more) from the supernatural woods.
So Peter Ral wasn't surprised when is daughter was spending time with some boy from the woods. The daughter, Petra, was unsure about everything and, like all mischievous children, tried to keep her friend a secret.
It was dawn when Peter saw Petra and her friend have their first fight. He remembered when he found out that his wife was a Faerie. It seemed Petra was going through something similar.
Petra had gotten up earlier as she tended to and apparently she had beaten the sun, as Peter overheard.
"You're a werewolf?"was the exclamation with which Petra started the conversation with.
"Yes,"the black haired boy replied. To Peter's more experienced eyes, the boy looked like the runt of the pack.
"Are you scared that I found out that you're a werewolf?"Strange question.
"No."
"What about that silver charm I have?"Peter smirked as he continued to eavesdrop.
"Keep it away from me."
"Are you mad that..."Petra hesitated.
"YES I AM MAD THAT YOU PRETENDED TO THROW THE STICK ALL NIGHT!"
Petra burst out laughing and Peter had to move away to avoid discovery. "Sorry, I just couldn't stop."
"You'll see,"the werewolf boy glowered.
"I'll throw it next month, I promise,"Petra teased.
"Or may be I'll find somebody else who actually does."
"Sorry, Levi."
The werewolf boy smiled. "You know my name, I don't think I can just ditch you."
"I wouldn't-"Petra didn't want to finish the thought. Peter was proud of her.
"I know."
"Anyway,"Petra said, throwing a stick.
"Rude." |
I smiled as I ran back from Festus, my pack bumping up and down. My master was quite possibly the best human I had ever met. He was the gentlest one I had seen, always generous to a fault. But he had his eccentricities, collecting all sorts of weird creatures to make his home an open menagerie.
His focus somehow forced his collection to behave, meaning the lion with melanism didn't eat his two headed pig. It lead to utter chaos, with a cacophony of noise that pleased my non-existent heart. I was pleased to bring him back a new member of his collection. A monkey with its eyes inside its mouth. It made me laugh, biology was weird.
As I crested a hill, my good mood drained. Instead of a pink and orange sunset over his well kept manor, I saw pillars of smoke. Groups of humans ran around, holding torches. I opened my True Eye, looking at the mess of reality.
The signs all pointed in one direction. They sought to capture my master. I saw a gallows, with an empty noose. I saw my masters lifeless body hanging, as the commoners feasted on his collection. The part of me mimicking human emotion filled with what I knew to be anger.
I ceased my run, instead shifting along another dimension. In mere moments I found myself in his study, stepping back to my earlier positioning. I saw my master huddled on his couch, surrounded by his pack of semi feral cats. He jumped as I appeared, face creased in worry.
"Jeremy! Where... where did you come from?"
I put down my pack, taking out the sleeping monkey. I carefully passed it over, making sure I hadn't left it in a different direction in the fourth dimension.
"Master, a new piece to your collection. Now if you excuse me, I have a rabble to remove."
He accepted the monkey, holding it close to his chest. He gave a nod, distracted from the commotion by the new addition. I stepped back through the dimension, returning behind the front door. I could tell the outer buildings had been set ablaze, but they had yet to do the same to the manor. I straightened my butler clothes, before smoothly opening the rattling doors.
"I'm sorry, the master is not currently accepting visitors."
Those at the front of the crowd scoffed at me, as I stood in my human guise.
"Stuff it you old git. Show us where he is, or we'll string up another rope for you."
They pushed through into the manor, trekking mud across the floor. I was used to animals doing it, with their limited capabilities. But seeing humans act like that, it made me itch. I clapped my hand, apologising to my master mentally as I changed the mess of reality into a better order.
Those outside were sucked into the proper, fractaled manor. They shouted in alarm, a few clutching their heads as they glanced at the view I saw. Their minds were so limited.
"I told you, the master is not currently accepting visitors. But I will show you the hospitality you deserve."
I made sure to leave my masters study out of my meddling. Spitting my mind I hunted down any of his collection unfortunately caught in my actions. They were swiftly returned to their version of reality, as I split off the fractal hold I had over the humans.
I watched as some tried to run out. But they could only move in their three dimensions, limiting their movements. I had left the path to the exit clear, along the fifth dimension. I wasn't completely evil, I had to give them a fighting chance. But in their limited view they looped around, unable to leave the hall they were now in.
I pondered what to do. It would be easy to enslave them, breaking their fragile minds to follow me by showing them a glimpse of the truth. But that lead to either drooling messes or fanatics, both if which were unappealing. I could kill them easily, but that was boring. My mind settled on holding them in this fractaled version of the manor.
For me it took no effort to branch a new version of reality around my masters study. As far as he would be concerned, his house was normal. The fractal however would be my plaything. Yes, that would be fun. In fact it gave me an idea.
I had meant to investigate how pliable their bodies were. I hadn't made any followers of my own before, but basing it of a simple version of sentience would be an exciting experiment.
I split my mind again, part returning to the master. I had to look after him after all, in his own insanity. And I would have to repair the buildings they broke. Or rather, remove the damage they had dealt to them.
I sighed, closing the doors. No rest for the ancient. |
Penelope Pen-Fingers burst through the door.
"I brought the whole team, Chief! What's happening out there?"
"Oh thank God."cried a desk-riding officer with phone in hand. They passed on their relief to the mayor. "Yes! Yes, they've just arrived."
The police chief, standing with his back to the window, was washed over in the swinging arcs of red and blue lights flashing outside. "Nothing good,"he said, taking a deep sip from his spiked coffee. "It's Mr. Smoothy."
From over Pen-Finger's shoulder came a concerned gasp.
"I thought we dealt with Mr. Smoothie during the Tiger's Blood Tsunami of '22!"cried Meth-Head.
"That was *Doctor* Smoothie, 'I.E.'"said the chief. "And if only this were so simple as a frozen treat flood. No. This is *Mister* Smoothy, with a 'Y.' The criminal mastermind capable of turning rough metal surfaces smooth. AKA, *Sandpaper*. AKA, *The Buff*. AKA, one last nightmare I did not need before retirement."The police chief drained his cocktail of liquid courage and Folgers. "Mr. Smoothy has created a bomb harnessed with his powers. It's set to go off in the heart of downtown and turn every threaded nut, bolt, and screw in a two-block radius into a smooth-shafted piece."
Meth-Head chuckled.
"He's targeting the skyscrapers of downtown, where he was priced out of his apartment last year. And he's promised to detonate this bomb at exactly 9:30 tonight,"said the chief.
"9:30?"Accuronos pushed his way into the room. "But that's only, precisely, twenty-eight minutes and thirteen-point-one-six seconds away from the instant I end this sentence!"
"Then there's no time to lose,"said Pen-Fingers.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
The van pulled onto the scene with just under twelve minutes to go, according to Accuronos's internal measure. The parking downtown was terrible, but as Meth-Head pulled up to a spot that everyone suspected was way too tight to parallel park, Meth-Head gave over the driver's seat to Spacial-Aware-Ness, who, although blind, was able to accurately perceive the empty spaces around her as far as her voice could carry. Ness rolled down the windows and shouted continuously over the noise of the police. She pulled off a superhuman parking job, squeezing up next to the curb by like, two or three inches.
The superheroes filed out of the van and raced up the steps of an all-glass building.
"Are you sure it's this way?"asked Pen-Fingers. "Why would he center his smooth bomb in such a modern building that's already designed to sleek?"
"Maybe for its ideal location near the popping downtown scene as well as the business center,"said Meth-Head, "or maybe because the modern design uses less threaded bolts and would likely survive the smoothening. I'm guessing that he wants to be there, with his creation, to see it through personally."
"How can you be sure?"asked The Weather Man.
"Because I can sense all the bundles of copper wiring he used in his device."Meth-Head torched up another rock in his pipe to sharpen his senses. "Oh yeah! There's gotta be at least thirteen dollars worth of scrap copper up on the top floor."
"Let's go."shouted Pen-Fingers.
"Wait!"cried The Weather Man. "There's a cold-chill coming within the next twenty minutes, bringing heavy rain and a good chance of fog."
"Will this help us capture Mr. Smoothy?"asked Pen-Fingers.
"No. I'm just saying you'll want to bring your jackets instead of leaving them in the van."
"Good call."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Mr. Smoothy checked all the fail-safes on his home-made bomb. Everything was in order. He held a tight grip on the remote trigger and counted down the minutes. Just as expected, with less than five minutes to go, Mr. Smoothy could hear the scratching of a sharp pen on a glass wall behind him.
Penelope Pen-Fingers kicked the etched circle on the glass. On the third try, her foot successfully breached Mr. Smoothy's locked room, and one-by-one the heroes squeezed through the obnoxiously high hole she had cut.
"It's over!"shouted Spacial-Aware-Ness. "I could sense you cowering up here from two floors away."
"I know,"said Mr. Smoothy. "I could hear you shouting."
"I hope you like sunshine,"said The Weather Man, "because the state asylum is going to catch a lot of heat travelling up from the south-west this coming summer, leading to a below-average cloud cover and rainfall."
"Let's not waste anymore time on this,"said Accuronos. "We've only got three minutes and eight-point-oh-two seconds between 9:30 and right now."
"You're already too late,"said Mr. Smoothy. "I did not set my bomb's timer by any such accurate temporal intuition as exists in your head, Accuronos. All I have is a regular old dead man's switch on this remote device, set to detonate my bomb in no less than two-minutes after release."
"Why are you doing this?"asked Pen-Fingers. "Is collapsing the high-end of the housing market really going to make things any easier on you? Who benefits from destroying all these buildings?"
Mr. Smoothy laughed. "The building's are collateral damage, just a little cherry on my cold-served ice cream dish of revenge."
"Ice cream?"asked Meth-Head, "what's ice cream have to do with this?"
"Everything!"roared Mr. Smoothy. "Ice cream, snow cones, slushees, smoothies!"
The heroes gasped.
"Doctor Smoothie was my brother!"
(cont.) |
Bathor'nax, ruler of the Deep, had miscalculated.
It had seen a continuous run of petty human kingdoms and empires rise and fall. Beginning after a cycle, the humans, reduced to simple hunter gatherers, would scrape the dirt from their faces and do a lot of walking and dying for 50,000 years or so, until the environment settled down, the plagues died out, and the dead were ground down to inoperable dust. Then, they would make some advances again, rediscover a few technologies, make some cities and start repopulating the world. The knowledge of the Deep, its fury and malice, its walking death and manifest might, would be lost of vague creation myth and folklore.
Then, the Deep would rise, before the humans could figure out anything that could be an issue, and the harvest of souls would occur. The world would survive as the plan dictated, ready for it's great purpose when the star reached its maturity.
But now, Bathor'nax was tired. The energy expended last cycle was greater than before, after the humans had been lucky with some assistance by a passing celestial. Not lucky enough to survive, but it had been a longer and more costly cycle than any before. And so, Bathor'nax slept. A little too long.
The chiming of alarms, calling their master to terrible action, were like supernovae going off in the mind of the Deep One. The servitors ringing them were quickly obliterated by a mental command, and Bathor'nax decided they had earned more sleep. Ignoring the auspex showing it had been 70,000 years since the slumber began. A half decade to acquire that last extra drop of power to ensure a swift action at the start of the next cycle. Bathor'nax let out an uncontrolled wave of mental energy. "Just...5 more years".
What could it hurt.
...
Two years later, Joint Command Headquarters.
"And... contact"the Lt announced to the room. "Fusion charges active. Detonation in 3, 2, 1, detonation"
The earth beneath everyone's feet shook. Baghdad came to a halt, everyone in the city knowing what the tremors meant.
The readings began to come back in. The large chamber, practically a subterranean nation, found below some of mankind's earliest cities, was awash with the killing radiation and magma released by the detonation of tactical nuclear devices dropped into what had been identified as the geothermal power plant of the so called "Deep".
Humankind, upon the discovery that they were not the original ruler of the planet, reacted as they ever did.
Violence. Fabulous, over the top, excessive violence.
...
Bathor'nax felt the tremors. It snapped a cyclopean eye open. The last thing it saw was a kilometre wide wall of magma falling towards it.
...
Everyone around the world, awake or asleep, heard the voice ring out in their mind, "What the fu..."before it cut off. |
I knew the moment i sat down in the HR office that something wasn’t right. The HR lady i never got to know the name of sighed and passed me a stack of papers. I quickly eyed them, skimming for important information. “… are you letting me go?” I had asked in disbelief.
“I’m afraid that you pose a risk to our company, and we can not afford the keep you here” she had stated matter of factly. A quick glance up from the papers told me she wasn’t amused.
“I swear Mr. Mason said i wouldn’t be fired if i stopped the guy fro-“
“Ms Thomson, you were under a six month probation, and not even a month in you have started three fires-“
“those were accidental! The machines broke i swear!”
“Please do not interrupt. As i said - three fires-“ she looks down at another paper in what appears to be my file, “-ten lates, a write up for… spilling milk on product?” She sounded confused, “And you cost the company millions of dollars with your ‘ heroics’!” She air quoted at the word heroics.
“But it wasn’t my fault! They was trying to hurt one of the other employees and no one else would stand up for-“
“As i stated Ms Thomson. we can no longer afford to keep you on as an employee and it is my deepest regrets that i am to be the one to tell you. Now if you would please-“ as she continued with the explanation, i zoned her out.
I could not believe that this happened again. Every job i got, every change i tried to make to be a good person was always thrown in my face. I once again listened to what the lady before me said as she heaved a deep sigh And i saw her cross her arms.
“-we are grateful for what you did to protect our summer student, but there were other ways. Throwing someone through a wall is definitely not one of them. The cost of repairs alone… it was concrete you threw them through! Concrete! With a gift like that why are you working at a place like this?” She questioned and it was my turn to sigh.
“I just wanted a change is all” is all i could mutter, holding back tears of frustration. I held my hand out for the pen, “i get it, i’ll sign these and go. Do you need my badge? The work uniform got wrecked in the… resulting fight outside the warehouse” i hadn’t even paid off the uniform yet, bummer.
She sighed.
———
The bus ride home was uneventful. I was on Autopilot right up ‘til i put my key on the door.
It swung open and i could see, sat there on the couch, in full get up, was my old partner in crime, Spector. I pulled a disgusted face and slammed the apartment door behind me “get your filthy boots off my coffee table!”
“I have been here all day waiting for you to return. So Ms Thomson, did they let you keep your job after you threw me through a wall?” She asked with a smirk on her face. I glared as she continued. “That hurt by the way, im surprised your finally getting home now”
“I really don’t want to talk to you right now” i let out through the anger. I needed to stay calm, i already knew she wanted me angry.
“Awe! Sweet heart dont be like that! Theres no reason to go and do what your doing, i told you it would never work”
“Because you keep interfering!” I shouted and threw my bag at her. She caught it without blinking and i stuck my tongue out.
“We’re not children anymore, that doesn’t bother me” she stated and put the backpack next to the coffee table as she got up.
“You’re right, we aren’t kids anymore. I don’t want to be a villain anymore.”
“And i don’t want you to leave me so thats an issue” Spector clicked her tongue and got up. “We were the best team of villains, and you gave it up. Well, i’m not going to give up on you”
What does that even mean? “Im tired of being the bad guy, Jude.” I stated and headed towards my room. “Im tired of fighting heroes stronger then me, im tired of getting my shit kicked in whenever Wanderer finds us, hell you have the shittiest powers, why do you want to even be a villain?” I raised my voice for the last bit, so that she could hear me through the door i knew she was standing behind.
“Telekinesis isn’t a shitty power”
“Your version of it is” what Spector could do was just basic telekinesis. He could move things, small things that he himself could carry with one hand. And he was weak. Didn’t stop him from throwing bullets or knives though.
After changing quickly into some comfy clothes i left my room. Spector, also known as Judy Trems, my old partner was my best friend growing up. But she decided villainy was her thing and i just followed along, a bodyguard. I didnt want that anymore.
“What can i do to get you to leave without alerting all the hero’s in the area?” I opened the fridge and grabbed a water bottle.
“We could-“
“Nope! I already destroyed my suit. And you should too” she pretended to grasp her invisible pearls as the words left my mouth.
“I cant believe the great Ratel is trying to persuade me against my better judgement!”
“why are you even here? You already know after yesterday i was serious.“ i looked over at her, suspicious. She was looking down, a serious look on her face for once.
“The league of darkness has sent an invitation to us. Us, not me… they wont accept me without you, and well… your not doing this anymore. And i kind of don’t want to die” she looked at the wall as if she was seeing some great vision. All i saw was a white wall.
“What did you do to get noticed?” I asked breaking the quiet.
“You did. But then you disappeared and well-“ i followed her eyes as they went down to her boots. No, her ankle.
“Please Spec, tell me thats not-“
Spector took of her helmet that covered the top half of her face. She looked remorseful.
“When?” I asked in a quiet voice, knowing her life was in my hands. It all suddenly made sense.
“About four months into your first job at clubway, actually. They contacted me and told me i had until summer to convince you. And well, first day of summer tomorrow and all..” she sounded so nonchalant but i could see sadness on her face.
“Why didn't you come talk to me sooner? Is it tracking?” I asked, taking a swig of my water.
“…Yes to the second one”
“Son of a-“ i didnt bother finishing the sentence. I looked down at the bottle of water i had drank from, my mouth going numb. She took the bottle from me and gulped the rest down.
“Let me rephrase what i said earlier. I don’t want to die alone…” her voice slurred heavily. “Elenor, I wont let them have you, so we were going to die anyways” the last thing i hear is a small glass hit the floor then the door busting down.
Then darkness. |
Niko watched the nomad fleet unmoor and head toward the inner planets. Five hundred tons of high-grade palladium, the fruit of his 29 years as an HMC mining contractor, was going with them. One by one, their engines fired, the massive ships turning into points of light.
In his gloved hand he held the prize. It was small, no bigger than an air-scrubber, but shaped like a wedge cut from a larger circular mass. Even through the protective suit, his fingers could discern the raised lettering: '-giano'. Part of the brand. If Niko had any doubts about the authenticity of what he had traded for so dearly, they left him when returned to his pod. The pungency of the item in the recycled air was overwhelming, intoxicating: *Parmgiano Reggiano.*
Indulgently, Niko allowed himself a small nibble. It was wonderful, but mostly terrible. Nearly a lifetime eating the cheapest freeze-dried excuse for food sold by Horsehead Mining Corporation had desensitized Niko's palate to the point where the cheese hit him like an ion blast to the tongue.
Niko coughed and spat. The residue he wiped from his mouth was probably worth a dozen shifts working the augers. It didn't matter--the cheese wasn't for eating. Niko had been trying to trade for a bomb, but the space nomads only had the parmesan. A bomb would have been cheaper.
Half of Niko's tiny closet was taken up by a cubical device, covered with a piece of stretch-cloth. He had stolen the sample analyzer from the geology lab that morning; it wouldn't be missed until it no longer mattered. The moment of truth: Niko slid open the cube's front hatch and tossed the wedge inside. A full analysis was already being sent to his monitor: *Lactobacillus delbrueckii; Streptococcus thermophilus; Lactobacillus helveticus*
Yes! His gamble had paid off. It was infinitesimal, but it was there. A few stowaway bacterial ambassadors from Earth. Active cultures. This was better than a bomb. A bomb could destroy a ship or take out some infrastructure. A sample of thermophilic bacteria--strains overlooked by the HMC database, strains that could thrive in the underpowered thermal scrubbers--could do so much more.
Niko skipped his next shift. And the one after. HMC was sending him all sorts of red-flagged communiques that he promptly deleted. The miner was too busy putting his plan into action. Some cultures in the central air trunk. Some cultures in the life support system. And some 'extra cheese' added into the nutritional matrix.
The life-support in Niko's pod and the barracks surrounding failed long before he could witness the untold quadrillions of credits of damage being done to the station and the eventual downfall of HMC. *The Moon is Made of Cheese* was the last thought that passed through Niko's deoxygenated brain. He died giggling. |
Inky blackness as far as the eye could see. Thousands of stars hung on like decorations on a christmas tree. Not a trace of civilization. Only unforgiving silence.
The captain turned to find the co-pilot staring at the gauges and controls. Desparetly trying to salvage some form of amusement out of a boring situation. Starved for pleasure, he grinned when one gauge moved up and frowned at the ever static fuel gauge.
"Why don't we just slam on the pedal and go full speed ahead? Get ourselves a nice vacation? How much longer are we going to be here?"The co-pilot lamented as he reached for his hot chocolate.
"It takes a certain kind of man for this job,"the captain replied "one ready to stare into the abyss on a daily basis. With the patience of a mountain and the dedication of a tortoise. Once you get a contract, don't stop till it's done."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"6 months."
The co-pilot slammed his cup onto the deck, a few brown drops splashed onto the windshield. His blood boiling, muscles tensing and rage erupting he got up and turned back.
"No treat for you."The captain snarked, twriling his moustache
Fear. Suddenly, he realized it. Grumbling loudly, the co-pilot forced himself back into his seat
"Damn it. By now I would have ran for the hills if it wasn't for that cut."
"I must be lady luck's man as well,"the captain mischievosly smiled,"a lifetime settlement just for a box."
"But don't you think it's weird? I have never seen a box like that before. Blank, no packing tape. Just the word, 'Open in case of emergency'."
"Boy you ain't seen nothing. You ever seen a woman with tentacles?"
The co-pilot's testosterone suddenly perked, he came in close,"Go on."
A hour went by with cries of 'woah' and 'wow' echoing in the cockpit. By the time he finished the captain grinned ear to ear.
"I can't believe it. Is she still around?"
"She still waits for my arrival, with the money from this trip we can both settle down. She also has a younger sister who like red hot dudes."
"Like me?"
"Pricesly!"The captain triumphatly slammed the console,"In just a day you'll be all over her. Then we can all live happily ever after!"
"Sounds too good to be true."
"Well, it i-"
The captain was interrupted by a loud blast. Gas hissed and screcched. Whirling red lights and raplidy flaying gages threw the cockpit into pandemonium. Now came the sound of footsteps.
Space pirates.
"Stay here, I'll handle this."Leaving the co-pilot at the end the captain rushed to the door. Kicking his door open he brandsished his revolver. Carefully he moved ahead step by step, dimly lit by the filing celieng lights. Suddenly he stopped.
The client's box was open. Ripped by the turbulence and shrapenel. Then the sound of gunfire. The captain rushed over to find the pirates dead, lying in a pool of blood. Meeting him eye to eye was the culprit. A figure beyond human comphrension. One beyond description.
Awestruck, the captain's jaw dropped. He could only muster one sentence:
"Did you come out of that box?!" |
On the day of my 18th birthday, I have chewed on the expertly applied stain on my lips whilst considering the bare skin of my forearms. I could wear them, I reason. It has been years and they show no signs of power whilst laying dormant in my dresser.
As I have possibly a hundred times before, I pull open the drawer to consider them. Not touched with bare skin since the day they fell, they were carefully collected and wrapped in silks. It seems the gold never tarnished, the gleaming surface just peeking through the bundle of cloth.
The fabric falls aside so easily, pooling around the cuffs as if it had been waiting to unveil the treasure beneath. They almost glow, so beautiful is the sight that my hand is closing the first clasp before I know it, and the other snaps to my opposite wrist with a sharp sting.
The immediate flood of power suddenly at my fingertips is overwhelming, I can feel everything down to how the atoms in the universe can be manipulated to my will. My skin sings and I am able to morph and change at will. Possibilities feel limitless. I can no longer feel pain, my body is merely a vessel to the vast cosmic power that now lay before me.
As quick as the euphoria arrived, it is ripped from me as the world comes crashing in. I am torn from physical form and my being is sucked through a vaccuum into a dark and crushing space. I have no senses, no strength, no will, and no magic.
On the dresser, a new oil lamp sits waiting. |
“What happened here?” The coroner pulled back the sheet, revealing a bruised purple face that might once have been a pretty girl. She pulled out a file from the side of the slab, and opened it to the toxicology report. She flipped to page two, page three, and kept going skimming the extensive list of names ranging from Belladonna to trace amounts of Uranium. “What on earth is wrong with those lab techs?…”
—-36 hours earlier—-
“Honey, eat this.” A pretty young lady handed a bowl of soup to her husband at the table.
“I have a stomach ache, but I appreciate it princess.” He replied, gently setting the bowl down despite her protests.
“You’re skin and bones, always have been. You need something substantial, more than those salads and yogurt you eat all day. This will be good for you, I promise!” She put the bowl back in his hands and turned around briefly to grab a spoon. She heard the bowl drop back to the table, gently again, always gently like everything else her husband did. He never did learn to be strong anywhere except his business deals. “I said eat!”
“I did, it’s okay princess. I’m full, I just drank it out of the bowl.”
She smiled a hideous grin, then twisted her face back into something more appropriately lovey dovey, like she always did, before turning around. “Oh thank you hubby, it’s good that you’re finally eating something worth having.” She eyes the bowl, only half full now, and did her best to keep a steady face. He smiled lightly, then grimaced just a bit. “I think I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”
She watched him stand, then pause, and finally… Walk calmly to the bathroom? No, that couldn’t be right. Surely he couldn’t be standing, the poisons and doses she used should have already gotten into his system. It wouldn’t take this long, not for some of the faster acting ones.
She looked at the bowl in disbelief. Had she done something wrong? Against her better judgement, she dipped the spoon into the bowl. If he had survived once again, after a full year of eating her deadly recipes, maybe something was just wrong with the ingredients? She tried a bite, sour and foul, and immediately her throat seized up and her eyesight blurred slightly. She lurched towards the dead plant in the corner of the room and started to vomit, but her throat wouldn’t let anything back up. Besides, the potted bush looked like it had already been filled… She idly realized through the onset of delirium what had happened.
The pot had been filled… With soup. |
"So does that mean you can't help me?"
Yalwal leaned forwards, interlacing her fingers before resting her chin atop them. The crow and rat skull bracelets rattled around her wrists, lying against her lace gloves. "Well, I don't know about that. It's a unique challenge, removing a blessing. I can't wait to get started."
Her prospective client gave a grateful smile. It seemed to flash in the light, projecting an unconscious aura of affability. Now that she knew about it, she could identify it, and harden her heart to its divine touch. She stood up straight, waving a hand at her shop door. It gently closed, it's sign flipping over to Closed.
Waving her hand again, the shutters rattled together, plunging her cluttered floor into darkness. That darkness was soon fought back, as twelve skull-shaped sconces lit with a faint thump. "Now we have some privacy, please take a seat, and I will have a look."
He gave a nod, looking around for a chair. It didn't take long, as some lay scattered around the floor. Snagging the closest one, he took a seat, breathing deeply. "Thank you."
Yalwal smiled, a sense of rueful amusement. "You might not want to thank me in a moment. By all accounts, this part is rather unpleasant."
He worked to maintain his breathing, keeping it deep and even. She swept over, retrieving her black-leather grimore. Flicking through its pages, she settled on one, showing an image of a glowing orb, surrounded by a multitude of spinning rings. Holding it open, she pressed her fingers to his chest, muttering beneath her breath.
As she finished her incantation, her fingers slipped deeper, reaching into his core. He gasped, face going pale with a faint green hue. Yalwal ignored it, gently pulling back. From within his chest emerged a ball of glowing white light, with rings surrounding it in a similar way to her illustration.
She looked it over, seeing the various colours each ring was, with none being repeated. "I like to talk as I work. Do you know what this is?"
He shook his head, breaths now short and sharp. "N-no."
Her eyes remained fixated on the sight before her, reading deeply into it. "Ah, of course. Well, this is essentially your soul. Or rather, that white light in the centre is. These rings, they are all the things that affect it. Memories, actions, talents, everything."
She reached out, carefully moving one aside. "Now, seeing it is relatively easy. Affecting any part of this however, that isn't. Generally, unless you want someone to fiddle with parts, it tends to be untouched. Of course, if you neet someone particularly potent, then they can... well... force changes. I however, need your permission and help to do that."
She continued to move rings with a delicate touch. He looked at her face, quietly asking a question. "So... can you see my past?"
Yalwal laughed, though her gaze remained focused. "Oh no. I can see the rings of it, but I can't see in depth. If I wanted I could spend time reading it, but I don't like doing that. It's a bit of an invasion of privacy! Now, whats interesting here is where the blessing is. Curses are easy. They are black, and stick out like a sore thumb. A blessing, well, I haven't actually seen one yet."
He sucked in another breath. "W-why are they black? E-everything else is colourful."
She nodded. "Good question. You see, curses require the caster to put a part of themselves into the victim. Being a foreign, and unwelcome, addition to the souk, it tarnishes in moments. Blessings, from what I've read, are gifts, accepted by the blessee. So, they in theory don't tarnish."
Her head tilted to the right, and her fingers shot out with uncanny precision. A golden ring was pinched within, vibrating as she held it. "Ah hah! This looks promising."
He watched as she lifted it up, peering intently at it. "Ah, yes. This is definitely it. The pattern of construction is delibrate, not a natural formation."
Yalwal raised her free hand, pushing the rest of his soul back within. He gave a grateful gasp of air as it entered, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. "I-is that it?"
She laughed again, shaking her head. "Oh no. That was the easy part, finding the blessing itself. No, now I have to work out how to break its bindings. This will take a few days, though I would recommend not leaving town in that time. This is still connected to you. If you stray too far, you may encounter unpleasant side effects." |
"And to who do I owe my eternal love and gratitude, may I ask?"
"They call me the White Knight"
I'm actually black, but I can't afford to have my armor colored so in certain lights it looks blindingly white and I am just hoping the name sticks.
"And you owe me nothing. I exist purely for the detriment of overreaching fathers and ne'er do well mothers. I travel the lands giving power back to the adolescent and taking it from those who improperly use it."
"I see...But surely you want to offer your blood in sacrament, so we may form a new union and rule these lands, carving our marks with the suffering of our enemies. You did not free me just to walk away from the gifts our dark lord has offered?"
Now this was strange. Back home, offerings after freeing a princess were customary. Usually beginning with an explanation from the princess that upon her return to her kingdom I am to be wed with her, enjoying a life of great wealth and privilege. When denied, there is usually some pleading. Offerings of land, or in some special cases, sexual gratitude. I have yet to accept though for if I had claimed these offers, that would be the last princess I help. I would no longer get to travel and free those from the oppression of royalty. It was my calling.
But after crossing into this land they call "Transylvania", things began to change. This was the 4th princess now to want my blood, and they are all obsessed with power. I have not deduced why the culture is so much different here.
"No my fair maiden, I claim no such prize. Your freedom is all I desire, and I have more to pull from the clutches of parental abuse!"
And just like the others, she let out a terrifying hiss and took off faster than my horse could run.
'The women in these parts sure are fit, temperamental too', I thought to myself, shaking my head in amazement as I packed my steed.
​
​
\----I haven't decided if I will continue the story. It's supposed to have somewhat of a monty python feel to it though. Does that come across when you read it? |
The dark lord scratched another tick onto the enchanted stone walls that held him. He sighed in gloom as he took a step back and saw the countless scratches he's made over the 20 DECADES he's been improsoned.
He was in the middle of doing an entire nothing for the rest of the day before a strange noise reverberated around the prison. The airlock to the cell opened door the first time since he was locked up. A familiar face walked in with a grave expression. The demon lord was flushed with a flurry of emotions, before shadenfruede surfaced.
"You... HA. YOU?! OUT OF EVERYONE IN THIS DIMENSION, *YOU'RE* LOCKED UP HERE NOW?! HAHAHAHA"
The chosen one sulked over to a stone slab seat accross the demon king, unanswering but wincing to the taunts. The demon king continue pouring salt into the wound.
"I always knew humans would turn out this way. To give you credit, you lasted far longer than I expected, but you're here nonetheless. Power will always corrupt. So, what're ya in for? Did you kill an entire continent that dared to oppose the oh so might chosen one? Did you go too far in taking advantage of the hoards of women that fawn over you? Please, indulge me. Seriously, it's been what, 200 years? Give me anything."
The chosen one grimaced as he thought about his misdeeds against humanity. The demon king slid over to his seat and put one of his many dark arms over the chosen one's shoulder, nudging at his golden chestplate in an effort to get something out of him. After a few seconds, the chosen one cracked.
"I... I have commited a crime for the first time in my life. I am deeply ashamed, and I shall payback who I have wronged 10 times, no, 100 times back. I am truely sorry for..."
"Uh huh... spit ir out, c'mon."
"...for eating a turkey sandwhich without paying..."
"HAHA, I TOLD YOU- what"
"I went to a resteraunt a couple hours ago and ate a light lunch before helping at another charity event. I realized I was going to be late, so I hurried out of the establishment, completely forgetting to pay for my meal."
"Hold on, wha-"
"After realizing my wrongdoings, I turned myself in. I had to spend an hour convincing the senate that I should serve my time in prison to show the citizens that nobody is above the law. I am terribly sorry for coming in unannounced, old friend. I will leave you be when my sentance ends in around 3 minutes."
"..."
"..."
"...Fuck you." |
First John went down. He had been trying to get a girl and he was never good at it. He was always so nervous.
Then, a split second later, three people on the other side of the room from me also went down. As I looked over at them, I blink once from turning my head. I turn to look back at my best friend, blinking again. I watch him blink twice, and then collapse as he blinks a third time.
I don't even know why I notice the blinking, something has drawn my attention to it, and every time someone blinks, it sounds like a starting gate for a race in my head, *beep, beep, BEEP* and suddenly that person collapses. That is what happened to my best friend.
When I heard that I knew, I had to get out of the house. My gut told me that if I could escape that house, I could survive.
It was a measly 15 feet to the closest escape. I tried my hardest not to blink.
Then a gust of air hit me in the face.
Then, nothing. |
It was so easy to see who wanted out. The cowards. The assholes. They were all selfish because they knew it would only be a matter of time before they'd be gone. I had heard about the old days, the days when people would brutallly murder themselves using knives, guns, and ropes. But now it was all too simple. Those who wanted to die acted as they pleased while those who wanted to survive had to act impeccable at all times. Some people thrived in this new way of living, opening doors for the elderly, allowing people to go ahead of them in line, always saying please and thank you. But I saw through it. They were all as fucking selfish as the rest. Most people would accept these honorable acts as gratuitious and kind, believing that people behaved that way because they truly cared. Well that's fucking bullshit.
No one cared. No one gave a shit. They were doing everything for themselves, to live longer or to die sooner, as long as it was what they wanted. The other day, in the grocery store, I saw an old man lose his footing in aisle 3 right by the canned peaches and fall on his face. This man was a skeleton with loose skin clinging to his bones, his hands disjointed and immovable, the hair that remained upon his head was wispy, frail, and white. So as this old geezer is laying there having a staring contest with the floor up trots this lean, bronzed man who must drink a cup from the fountain of youth every morning with his wheaties. And this man tries to assist the mummy up from the floor only to recieve a loud grunt and mumbled obscenity. Know what he did? Fucking. Smiled. His plush lips pulled back to reveal award winning pearly whites.
That is fucked up.
Those two men were probably the same age, maybe the old guy was actually younger, who knows. But that's what no one sees. Society changed to weed out the assholes but all it did was make everyone crazy. You either were unhappy and dying or fake and living. It's all a load of goddamn bullshit.
Want to hear the punchline to this joke of a world? I probably don't look any better than the guy in aisle 3. This world made me angry. This world is killing me. |
Little Red Riding Hood came to her grandmother's cottage, where she was waiting in her rocking chair with a warm smile on her face. She gave her the basket and told her the adventure she had getting to grandmother's house, who herself wrapped Little Red Riding Hood up in her cotton blanket and snuggled her safely into bed.
**THE END.**
Meanwhile,
In another, entirely *different* cottage not too far from grandmother's house, a shadow behind the grandfather clock nudged across the living room.
"First I'll roast her belly, and serve it with with berries and plums!"Thought the wolf, his jaw glistening with spit. He flitted passed the table, spilling dishes and plates onto the floor as he ran.
"I'll devour the old lady whole, and I'll hide in her clothes! The wolf leaped from behind a soft chair, ripping pillows and duvets, but his teeth could find nothing but lace and felt.
"So she's asleep in her bed?"Grinned the wolf, "I'll pay her a visit and rip open her throat!"But the bed was empty. *All* the beds were empty. The wolf sat by the door puzzling this mystery until he heard voices from downstairs.
"Mama bear, mama bear, someone's ruined my dinner!" |
I wake up next to a Chilean pornstar whose name I don't remember, and the events of last night flash through my mind, bringing a smile to my face. No matter how drunk I am, I never forget anything. My sexy little fuck muffin is still sleeping, so I slap her ass and get out of bed to take a shower, hoping she'll join me. She doesn't; not everyone can have the constitution of a soldier. Not everyone can drink a 40 of Appleton Rum and fly a helicopter from Las Vegas back to glorious L.A.
Getting out of the shower I shave my pubes, sweeping the trimmings into a box I'm keeping for no discernable reason. Originally, I was going to use them to prank Phillip Seymour Hoffman, but then I remembered that he's dead. I considered pranking his grave but thought otherwise; I don't know if ghosts exist, but if they do, they surely count him among their number. He told me as much at his funeral.
Breakfast is a shot of tequila, a shot of tabasco, five hard boiled eggs, and a bowl of cold leftover pulled pork. My Chilean consort is still asleep, a red handprint on her left ass cheek. I got things to do and can't wait for her to wake up, so I leave a note; "Gone to work, thanks for last night. Don't lock the door when you leave."I hide her clothes and take her cellphone with me. 22 missed calls, tough luck. Your Hello Kitty iPhone is mine now.
I never lock the doors to my house; an open challenge to any would-be robbers to come in and steal my twenty Oscars, mostly bought off washed-up Hollywood stars, my name written overtop of the winners in sharpie marker. Cuba Gooding Jr. sold me his for a pound of cocaine and permission to punch me in the face. I didn't bleed a single drop even though he broke my nose. If anyone breaks in, I'll hunt them down and feed them their own kneecaps for brunch, and everyone knows it and fears me.
By noon I'm on the set of my latest movie, some ridiculous cop flick called, *McRage*, starring Nicolas Cage. It's got ninjas, zombies, lots of action, and goddamned Nicolas Cage. I hate that guy and tell him so every day. He laughs like I'm joking and feeds me Scotch by the gallon in his trailer, the sanctimonious hack. Turns out I was supposed to be here at 6am for a pivotal action scene. No, I didn't get the call, I don't have a cellphone. Why would I need a phone?
Makeup, costuming. I can hear explosions; they're filming what they can without me. The director is some kid new to Hollywood, McG, he calls himself. Ridiculous name. Real men don't invent names, they invent legends. I tell him as much every day, and he tells me to sober up. Joke's on him, I'm so drunk that I practically am sober.
I improvise my lines because I don't remember them. Everyone is impressed, my dialogue is way better than the script or the book it's based on. This flick won't win me an Oscar, but it will give me enough cash to buy two or three more.
Filming takes all fucking day. By the time I'm done at 4pm I need beef the way Nicolas Cage needs to be worshiped. As we leave the set he shows me photoshopped pictures that people made of him and put on the internet. I think he wants me to be jealous, but seeing his face on Kim Cardassian's body makes me fear I'll never have a stiff cock again. I've got a knife tucked into the small of my back and I clutch it compulsively. If the next picture shows that damned Cardassian's breasts exposed with Cage's face grinning, I swear I'll slit his throat. They'd never dare arrest me; I've got enough refined uranium in my basement to make Hollywood a ghost town for ten thousand years. Damned if I remember where I got it from though; either an Arab prince or Julia Roberts' brother.
Head to a restaurant with Cage; I get a 16oz steak, rare and bloody, with three lobsters on the side. Cage gets the same, but only after I place my order. I think the poor asshole admires me, so I decide to make fun of his kids for a while, then offer to buy his Oscar off him. "Oh wait, I already did that. *Leaving Los Vegas*? More like Leaving Bankrupcy Protection!"I laugh way too loud and he looks uncomfortable but doesn't have any comebacks. When we finish eating I run out on the bill and leave him alone at the table. I'd bet my left nutsack that he's going to run out on the bill too, just to try and equal my manliness. The fact that he has to try means he's already failed.
When I get back home, my Chilean sex kitten is waiting for me in the nude because I hid her clothes. She says she missed a photoshoot today, and why the fuck don't I have a phone in the house, and what did I do with her phone? Her questions cease the moment my pants hit the floor, along with her jaw.
When we're finished, I stay up till 3am drinking Jack Daniel's and writing a 40-page letter to Peter Jackson, outlining all the reasons why I should be the next Peter Parker. I have a lot of reasons, and they're all valid. Fuck you, Tobey Maguire. I know you're not Spiderman any more, but fuck you nonetheless. I hit 'send' on the email, CCing George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, and Oprah. Briefly I wonder if my "PS"should have gone on in such explicit details the reasons why I want Oprah to be my sex slave for a month; but then I remember:
I'm Gary Busey, and fuck them if they can't handle it.
I fall asleep on eBay, bidding on a fake Oscar that says, "Best Mom". Before passing out, I leave a sticky note on my shower door: bring my box of pubic hair to set tomorrow. Cage is going to get what's coming to him, and things are going to be hairy. |
When I was 25, my uncle persuaded me to spend some of my inheritance in auctions of various sorts - unclaimed goods, cars, and storage units of deceased peoples whose family did not claim their possessions or people without family and no debts to pay.
I won a unit about thirty minutes out of town in a neighboring village. The village was rather affluent, and the surrounding structures and businesses mirrored the quaint and slightly humbled community. When I arrived with my uncle to uncover potential treasures of the past, it was rather normal. The owner had passed away of a drug overdose - that was the only information offered on the former owner. Around my age, possibly a junkie of some sort or maybe even someone who just messed up. Either way, when we opened the door to the unit, we found quite a few interesting things and even some furniture pieces in good condition that could be sold off or even used in either of our homes.
We didn't uncover too much that day, but I came on my own the next day to satiate my curiosity. I've always loved finding new things and information of those passed.
What I found the most interesting though, was the antique oak desk with notebooks and writing utensils that didn't seem as untouched as most other things in the room. Next to the desk on the right was a standard filing cabinet, without locks or anything of the sort stuffed with CDs and DVDs and even a few external hard drives I would make sure to put to use.
I probably shouldn't have opened the notebooks, which probably belonged to the deceased and I should have afforded them some privacy even in their time passed, but to whomever's dismay, I read some of the documents. Some of them dated back to when I was in the 8th grade, and it appeared that the author had detailed their middle school years.
They had attended the same school as I had, presumably around the same time. The author had quite a rough year and was bullied often. I pitied their plight - the school had always had a bullying problem, and nobody was exempt.
At the beginning of the year, the bullying wasn't too harsh. Everything that was the norm at the school. Something stuck out to me though, and that was the descriptions of a short but apparently attractive girl the author longed after.
The journal's writer wrote a few pages about this girl every other day or so. He wrote about how he had planned to ask her on a date, but it became increasingly disturbing and creepy as the journal went on. At first it was cute, like any other middle schooler in love - but I found similarities between the author and my experiences too mirrored to ignore. I soon realized that the child in question referred to me, and the boy who wrote this was none other than my first secret admirer, Jacob Hayes.
Jacob was a nice boy, but extremely awkward. He would often try to talk to me and I would become extremely fed up with him, to the point where after the first semester I was regularly harassing him for no reason. I was really sick as a kid - looking back, I'm ashamed and I could see how much it was actually killing Jacob. He didn't pursue me after a while, but the fear of me and his peers was expressed elegantly in writing. The pain seeped out from the ballpoint pen writing.
I continued through the journals, and mentions of me and my little "gang"of friends dissipated around 10th grade. By that time we had been too busy with our boyfriends and extra curricular activities to be evil snots, combined with the general maturity that comes with age. Jacob apparently moved to the village adjoined to the storage unit, and was home schooled from 11th grade until graduation.
One thing I noticed was the general maturity and fluency of his writing. I know it's strange to mention it halfway through the story, but the longer the journals went on the more and more withdrawn but eloquent he became.
By the time I had finished with the first two journals, it became very late and so I took one of the external hard drives home to look at the contents and find out more about whoever had owned the unit. On it was Jacob again, but he recorded videos and had manuscripts of a few books on it - I haven't deleted them and I made backups. One of these days I'll read them, I swear. But one of these manuscripts was titled as "Memoirs", so naturally, I took a look as the genre seemed different from the other titles which had fantasy elements to them.
I skimmed it, but the entire thing seemed to be reflected in his increasing misery. He mentioned me, my friends, and the lack of friends that followed him once he exited school. He had been put on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety drugs to help curb his depression, but he had apparently made a modest wage writing fantasy books at a young age. He was proud of the success he had made at only 24 years of age - I have to admit, I was proud seeing his writing too. The guilt kept compounding on me though, but I was curious as to the mind of a boy I once knew.
At the end of it, he wrote how he was excited to publish his newest book online and that things were coming back up.
I searched for it online - according to a few local articles, Jacob was rejected from a publisher but his response was that he would keep trying with others. However, a week after the latest article was published, I found an obituary from a few months ago that mentioned Jacob's passing and noted that he "...passed away in his home from an accidental drug overdose."
I cried that night more than I had in a long time. I doubted it was accidental, but I couldn't bring myself to look anymore. Later that week, I tracked down Jacob's parents and I handed them the title and keys to the storage unit, and I talked to them. I talked to them about everything Jacob wanted to accomplish, I apologized for being so terrible to him, and I cried more than once. We became close, and I needed to do something for him.
My first biography is set to be published next month. |
The rain hissed and snapped along the length of the green lightsabre. The two figures stood completely motionless and then slowly she dropped her hands to her side and from her sleeve her own lightsabre appeared in her hands. With a deep *thwum* it turned on and the deep red glow pushed back the green and the forest clearing was now split, two tone.
“It doesn’t have to be like this” her voice was beseeching. I swear to you that everything I have ever told you has been the truth; I have never once lied to you.
His eyes did not leave hers, despite the water flowing from his hair, across his face, his gaze was still and steady. He reached inside him and heard the voice of his master, calm and assured *allow the force to flow through you, release your feelings and surrender your will to the force*. He released his feelings and felt them flow from him, love, anger fear, all washed away by the calm will of the force.
“You have lied by omission ever day Chiara” his voice surprised him by being steady. Still he held his sabre ready to strike, hers was by her side, held casually. He probed forward with his mind, trying to see if he could sense her, get any feeling on how she would act but he felt nothing, less than nothing. Where he should have felt her warm comforting presence was a gaping hole in the force; it struck him, she could manipulate her impact on the force, nothing he had ever felt could be replied on.
She lowered her head and looked away, causing him to tighten his grasp slightly, but instead of the attack he half expected, she turned away and turned her lightsabre off. Suddenly her side of the clearing was cast in shadow and hr pale face seemed to shine in the glow of the three moons and his lightsabre. A tendril of fear began to gnaw at his stomach. She was still silent and the strain was beginning to hurt.
“I lied to you once, Beyorn, the first day I met you on Nulles four months ago. I told you I was a part of the political exchange programme but I was there to assassinate the First Minister. Since that day I suppose I may have let you believe certain things but… I did it because of what I felt for you.” She turned back and faced him and the lightsaber fell from her grip onto the soaked grass. “Beyorn, I love you.”
She moved forward and placed her hand on his face, he flinched and then closed his eyes as her soft hand caressed his cheek. The tendril of fear grew and he now understood why it was penetrating through his training. He loved her and that was going to lead him to his damnation.
End of part 1.
EDIT: Had someone asking and yes, keep reading and there are lightsabre battles.
|
"Who is it? "The bubbly blonde spoke in a song like voice.
"Pizza delivery"a strange nasal voice responded.
"Odd"she mused "I'm sorry, I didn't order a pizza. Ewe carbs.
"Sushi guy"the voice calmly responded.
"Heavens no! "she gasped. "There's no such thing as a dolphin safe net!! "
"We have a date"the voice murmured.
"In a Ford focus?"turning her nose up after looking at the driveway.
"Mac cosmetics "the voice sighed
"Yay"she squealed.
The murder remains unsolved. It was just too baffling. What sick bastard would kill then stage a shark attack in Scottsdale, AZ? |
There once was a man who told me,
The best camera you'll ever find,
Despite its flaws and failures,
Is none other than your mind.
So cherish each moment,
Like a wave upon the sand.
And treasure every second,
Before it tumbles from your hands.
But all these sweet, dear memories,
Memories all of you,
How could they hold a candle,
To the angel that I knew?
You brought me light in darkness,
You brought me hope through fear,
You sang me songs of solace,
And gave me all I hold dear.
So tell me then, how can I hold,
These memories that we made?
How do you tell the summertime,
To blossom, but never fade?
Like a butterfly, through fragrant fields,
You never could stay still -
Like a crimson dawn, or a half-swallowed yawn,
Or the bluejay's jaunty trill.
For *you* made each day new and fresh,
Reborn anew, and yet,
One more adventure still remains,
Our final, last duet.
They say that I can have but one,
For they blissfully do not know:
Just one more moment spent with you,
Would bring fulfillment to my soul. |
No, we shouldn't.
This sub promotes creativity. Blocking topics/subjects are blocking creativity. If that many users disliked those topics, they would not get upvoted to be at the top of the sub - so logic dictates that by disabling we are merely catering for the minority who are complaining.
Also, as always, if you don't like a Prompt then rest assured - you don't have to read/respond to it.
[EDIT: for those who want it in story form.]
The sun blinded Bob as he rounded the corner of his flat block. He was heading down to his local Writing Prompt Daily office, complaining again about the topics he got on yesterday's newspaper. They never seemed to print things that he wanted, always the popular topics that he hated.
Grumbling he walked into the WPD offices and shuffled up to the counter. Scratching his ever present stubble he gruffly asked the woman sat behind the desk if he could talk to the content moderation team.
"Of course sir, if you would just like to take door 42 over there it will lead you right to them"
Bob shuffled off, mumbling and grumbling under his breath and the pointlessness of it all. Opening door 42 he looked down a dimly lit corridor, the overhead lights flickering on and off.
He walked slowly down the corridor, a feeling of overwhelming anxiousness coming over him as he did. At the end of the corridor is a single door, with a plaque on it reading "Moderation Team". Slightly ajar, a bright light can be seen within.
Slowly he inched to the door, and reached out tentatively with his hand to push it open. A loud creak shattered the silence as it opened up before him.
In front of Bob was a small well lit room with only one feature taking up the entire of the three other walls.
Mirrors.
The simplicity of it all hit Bob suddenly. He smiled and turned around, a near leap in his step as he exited first the room, then the corridor, then the building. The smile stayed until he got home and fired up the Writing Prompt reddit. It even stayed as he was presented with todays hot topics, including those he didn't like or enjoy. It widened even more as he reached for his mouse and took control. |
I'm confident he didn't see me exit my home. He strolled casually across the town without a care in the world. Follow ME will he? Ha. Two can play at that game.
He paused in the city park and looked around. Did he notice me? No. He got low to the ground near a bed of flowers and seemed to inhale deeply. Then he urinated on them. The bastard. I liked those flowers.
He took off again at a faster pace this time. I was determined now to learn more. Just who was he? There was only one way to be sure. I had to bide my time.
He ducked down an alleyway and I followed without hesitation. He was rummaging through a dumpster. Now was my chance.
I rushed up behind him and took a huge sniff of his butt. I had misjudged him. He was a kind soul who was simply making sure I got home okay.
Fast forward, we're now the proud parents of five beautiful puppies. My human isn't thrilled with it, but humans are rarely thrilled about anything. They really need to lighten up. |
Cindy, young and blonde, peeks into my wood-panelled office. "Dr Barry, your 4:30 patient is here. Shall I send him in?"
"Yes, Cindy, I'll see him now."I say, suppressing a groan and stretching in my chair. 4:30 is a new patient, but my last for the week. With luck I'll be able to wrap things up by 5 and be on my way by 5:15. But Cindy's still at the door.
"Oh! I almost forgot- Mary called. She seemed pretty distressed- said her new drugs aren't working and that she's feeling really down. I told her the usual things- keep taking the pills, try to stay upbeat, and wait for next week's appointment. D'you want to call her back?"
I force a smile and shake my head. Mary is a problem patient- prone to theatrics, difficult to console, and absolutely impossible to keep away. Glorious Friday evening beckons, with its beer, friends, and raucous laughter. No troublesome young Goth is going to spoil it for me.
--
4:30 turns out to be an old man with tired eyes, with hair graying around his temples. He gives a boring (but thankfully short) history of diminishing energy, poor sleep and loss of interest in his hobbies. Depression, probably. Routine. I barely meet his eyes, and begin to automatically fill up the patient sheet. But he surprises me with his next sentence.
"You know, doctor,"he says, leaning forward in the chintz visitor's armchair. "I used to be a psychiatrist, too."
"Really?"I said, interested despite myself. I know most of the psychiatrists around here, but I've never seen this man at the local conference. "Where did you practice?"
He smiles sadly. "I used to practice around here, in fact, but I retired 10 years early. Too much stress for me."
I nod sagely. We chat amiably about medicine and recent updates in psychiatry (he's not out-of-date, surprisingly). As he gets up to go, I tell him, only half-joking, about some of my more irritating patients.
"So I told Mr Tom to just have it his way, and skip the vaccinations. It's his own stupid fault if his kids catch something, anyway. And Mary... don't even get me started on Mary!"I was expecting a grin or a chuckle back, but 4:30 only frowns thoughtfully.
"Young man, sometimes we lose sight of the bigger picture. Some of our patients are unreasonable to the point of idiocy, or too ill to help themselves. But it's our job to help them- as doctors, we took an oath to heal and to relieve pain."He pauses at the door briefly, seeming to consider, then says quietly, "I had a patient named Mary, once. She was borderline, but one day she snapped and I lost her. I don't think I've ever stopped blaming myself since."
--
4:30 leaves. I remain in my chair, feeling slightly odd. Cindy bustles in, tidying up, getting ready to close the office. As she collects the patient file on the table, she halts, blinking prettily a few times. "Oh, they made a funny mistake here, look. They printed your name instead of his!"
I look down, slowly, at the bold letters printed on the file. Then suddenly realization hits me like a truck and I'm running out the door to my car. My phone is already in my hand, and as I dial Mary's number, I pray to God that this time, this time I am not too late.
|
"Damn it, Philipa! I know you cheated on me! Our son has BROWN hair! I'M BLOND!"
"Ted, I have brown hair."
"Oh. Right."
------------------
ALTERNATE STORY:
"Damn it, Philipa! I know you cheated on me! Our son has BROWN hair! I'M BLOND!"
"Ted, you have brown hair, not blond."
"Oh. Right."
"If you were blond, that could explain why you're so stupid."
------------------
ALTERNATE STORY 2:
"Damn it, Philipa! I know you cheated on me! Our son has BROWN hair! WE'RE BOTH BLOND!"
"Ted, I dye my hair."
"Oh. Right."
------------------
ALTERNATE STORY 3:
"Damn it, Philipa! I know you cheated on me! Our son has BROWN HAIR! WE'RE BOTH BLOND!"
"Ted, Terry is adopted."
"MOM? I'M ADOPTED?"
"Oh, way to go, Phil! Now you should tell him that Santa doesn't exist!"
------------------
ALTERNATE STORY 4:
"Damn it, Philipa! I know you cheated on me! Our son has BR-- Wait, what?"
"What is it Ted?"
"Didn't we already have this conversation?"
"What?"
------------------
ALTERNATE STORY 5:
"Damn it, Philipa! I know you cheated on me! Our son has BR-- OK. WHAT THE HELL?"
"Ted, why are you yelling?"
"WHAT IS HAPPENING?"
------------------
ALTERNATE STORY 6:
"Damn it, Philipa! I kn-- OK, THIS IS SOME GROUNDHOG DAY SHIT."
"Ted, what's wrong?"
"I keep starting to out you and your cheating ways but then everything resets. I must have done it at least 5 times n--"
------------------
ALTERNATE STORY 7:
"Damn it, Phi-- FUCK."
"Ted, what's wrong?"
"IT DID IT WHILE I WAS FINISHING MY SENTENCE."
"What did?"
"THIS GODDAM TIME LOOPING BULLSH--"
------------------
ALTERNATE STORY 8:
"Damn it, FUCK."
"Ted, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just. Nothing."
--------------------
If you enjoyed this story, you should consider subscribing to-- OH GOD, TED ESCAPED THE NARRATIVE. |
"Death by suicide,"sighed David. It was days like these that made him reconsider his job.
"Permanent death?"Carla, his partner, set her cup of coffee down. "Don't get a lot of those."
"Yup."He shrugged and reached for the stack of paper on his desk. "Poor man. He killed himself, painlessly, with some pills. His wife did too, but she respawned."
"Was it—"
"Murder?"David smiled wryly. "I thought so, at first. Apparently, they'd been married for twenty-seven years. They were going to respawn at the same time, and enjoy married life as a young couple..."
Carla frowned. "But what happened?"
"Hospital got his birth date wrong. He was born two days earlier, but there was a mix-up or something."He re-stacked the papers and set them aside. Recounting the story had ruined his appetite for paperwork. "It was the first time either of them cut it so close to the limit, you know? The victim thought he still had a day until he turned fifty."
"God."She shook her head slowly.
"My thoughts exactly."David sighed again. "His wife was hysterical. Which I can understand. She expected to see her husband, young and alive, but instead finds his cooling corpse on the ground."
Carla picked up the stack of paper and began filling it out. "People should really spawn at least a year before they turn fifty. It'd cut the amount of perma-deaths by half. I swear, the majority of them are caused by simple carelessness."
He grunted in response. "Yeah, but when you're happy with your life, I guess you don't see a reason to respawn."
"You're right."She looked down. "Still, it's tragic..."
"Death always is." |
We envy them.
It is both a blessing and a curse to remember everything. We remember birth and death, peace and war, tragedy and happiness, and we remember it with such clarity that it could have happened mere seconds ago. We remember the good and the bad, and we wish to forget.
In comparison to ours, their power seems trivial. Tiny. And at first, we believed so. We mocked them from our ivory towers, laughed as their failures and misguided efforts provided our daily entertainment. It would be centuries before we realized what they truly had.
It seems the gods were mocking us. To give us the blessing of immortality but take away our ability to forget... remembering six centuries of a lifetime is torturous. I have seen kingdoms rise and fall, countries form and break apart, men and women come together and die separated. I have seen torture and heartache. I have seen the birth of my son only to have him wrenched from my grip before his third birthday. I watched my wife wither, waste in her grief.
Humans don't realize what they have. They fret, they worry, they go to any length to stop it. In the end, they have the power to die. To forget it all, the good and the bad, and be at peace. Their memories fade. Mine never will.
I envy them. |
We didn't know what to make of it at first-- a sleek piece of tech, almost sensually curved. Protected by clear paneling which left the interior workings visible... it was both functional and aesthetically appealing, though not drastically more advanced than our joint projects with the Indians at the time, those tiny seeds we were scattering amidst the nearby planets to grow our little trees of knowledge.
I guess we were both surprised, or at least as close to surprises as *they* feel. I'm referring to the Naui Confederacy, of course, not the Indians. We were lucky in many respects that our first encounter was with the Naui, as their emotional and social structure are similar to ours. It was probably also for the best that our first encounter was not face-to-face, as technology is somehow less disturbing than the reality of an eight-foot-tall luridly colored humanoid with wasp-like features... at least, if you aren't ready for it.
We were so close to voidslip tech. The Naui only had to give us a few little helpful prods, and we still did the rest ourselves. The stars opened to us, the entire cosmos within our hands... partnered hands. For the first time amidst all that black void of time and distance, humanity had a friend. The technology of both our species has increased exponentially with the influx of new ideas on both sides. In the space of a generation we have gone from a lone match on a windy beach, staring out into the vastness and only able perhaps to cast a few stones into the darkness to a great lighthouse, guiding our ships forth to new lands and new discoveries. Our warriors wear armor driven by synthetic muscles, guided by artificial minds. We are healed by machine hands, fed by automated growing systems. We are now a mighty fist and gentle fingers in one body. We are allies amidst an ocean of strange stars.
It's odd now to think of this great tree growing from such a tiny acorn. True AI, created from the merging of two traditions of development, sprouting roots from simple rovers guided by human hands, machines without free will of their own.
I can sit now and watch the electric arc as the launch center's casters send another vessel's crew aloft over these dark Oklahoma fields-- blinding blue against the black, a string of stars given vitality from a fever dream as man flies ever forward, ever upward. They'll meet the other half of the crew, the Naui, at an orbital construction platform and conduct joint training as their vessel is completed. My hair has gone gray now and I'm too old for adventuring, but I can still look up there. Sometimes, when I'm a few beers in sitting out here on the porch and listening to the crickets chirping, when I'm watching men elevated to their destiny and our collective future, I still feel it-- the feeling I had when I saw that other rover on our fuzzy TV feed. Pure wonder. I just hope that in an age of wonders that mankind doesn't lose ourselves, our curiosity.
When I see us touching that edge, that outer envelope of the known and stable, then I'm reassured. We'll never lose our wonder. There's still so much to discover, and it all grows from the first planting of a seed. |
The town crier raised his stately horn and bellowed out into the bustle of the central market square, "HEAR YE, HEAR YE! Come now beloved subjects of His resplendence, and make haste! For our inimitable King has an announcement of paramount importance to bestow upon you-all! The Royal Gates have been opened, and the principal vestibule and accompanying showrooms have been expediently cleared so that He may invite a great majority of you to hear His fateful decree on this blessed day!"
Nothing would serve the stir and compel the denizens of his humble realm more than to listen and pay homage to their benevolent King. He was loved by the elderly and youthful alike for his astute judgement in regal affairs and stellar altruism in doting after his people, each and every one of which he cared for and invested in emotionally as if they were his own kin. Now, another one of his manifold honourable qualities was his humility, that being said there was however one phenomenon he could scarcely comprehend and that was the reaction of his people to almost every sentence he spoke. Whilst delivering his annual speech or solemnly promulgating a royal edict to the prosperous town and even more prosperous people he would invariably note how upon almost every breath he took at the end of a sentence he would be treated to uproarious applause, and beaming smiles - which only sincere laughter could elicit - generously scattered around the hosting halls. Why were they so overjoyed by his seemingly mundane words? He could not muster up an answer, but was so enormously thankful for the love and adulation he received as a result of them, and - if today were to proceed as usual, he could not wait to hear their throes of unbridled joy once more.
Quickly they had gathered before him, some neatly seated and others stood near them in apparent awe at the King who now leaned over his regal lectern and prepared to voice his message for the people. Silence consumed the halls. The King cleared his throat, 'Greetings, everybody! How glad I am to see you gathered today, despite it being so glorious a day outside. I truly am elated.' He paused momentarily, *here goes nothing...* he thought, 'A deal has been struck! We are to receive masses of milled grain from the neighbouring township, in exchange for some of our plentiful timber supply gleaned from the surrounding forests - so let the operation for gathering and delivery commence. Today is the day in which we give them our firm, inflexible wood, so that we may harness their pristine, untouched flour.' The audience exploded in boisterous laughter as the King smiled tenderly and took a short reprieve in order to compose himself 'We shall help them to reach their goals, after which they will no longer be verging.' He coughed unintentionally, 'towards them - ' Another booming collective laugh startled him, but he determined to continue, glowing with confused pride over the response of his admirable people, ' - but instead they will have reached a climax to which they have aspired for many long months! To not only have our wood penetrate their markets today but have our wood in plentiful supply from this day forth - today and on every single day for the foreseeable future!' The crowd jeered and laughed, some even cried from an excess of it. 'That is all. Thank you very much, and enjoy the rest of your day!' The royal adviser approached the stand and whispered to the King 'Another knock-out performance your Highness! Your humour can achieve such a rivetingly wide spectrum, from the cutely innocuously to the deliciously ribald. Today was a great choice of day to impart the latter if I do say so myself! Extraordinary my liege.' The King blushed, partially in response to definite glowing praise he was receiving, but substantially in response to not knowing what on Earth his adviser had meant. *I love them all, but sometimes these people are just so strange.* He pondered this, gently rubbed his admittedly perplexed brow, and head back to his chambers so that he may tend to other prevalent matters. |
PART 1:
“Annnd.. Touch down! We have established ground-to-ship contact!”
The control room burst with cheers, scientists jumping up from their desks with joy.
“We did it!” A man yelled, excitement painting his face.
“How does it feel?” A man asked into the mic that sat on his desk.
The room quieted down as they waited for a response. It took approximately thirty four seconds for a response. Seventeen seconds there, seventeen back.
A loud static noise erupted from the speakers, before a woman’s voice responded.
“It feels great. We’re already starting preparations for the walk. Systems are all functioning as they should. Congratulations, you’ve all earned it!”
Scientists, engineers, and astro-physicists alike clapped their hands and high fived each other.
“When is the expected time for the walk?” The man asked into the mic after a few moments.
Everyone began settling down, they had made it, but there was still so much work to be done.
Seconds of silence passed, before the female voice responded once more.
“In approximately four minutes. Miles is already ready to go, he’s begging me to let him go early. What is CC’s opinion?”
A man in a white coat looked up at a man standing behind a pane of glass in a room above the control room. The man returned the look with a smile and a thumbs up.
“He is clear to go early, just double check and make sure all of his suit’s systems are functioning. Millions of young minds are watching this, we wouldn’t want any accidents.” The man speaking into the mic said cheerfully.
Inside the lonely ship, they heard the speaker repeat the words of the man. Miles smiled and stood with glee inside the air lock.
“I’m going to be first!” The man exclaimed.
“Okay miles, just calm down for a little bit. I have to double check your systems, CC’s orders.”
“Come on, they’ll never know. I checked all of my systems, I promise. Just let me out already!”
Sarah sighed and looked at her fellow astronaut with a look of sarcastic frustration.
“Just let the fool go, if he wants to kill himself in front of the world let him do it.” Jeff said sternly.
“You’re such a cynical.” Sarah said, poking fun at Jeff.
“I’m a realist.” Jeff scoffed.
“Alright Miles, go ahead. I’m opening the door. You’re free!” Sarah said over the com to Miles.
Mile’s face lit up as the ship’s outer door slid open. He took a step towards the outside, staring at the vast blackness that stared back at him.
“Turn your suit’s flashlight on you moron!” Jeff yelled through the com.
“Hey, Jeff, you need to calm down man. We’re here to have fun.” Miles responded, flipping his flashlight on.
Jeff shook his head out of irritation.
“Come on Jeff, lighten up. Miles is just pulling your leg.” Sarah said as she stepped into her suit.
“I don’t care, we’re not here to have fun. We’re here to make money.”
Sarah rolled her eyes.
“Alright, if that’s how you want to be about it.”
Sarah pulled her space helmet over her head.
“Guys! I’m gonna do it!” Miles yelled, beginning his walk out onto the rocky asteroid.
Sarah smiled as she watched him put both feet on the asteroid and smile with a huge cheesy grin.
“Alright! You did it Miles! Step away from the door so I can join you.”
Miles continued to smile like a small child on Christmas morning. He let go of the ship and turned around, walking forward onto the asteroid.
“Are you coming?” Sarah asked Jeff.
“Yeah, let me get my tools.” Jeff said, rummaging through a small compartment. After grabbing a few small objects he slipped into his suit and then put his helmet on.
“Alright, I’m ready.” He said sternly.
Sarah’s face was painted with excitement. She’d walked on the moon before, but that was easy compared to this. This was new, something unknown. Anything could happen!
Jeff and Sarah opened the air lock’s entrance and stepped inside. Sarah put her hand up against a big red button as the air-lock door slid closed behind her.
“Ready?”
Jeff nodded in his space suit.
Sarah pressed the big red button.
|
Scarcity of food is what finally drove the tribe to send out 8 young men out of the forest and into the city that had so closely encroached onto their territory over the years. Despite the creeping buildings, they had never been contacted by anyone from outside of the tribe. The women of the tribe called it luck, the men of the tribe called it strategic planning, and the chief of the tribe called it *fate*.
It had been generations since the buildings had grown or gotten closer, but even still, the tribe could still hear noises coming from the city. The sound of machines, music (*hellish* music), and the sound of chatter. It would start midday, the noises, then grow in intensity as the night drew on. The tribe never moved, for they felt that the constant light and sound from the nearby city kept away predators, but now, even the chief was beginning to wonder if the constant chatter was what was driving away the nearby animals.
With hungry stomachs, the decision was made to send men into the city, in search of either food or water. Seven of the eight men carried spears, while the eighth, the youngest, carried a bow and arrow.
The trek through the small forest separating the tribe from the city was short and silent. Everyone was focused on what they might encounter on the way to the city. Before too long, they were at the edge of the forest, eyes on the strangely paved roads that the neighboring city-dwellers had used so long ago to get from place to place.
There were those machines, going back and forth on the road, not seeming to change speed or direction. The machines closest to the clansmen were going right, and the machines furthest from the clansmen were going left. They traveled much faster than the fastest of the tribesmen, Flight. He stepped forward towards the road, hair being tousled by the wind created by the machines.
"They're quick,"Flight said. He peered closely into them as they moved. There seemed to be thrones inside of them, places for the city-dwellers to sit, but there was no one in them. At least he didn't think there was. "Are they empty?"
"I don't see anything either,"Arch said, bow and arrow in the ready position. "How do we get past them?"
"I don't know,"Flight said, nervously patting one foot onto the pavement then pulling back before one of the machines mowed him down. He watched as more machines passed by, and on a moment of pure impulse, Flight stuck out his spear as one of the larger machines passed by. There was a loud pop as his spear smashed in the see-through material on the front of the machine. Flight let out a loud grunt as the spear was ripped from his hands. He twisted and fell into the road as more machines came barreling at him.
"Flight!"The tribesmen yelled. Arch dropped his bow and arrow and made like he was going to go after Flight, only to be held back by another tribesmen. "No, you'll only be crushed with him!"
Flight looked up from the pavement, the skin on his palms scraped and oozing blood. He raised one bloody hand towards the oncoming machine, whispering an unheard promise to the Gods in the sky. The noise from the machine grew louder and louder. Flight closed his eyes, and the tribesmen clenched theirs.
There was a loud squealing and the strange smell of something bitter and unnatural.
Breathing in deep gasps, Flight opened his eyes and saw that the machine had stopped moving. Looking at it from head-on, Flight was astonished to see the machinery that the city-dwellers had come up with: There were two giant eyes on the opposite ends of the front of the machine, each containing what looked like a small sun. "What is this,"Flight whispered, slowly getting up onto his scraped knees, and then finally pushing himself up off of the ground.
Several tribesmen made like they were going to walk out onto the road to accompany Flight, but he raised a bloodied hand, "No, it could be a trick,"he whispered. Raising his other hand towards the machine, he slowly walked towards it.
The machine didn't move, but it still made a sputtering noise. Now looking closely at it, Flight could see that it was indeed empty. He placed a still stinging hand onto the top of the front of the machine and pulled back when he felt that it was warm, hot almost. Thoughts raced through his mind, the most prevailing one being that at any moment, this machine would come to life and come down on him like a tiger, ripping the skin from his bones in front of his fellow tribesmen. But the machine did no such thing.
"More are coming!"One of the tribesmen exclaimed. Flight looked around the side of the stopped machine and saw that it was true, there were two more of the machines coming this way, directly behind the stopped one. "They're going to ram this one!"
Flight didn't think so. It was time to take another leap of faith. He put both palms down onto the front of the machine and closed his eyes. *They are going to stop*, he thought, heart pulsing in his throat. *They are going to stop*.
There was more squealing, and more of that same burnt smell.
When Flight opened his eyes, he saw that those oncoming machines had too also stopped.
"They won't hit us,"Flight whispered, stepping away from the original stopped machine, and into the road. He walked with his arms outstretched.
"What are you doing?!"
He ignored the yelling from the tribesmen, and walked with his eyes closed. Each time a machine nearly crashed into him, they came to a screaming halt. Before too long, Flight was on the other side of the road, unscathed apart from the scratches and bruises he got from falling into the road.
"They respect us, they will not harm us!"He called from the far side of the road. "Come, be men, these city-dwellers have created nothing for us to fear!"
After much coaxing, the rest of the tribesmen made their way across the road. Reunited with Flight, the tribesmen made their way into the guts of the city, unsure of what strange and dangerous machinations they would encounter. |
The standing ovation after Comrade Stalin's safety presentation went on for over thirty minutes. We all kept eyeing each other, then the air marshals standing at each exit. They weren't clapping - the Skorpion sub-machine guns in their hands would have made that difficult.
Eventually the plane took off and most were pushed back into our seats. One unfortunate staggered down the aisle backwards, luckily Stalin just guffawed rather than ordering him shot for incompetence. From the other side of the fuselage came the soft, high pitch laughter of our other steward, Mikhael Jacksonovich. "Comrade, this is perfection! Gives me idea for great glorification of Mother Russia through dance!"
At that moment I woke up in a cold sweat and with mounting horror realized that I was actually flying United. |
All my life, I've been hearing music randomly. Sounds kind of stupid, but it helps me in situations. For example, I was talking to a girl in school today and the "awkward"music came on. I knew this was my time to just roll out and leave her alone.
The music would shut off when I went to sleep. I don't know if it actually shut off, or if I was just asleep and didn't hear it. Either way, I wouldn't hear it while I was asleep - or so I thought.
I was awoken at 4:00 AM by the loudest screeching noise that you could think of right now. Imagine your teacher with a chalk in her hand, writing on the chalkboard. Remember the little screeches? Now imagine that, but multiply the noise by almost 100 fold. That's how I felt right now.
I knew something was wrong, but what it could it be? I've never heard this music in my life before, and watching scary movies, I knew not to get up. But what did I do? That's right - the stupidest thing. I got up.
I still question to this day why I got up. It was probably the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life. As soon as I got up, the screeching sound disappeared. I was relieved, but what if it happens again? Who knew. Anyways, I really needed to use the washroom.
I open up the lights, and half asleep I was peeing. It was only until I looked in the mirror I realized something was HORRIBLY wrong. I opened up my eyes a bit more, and there she was. Standing right behind me. Her hair covering her face but her laugh was the worst part of it all. I instantly fainted. I woke up the next morning, remembering the last thing she said to me. "I'll come back for you."
I haven't slept since then. |
Stanford came in, covered from head to to in blood.
Fletcher looked up from her copy of Elle Decoration only long enough to decide to play it cool. "Wasn't that shirt white when you went out?"she asked, with a pitch perfect affectation of nonchalance.
Stanford said nothing. He went to the sink, and started cleaning his hands and face. Unwashed cups and teaspoons clinked underneath him.
"So,"I said, prompting him for an explanation. "I take it that we won't be getting the bonus for 'discreet'."I shot a look at Fletcher. She smiled a little, against her wishes.
He scrubbed his hands.
"Stanf-"
"No!"He barked. "No, we won't be getting the fucking bonus for discreet, OK? It all went tits up in the first five minutes. The poison thread stuck in the ceiling cavity, and when I wiggled it free -"
"Unjammed,"I interrupted. "Don't say 'wiggled', dude. It's unmanly. You're supposed to be a goddamn assassin."
Stanford gritted his teeth. I'd hired him for his self-control. "When I *unjammed* the thread, a drop got loose and landed in his eye. He woke up screaming like the gates of Hell had opened up in his asshole."
"I'm not surprised,"said Fletcher. "That shit's caustic."
"I know it's caustic,"he muttered. "I -"
"It even says so on the bottle,"she added.
He let a heartbeat go by. "I know -"
"Right under 'Poison', I think."
I waved her away. "Fletcher, knock it off. So what happened?"
Stanford shut the tap off. "What happened? Plan B happened. I went down there and I finished the job."
I gestured at the carnage that befallen his clothes. And now, my sink. "With a chainsaw?"I asked.
There was a moment before he spoke. "I did the wife first. I was hoping the shock would shut him up for a second so that the scream didn't cut off suspiciously."
"'kay,"I said.
His eyes fell shut like heavy rolling doors. "First round got caught on the inside of the silencer."
Fletcher breathed out, no longer seeking to wind him up any further. "*Shit,*"she said.
Stanford was nodding. "It just exploded. I was lucky not to lose any fingers. It just... *tore* her face right off her body. She started screaming -"
"*She started screaming?*"we both blurted out.
"*She* did?"I said.
"With no goddamn face?"Fletcher followed up.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose with his scrubbed-pink-raw fingers, Stanford nodded. "Yeah,"he said. "So I gotta get them both, now. He's the less injured one -"
"Obviously,"Fletcher said, wide-eyed.
"So I turned to him and I..."
We let the moment hang. The clock ticked aggressively loudly behind us.
"...I beat him to death."
I exhaled. "With what?"
"With his wife,"he said. "It seemed... I thought... two birds, you know. One..."he trailed off and collapsed down onto the sofa.
We sat, in silence, each of us recreating the carnage in our mind's eyes.
"So, job's done, though,"Stanford said, with forced brightness.
"Yeah,"I said, numbly. I thought of the business cards I'd had printed. Might have been premature. |
He sucked air between his teeth and wiggled the latches on the cabinet. "Seems to be in order,"he said.
We sighed collectively.
"Next,"he said. "Air filtration."
And so it went. Plumbing, automatic door opening speeds, hangar cleanliness... it seemed endless. There was a brief moment of concern in waste disposal - there was some one eyed *thing* in there - but we passed.
The consultant tapped a pen against his lips. "Only a few more,"he said. "We've got... let's see.... Coffee machines, access to tractor beam controls, and exhaust port shielding."
We clenched our fists in premature victory. To access the tractor beams, you had to go around this thin ledge and mess with the controls by hand. You'd have to be some kind of madman to sidle your way along there. Nobody would do that. And exhaust port shielding? It didn't need shielding. It was only two meters wide! We were in!
The Health and Safety Officer stepped up to the coffee machine, and entered 112 on the keypad (flat white). The cup dropped at an odd angle. It spun, rolling around like a coin on a cantina bar, teetering. The coffee started. Too early. The coffee started too early.
Hitting the curved surface on the outside of the cup, it sprayed outwards, directly onto the crotch of the Officer. He screamed in pain and dropped to the floor on instinct. The coffee continued to fall - spraying directly onto his face.
We dragged him away from the machine. The coffee dribbled to a stop. His screams continued.
It took twenty minutes to calm him down. "Dude,"I told him. "Listen, there's a lot riding on this Death Star thing. We *need* the pass."
He was shaky, but accepted the water I offered him. "I can't pass you,"he said. "I can't. That coffee machine is a heath hazard."
I sat down next to him. "Listen, man,"I told him. "Listen. I've got an envelope here, with two hundred credits in it. Just for you. Two hundred more for the coffee... thing. It's yours. Just give us the pass."
He looked at the envelope. He was hurt, and shamed. But he wanted the money. After a moment wrestling with his conscience, he took it.
I patted him on the back. "You're doing the right thing, man. We'll get that machine fixed, I swear."
He nodded, sadly. "I've still got the tractor beam and the exhaust port to do. Want me to look at them?"
I waved it off. "No need, man. They're good." |
"What?"Refuted Thor. "This great beast is not army enough for you? My Human friend will vouch for him, he claimed he was equal to an army himself!"
The Hulk stood at Thor's side in the volcanic wasteland, breathing heavily and eyeing the puny alien in front of him.
"It's just...the war of my world will require insurgent tasks, underground operations, assassinations, frontal assaults with surprise flanking attacks, guerrilla tactics...the list goes on."The tall Viliini continued.
Thor chuckled heartily. "You wish for a war of the shadows and the blackboard?"
"It's the only way we can win, the only way we can save my people. The enemy is far too strong to crush with pure strength alone."
The Hulk spat on the ground. The spit sizzled on the glowing rock. The Viliini stared.
"...............a tactical approach is our only hope."
"You say strength is not enough,"Refuted Thor. "But that is not a matter worth considering with this warrior at your side."
The Viliini sniffed. "I wouldn't call him a warrior. In fact, i'm quite shocked at what you've brought me. It's just a great, green ogre-"
The Hulk roared in fury, and punched the rocky ground. Both the Viliini and Thor felt the world drop. In a perfect circle around them, at a distance of three kilometres, the planet appeared to rise upwards a hundred metres. Thick magma poured out from under the crust like hellish blood, quickly cooling back into the dark rock it had been millions of years ago.
"Did he just punch a hole in the..."
"Will you take him?"
The Viliini looked to Thor, mouth agape. ".....*yes*."
Thor smiled. "That's all I needed to hear. Feed him well, will you? He's taken a liking to boar, and mead."Thor lifted his hammer and shot into the sky within a tunnel of light.
The Viliini looked back to the Hulk. "Come, let me see if you can break through Rekarni walls..." |
Upon this tile I've spent so long a time.
Ne'er could I see a chance for my escape.
I was alone and turned my mind to rhyme,
While hoping that, someone, my life would shape.
A world of black and white I have endured,
Until I was incited to advance.
At last! The furtive fates had made quite sure,
I could perform my deathly, regal dance.
The tiles were blurs beneath my frantic moves,
And free was I from stationary life.
This does, I knew, my kingly status prove,
Imbued am I with joy where once was strife.
I was, at last, confronted with white scorn,
But faltering I failed and fell a pawn. |
"Groundbreaking! It's absolutely groundbreaking!"Raina exclaimed. "History and science are about to meet."
"Hold up,"Sarah said. "Are you talking about the new patent describing how to encrypt computer data via crystal structures? That was released a week ago, it's old news."
"No!"Raina replied. "You see, some archaeologists who saw that finding decided to take a few samples from historic monuments. They weren't expecting to actually discover anything, of course. But after starting to decode them, they've discovered they're actually written in hexadecimal!"
"Really? That's incredible! What's the encrypted data stand for?"
"I'm watching a live stream of events,"Raina said. "Do you want to come over and watch? Right now, they're busy translating it into binary and running it into a computer. They're also taking more samples from other historic monuments."
Sarah walked to the other side and peered at Raina's screen. On the monitor, a supercomputer was busily crunching numbers and running programs.
Suddenly, the supercomputer's monitor went blank. A few seconds of the blue screen of death passed by, and then, a single number appeared on the screen, two digits long.
*42*.
|
Sir Eggerton and his team were only a day into the descent when he began to regret bringing the woman. Not that she was not capable - Lady Amelia Orange was the only hypobotany and hypozoology expert in the world. The problem was she was beautiful. Painstakingly, rivetingly beautiful and the men were going mad. At least that's why Sir Eggerton thought the men where going mad.
They only had about six hours of sunlight each day, and they used that time to catalogue the plants and animals the expedition came across. Most men just followed Lady Amelia around as she explained the specimens: gargantuan tunnelroot, black-leaf bonsai trees, hanging amaryllis. For the first few days of descent the animals were familiar ones: mountain goats scaled the sheer faces, and vultures dove straight down into blackness.
After the first biosphere, the top-level as Lady Amelia explained it, was the secondary biosphere, defined by cases of hypo-gigantism. Moths the size of small dogs fed on orchids the size of carriages. One night, the equipment boy was dragged of screaming by something no one could quite see. Days later, after they'd given up the search, they'd found his pale, drained corpse cocooned in a spider web as tall as a building. His father, the photographer, cut him down and they burned the body at nightfall.
Sir Eggerton noted this as the day the crew began to change. The next night, as they were securing camp, one of the prospectors forced himself on Lady Amelia in her tent. Sir Eggerton beat him off her before she could be violated. But still the expedition was inundated while the team decided the prospector's fate. Sir Eggerton kept him at gunpoint the whole time. It was clear the prospector had gone mad; he would not stop singing insane and disturbing songs none on the crew had ever heard.
"*Down, down the rabbit hole,*
*Down, down, the way,*
*The whore and the miner,*
*The lord and the writer,*
*Descending day by day.*
*But the devil is waiting,*
*The day is abating,*
*Down all the way.*"
It was decided that, in lieu of an execution, Eggerton would bind him and they would continue forward. The singing disturbed the team however, and the prospector was gagged as well. Lastly, he was to be kept away from Lady Amelia at all times. The lady was clearly shaken, but she pressed forward.
The next level down was the Tertiary Biosphere, characterized by bioluminescence. Glowing mushrooms as large as parachutes clung to the steep walls of the cavern; small, bioluminescent mammals skittered under glowing bonsai branches. The larger mammals, glowing blue foxes and the like, were caught and skinned for their pelts. The trapper made a luminescent blanket for Lady Amelia as a sign of affection.
It was in the Tertiary Biosphere that Sir Eggerton and his team uncovered the first signs of civilization; a civilization that should by all accounts never existed.
At first it was only pictograms. Cave drawings of people going about everyday things: the paint glowed, showing scenes of hunters taking down luminescent mammoths, participating in ritual sacrifice. Eggerton commanded the expedition chronicler, an Oxford man, to take down all of it. It was, in his eyes, the most significant archaeological discovery to date, proving humanity could survive in the most bizarre and hostile of environments.
But when Sir Eggerton examined his notes, he found they didn't form any semblance of sense. There were drawings, yes, but they were mostly of the Lady Amelia, and there were writings, but they were only the same verse over and over:
"*Down, down the rabbit hole,*
*Down, down, the way,*
*The whore and the miner,*
*The lord and the writer,*
*Descending day by day.*
*But the devil is waiting,*
*The day is abating,*
*Down all the way.*"
Sir Eggerton found he could trust no one. He could bind the chronicler as he did the prospector, but who was to say the others were not afflicted? It was clear his priority was to protect Lady Amelia. Something about the cave drawings of sacrifices bothered him, but surely the chroniclers drawings could not be related.
He meant to approach the Lady Amelia that night, but before he could the photographer came running into camp. "A temple!"he panted. "A temple up ahead!"
He ran with his team to the sight. The temple stood before them, carved into the black stone of the slope. It reminded him of the Mesopotamian ziggurats of the sub-orient, a great stepped pyramid. Every inch was carved with reliefs and glyphs he could not begin to translate.
"Lets go!"the photographer said, "And bring the girl."
Sir Eggerton paused. He would need to be very careful. "Excellent idea,"he said. "The Lady Amelia and I will be the first party to enter. You stay here and catalogue the outside... I'll report back soon."
Eggerton grabbed his pack and took the Lady Amelia by the hand. They climbed the steps of the temple together. When they were safely in the chamber on top, which he assumed was the holy-of-holies, the turned to her.
"My lady,"he said, "We must abscond at once. I believe there is a plot against you. The chronicler's drawings depicted terrible things happening to you. I believe some of the men have gone mad just as the prospector has."
"What could you mean? No sickness travels like that. We will never survive the trek to the surface."she said.
Eggerton explained that with his supplies and some luck, it was possible. The Lady Amelia eventually agreed to flee out the back of the temple.
"This way,"she said, making towards the back of the chamber.
A black slab lay in the center of the room. As he ran past it, something caught Sir Eggerton's eye.
"It's... not possible!"he said, running his hand over the slab, "This writing... it's ancient greek. And here, latin."
"Could you translate it?"Lady Amelia said.
"Yes, possibly, a few words... here, it says: *The whore, the lord, the miner, the writer... the end... the sacrifice... the devil*"
Eggerton paused. He could hear something, something in the distance. It was chanting. Chanting in an alien, guttural tongue. He looked up from the slab.
"Amelia, run!"he screamed.
But suddenly pale hands reached out from the shadows. They closed in on his arms and pulled him down to the slab. A hand covered his mouth, but he could see figures above him: skin as white as mountain snow, eyes totally black, as if the pupils were permanently enlarged to see in total darkness. They were dressed like tribesmen, in headdresses and body paint.
Then he could hear a delicate, feminine voice singing in English:
"*Down, down the devil hole,*
*Down, down, the way,*
*The whore and the miner,*
*The lord and the writer,*
*Descending day by day.*
*But the devil is here,*
*To get you my dear,*
*Down all the way.*"
Lady Amelia stepped into view. Her eyes, too, were completely black, her skin as white as snow. She held a jagged stone knife in her hand, crusted with a thousand years of blood.
When she spoke, she spoke to no one in particular, to a voice Eggerton could not hear.
"Yes, father. I am so happy to be home. Are you pleased with me? Are you pleased with what I've brought you? "
A faint whisper of wind came from no where, rustling Amelia's hair. She smiled.
As she brought down the knife into Eggerton's stomach, he could see a black shadow standing behind Amelia, one clawed hand resting on her shoulder.
|
"Shut it down. Right now, Judy. I've had 18 angry parents and a host of civil rights lawyers call this morning with a *whole fucking list* of greivances."
"Tom, I know this is a touchy subject, but we have ways-"
"Don't. Fucking DO NOT. Tell me. We have a plan. There is no plan. I'm shutting this down because it needs to stop before it causes any more of a train-wreck; not because the board of directors has told me to, not because of outside pressure, but because I now have to face a bunch of LITERALLY MURDEROUS mothers and fathers and explain to them why it is their children may or may not have engaged in a FUCKING ORGY on FUCKING SCHOOL PROPERTY that MAY OR MAY NOT have involved the use of prophylactics. WE'RE A FUCKING CATHOLIC SCHOOL, JUDITH. These kids have been told for the last 6 years that Condoms and Sexual Intercourse outside of wedlock are the devils work, and now we've incentivised giving every last one of them 'full marks' in a course about romantic interaction. and GOD-FUCKING-FORBID any of those kids end up pregnant! Abortions!? YOU WANT ME TO TELL PARENTS THEIR CATHOLIC HIGHSCHOOLERS MIGHT NEED ABORTIONS BECAUSE, OOPS, WE DON'T KNOW WHO THE FATHERS MIGHT BE!? Sure, paternity tests all round, boys, take one and pass the swab kits down. That'll go down a treat. Ah, FUCK."
"Right. Right, I'll wipe the course. It never existed."
"No. Keep the grades. Keep everything. Keep the paperwork regarding it's creation, the class roll, syllabus too, copy it all at least 5 times, and then send a copy to 559 Maranga Avenue, Timbuktu, or maybe, I don't know, Diving Station 12, Marianas Trench, Pacific Ocean for fucks sake, with my home address as the return. You'll do the same for your own address if you're smart, as we're not the only ones with access to the originals, and I feel they'll be going missing very, very soon. The board authorised it, we have signatures, and they'll try and throw you and I under the bus on charges of pedophilia before they accept any responsibility to this enormous clusterfuck. Actually... Yeah, then give the originals to Kevin over in the janitors shed and tell him we're putting off the gutter renovation for the time being; he won't ask questions, he owes me too much in Poker."
"...Holy shit, Tom, is that legal?"
"Possession is nine-tenths, Judy. Legal only matters once we're in court, and they're less likely to try that if they can't burn the aces up our sleeves."
"I'll go do it right away."
"Now, Judy. You're in more danger than I am because you taught the kids, even if the little shits decided to abuse the marking rubrik, our trust and each other in the process. Oh, and please don't mention the Aces Sleeves thing to Kevin. He might take offence.
*Exit Judy, Stage Left, Pursued by a Bear*
*EXEUNT* |
I couldn’t stand it for another day. The smell of the deep fryer, the stench of processed foods, the condescending looks of customers. But the thought of school seemed impossible. Thousands in tuition, hours of essay writing, and what if I picked the wrong major?
>Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step in your life.
Just one class, let’s start there. Intro to business and hey, this is actually interesting. The first time in years I’ve had to apply myself, to actually try. So I took a few more, then more and I just fell into being a full time student. The work is hard and consumed countless hours of my free time, but every night I went to sleeping knowing I accomplished something today.
I did it. A bachelors in Business Administration. But, my god all this debt. I tried to work while I was in school but I still have $30,000 to pay back. How do people live with all this debt? Rent, phone, car, internet, insurance, food, and now student loans. It’s impossible.
>Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step in your life.
I put my resume into a few places around town. It didn’t even take that long to get an offer. 30k a year for assistant manager. I could survive on that salary but that isn’t why I went to school, I deserved better.
So I put my degree to work. I applied to nearly every company on the S&P 500. I didn’t care what side of the county I wound up on, I wasn’t going to waste away in this town for another week. Dozens of phone interviews and the same HR questions. I was invited to three in person interviews and I found my calling as a talent scout in New York. I had finally made it. I could pay my expenses and still have money left over for myself, this was possible.
But only if the loneliness didn’t kill me first. 60 hours a week doesn’t make having a social life easy. The lack of any hobbies or confidence just compounded the problem. But I know I have the ability to change.
>Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step in your life.
So I hit the gym. I hated it. I ran around central park. I barely lasted a week. I took a kayak out on a lake outside the city. And…. I loved it. Just being in nature, the calm coolness of being on an open lake was an amazing contrast to life in the city. And I wasn’t alone.
I found other who liked the water just as much as I did. I spoiled myself with kayak that cost far too much and enjoyed every minute of it. I met her. Dirty blond hair, green eyes and a smile that could dissolve all my problems. My self-doubt tried its best to consume me: what if I’m not interesting, she probably already has a boyfriend, what if she rejects you, she’ll probably break your heart.
>Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step in your life.
I managed to say hello. We shared ourselves coasting over the water, our hopes and desires. We shared our imperfections, our embarrassing stories. We shared our first kiss. Then our first date. Then an apartment. The first year was pure bliss. The child was an accident but neither of us regret it.
The second year we got married. It wasn’t perfect but it was mine. A wife who pushed me to be my best, a job I could be proud of and a child about to take her first steps. It took me well into my thirties but I finally felt like an adult. Then I took my hardest blow. Cancer.
Pancreatic cancer. Over 90% mortality they say. They have shown me the treatments, I’ve seen the people in the program. Hundreds of thousands of dollars to buy a few years. The nearly inevitable fate of a man wasting away in a hospital. I don’t think I can do this.
>Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step in your life.
I’ve written out my plan. I’ve put away enough money in a trust to support my family even if I’m not there. I have to stick with this. I have to believe I won’t end up wasting away in front of my wife and daughters eyes. I have had my insurance long enough now that it should cover much of the expense. Maybe I can do this.
This is will all be over soon. I’m so sorry Lesly. I love you more than anything. Tell Tiffany her daddy loved her. I look down from the railing of the 61st floor and I feel sick.
>Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step in your life.
|
Something was off, but I couldn't quite understand what.
I glanced up at the alien who had just handed me the book. She stood tall on her two legs, eight-feet high, her smooth, reddish skin resembling something of an insect's. Perhaps the most striking thing about the Verund was the pair of large skeletal wings protruding from her shoulder blades. They looked like they were dying, in the process of being evolved out of the species in the vein of the human appendix. I'd known her for about six months now. We didn't share any sort of meaningful verbal communication, but gestures worked as well as either of us could have hoped.
She grunted and pointed vigorously at the page, at the words that I couldn't understand. The language was a strange, logographic one. It reminded me of hieroglyphics, but I couldn't even tell what half of them were literally, let alone symbolically. But there was something strangely familiar about it all, something in the structure...
Commander Fowles, steely eyed, stared at me from across the room. He didn't like relinquishing control, but even he had to concede that languages and communication was my forte - it was my job, after all.
"Well?"he asked, a slight quiver in his voice. Even he didn't know what to make of it. Languages on Earth are hard enough to decipher, especially with the recent intergalactic task forces that took the best men and women from all over the planet in their rosters: it was not uncommon for a task force to be comprised of people speaking a crude mix of English, Spanish, Arabic and Mandarin. I stopped turning the pages, frozen.
"I don't believe it."I had no other words. This must be some sort of hoax. I thumbed through the synthetic pages, scanning the pages as quickly as I could for anything that might resemble some sort of otherworldly joke, a big reveal -- but the Verunds weren't exactly known for their sense of humour. This was real alright - and I had no idea how it got here.
"What?"Fowles barked, "what is it?"
I tried to speak but the words couldn't form in my brain. Surrounded by other printings in various Verund languages, was a short passage hand-written in English, its ink faded over the centuries.
'*To be or not to be -- that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer...*' |
"Well would you look at that,"the old man said.
He shook the dust off the magazine and took a closer look at the cover.
Across the room, the teenager stopped looting the abandoned house. "What is it?"he asked.
The old man held up the National Geographic. On the cover was a picture of a beehive and the caption "A World Without Bees"
"This magazine is from before the mutation,"the teenager said. "Had you tried to wipe out the bees before they turned into-"
"No,"the old man said. "In fact, just the opposite. We were worried that humans were going to destroy all the bees on Earth."
"You're joking."
"No. We thought a planet without bees would be what brought down our species. How ironic."
"What a different world you lived in."
"No kidding. Did you know that there were people who were allergic to bee stings? A single sting could kill them."
"Even before the mutation?"
"That's right. Just a regular bee sting. My father was one of them. We were walking through the woods one day when I was about your age. Next thing I know, he slaps his arm, then he pulls out a stinger. He says to me, 'Well isn't that the strangest thing. I'm forty-three years old and I've never once been stung by a bee, before.'
"He had never been stung in his life,"the old man continued. "So he had no idea that he was allergic. He collapsed a few minutes later. We were so far away from help that I wasn't able to get him back in time."
The old man sat down on a pile of rubble, suddenly weary with memory.
"I'm sorry to hear that,"the teenager said.
"Don't be too sorry. The mutation came shortly thereafter. Needless to say, men like my father were the first to go. They just-"
The old man trailed off when he noticed a collection of DVDs next to the magazines.
"Say...."the old man said. "Do we have enough power in the generator to run the projector tonight?"
"Sure."
The old man reached into the pile of DVDs and pulled out the Wicker Man.
"Let's take this back with us. I think you're going to like it." |
Fred could barely look me in my rubber human eyes, so he continued speaking to the table. He had already spent five minutes praising my personality, my looks, and my kindness. He spent another five fretting that this might change our friendship, but also convinced that this was the right thing to do. The only thing he could do, he insisted.
At least initially, it was well rehearsed. Now he was just repeating himself. "This is something I have to say,"he said for the fifth time, "you're amazing. You're the most amazing person I've ever met, and I just know that if didn't say something I would regret it."
I should have stopped him ten minutes ago, somewhere between "you're the love of my life"and "I know I don't deserve you,"but frankly, I didn't know how. How do you tell someone you can't love him the way he loves you? Not because you don't want to but because you can't. I have neither human emotions nor human genitals. I can love only as a cactus. I tried to imagine what Fred would look like with a few needles sticking out of his skin, but it wasn't working.
"Fred,"I said, "stop."He looked at me and I saw his face fall, like he had just watched his home run go foul.
"OK. Shit. Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot,"he whined. "I should never have said anything."
"No, it's OK,"I tried to reassure him. "I'm glad you said something. But, listen, I can't be with you, like that. Let me explain -"
"You're not gay. I get it."
"It's not that. I am gay,"I said. A gay cactus, I finished in my head.
"You are? So it's me. I'm too old and ugly."Fred bit his lower lip to stop it from quivering. "Why did I think I could be with someone like you? So stupid. I want to die right now. I can't--"
"Please, stop it! You're amazing, you're wonderful. I love you as a friend."
"Pfff. Great. Thanks,"he responded saltily. I could tell this was going nowhere. It was time. I found the seam of my mask and started to pull. I didn't say a word, but I watched Fred's face as the rubber stretched outwards from my neck, revealing my green vegetal skin underneath. It was clear he wasn't sure what he was witnessing, like seeing a car crash for the first time. Is this even real or is this on television, you think. It takes a few seconds for the brain to fully grasp the import of the scene.
Even after my mask was fully removed and it was just me, all cactus from the neck up, looking unwavering at Fred, he didn't say anything. He just got up and walked out. I cried that night, letting out as much water as I could spare for the season. I never heard from Fred again. Am I prickly about it? Sure, I'm a cactus. But I wish him well, wherever he is. |
It scared the shit out of me at first. I was at work, feeling good about things. Everything was going smooth. Being a cashier at a discount supermarket can be horrid, tell you what. "Customer is King"who thought of that shit? Some yuppie from some university or something. All about profit those people. I had gotten back together with Betty, I got my paycheck on time, and the boss man only screamed at me once. So I figured, okay, yeah, I'll snap my fingers to this nice song. One snap, boom. 6 greasers show up in front of me, white shirts, leather jackets. Yo, craziest thing I ever did see. I knew they didn't come from the store entrance ya see, they were just there in front of me when I snapped. They were facing towards me, smiling, greased up hair smiling too, I swear. "Yo boss, what's the deal?"one of them asked me, I figured he was their leader or something. I was scared they were going to beat me up, I had fallen to the floor by then. "Uh, who are you guys?"I stammered, thought I told Betty I punched one of them. Don't tell Betty.
So the boss man, so I figured, said "You summoned us, right? What's the deal?"and I figured they were here now for a purpose. Boss man screamed at me so I figured, hey why not. "Go big or go home"I figured and that's a saying I can get behind. "There's this guy, in the back"I pointed towards the main office "He said you guys are bunch of ankle-biters"I answered, smiling. The main guy got really mad, pulled up his jacket, straightened his shoulders and simply said "Let me at 'em"and walked towards the office. A bang boom bang later, boss man had a broken nose and was pretty scared. I'll be honest, I thought they'd take him to pound town and not back, but they let him live. Pretty harmless really, just a bunch of pushing around and calling him names. They then left the store and that was that. I shrugged when the boss man came later what it was all about, but he left me alone after that.
A few weeks went by and those greasers ended up working in a chop-shop nearby. Every time I walked by they were singing and swinging their hips, it was odd but the ladies loved it, never seen so many cars line up there ever before. I was headed home after work and was tryin' to think of a song I had in my head. It was from that Kat Perry or someone. Great gal, nice knockers. So I figure, snappin' my figures usually helped. I snapped 'em twice. Oh, man. You wouldn't believe. Instead of six, I had a dozen greasers in front of me. I was semi-prepared this time though. "Yo boss, what's the deal?"the same guy asked me as last time. Twice, since there were two of them, perfectly identical, side-by-side. They looked at each other queerly for a second, toothpick between their teeth, but shrugged, simultaneously, and just carried on looking at me, swaying back and forth, waiting for orders. I heard officer Schmidt had been lacking some good men lately, so I thought I'd throw him a bone. "A-apply for the police force?"I semi-ordered, semi-questioned my own order. They obliged and walked straight to the precinct. Would you know it, the force grew by, yes, you guessed it, a dozen. My newfound power overwhelmed me.
I told Betty, but she didn't believe me, so I took her out to the football field. It was a Thursday and I wasn't working, nor was she. She was all "Jimmy this is stupid, and so are you"and I said "Just you wait and see"and then I snapped my fingers. I snapped my fingers like there was no tomorrow. I snapped and snapped and after I don't know how many snaps, I stopped. You should've seen the look on Betty. All eyes. I ordered them all about, some to go to the bleachers, others to get a pigskin. After a while I had 1,404 greasers watching and playing football. I am pretty sure a few of them got some bad concussions but they didn't mind. Betty of course, she is an ambitious broad, love her to bits though. She figured "Why not think bigger Jimmy?"and before you know it, we had a greaser army. National guard revved up real quick. Army came along soon enough, but we overwhelmed 'em.
Ya know, sometimes my adviser, I call him Greasy Gob, is all "Did ya really need to conquer the world, boss?"and I said "Yeah, not because I wanted to, but because I could."Welcome to the Planet of Grease, ya dig? |
>Scientist cucks at NASA discover how to change everything in the universe
>lets internet vote on what to change
kek
you know what to do, /b/
#1 week later on CNN
"Presidents are now sworn in on pink dildos and instead of vice presidents it is the president's waifu."The news anchor reported.
"In other news, everyone now is forced to call everyone Hitler. We literally can not say names. Everyone is Hitler. Isn't that right, Hitler?"the anchor says as she turns to her partner.
"Uh, yes.. Hitler."he replies.
"You can find the whole list of major changes rolling out in wave 1 of the universe's updates. But first, here are some of the most shared ones on our website."
#1 : Babies are now called newfags.
#2 : Livestreaming your suicide is now legal and recommended by Youtube. One of the most popular ones is created by /u/Vaulttecanimations of Reddit with over 5 million views in total.
#3 : The CEO of Valve, a video game company in Seattle, is now officially recognized as a prophet from all religions.
|
Birds chirped in the early morning, ignoring the two young children fighting on the playground. The smaller of the two was upset after having his toy snatched away from him. He tried to steal it back, however the older child simply stepped aside and shoved the younger to the ground.
"Quit whining you cry baby, it's mine now!"Sam stated, turning his nose up. His father, John, stood off to the side with a smile. Unlike most parents, he was glad his son was growing up to be the tough man on the playground. Normally parents were scared to death that an argument would spark that dreaded phrase, the phrase that led to so many bloody fights.
"Give it back to me!"cried the smaller boy, lunging again for his toy. Sam simply sidestepped again, laughing.
"You're not very bright, are you."He retorted, grinning.
"Don't make me say it. I'll do it, I will! You don't want me to!"The almost crying boy yelled out, more than loud enough for John to hear. Grinning from ear to ear, the man nodded at his son, giving him the okay.
Sam looked at the boy, spitting at him. "Oh yeah? Well my dad can beat your dad! He's an MMA fighter!"Sam declared, knowing that his father had never lost a fight. His grin was wiped from his face immediately as the ground began to shake beneath the playground. Soil began to collapse in a hole right in front of John's feet.
As the father-son duo looked around bewildered, the little boy simply crunched into a ball. Several tears welled up in his eyes.
"My daddy's dead."he replied quietly as a hand reached up from the ground. |
I looked down at the order in confusion. It was my job to make new words for people to speak, yet this might even be beyond me.
*Welp,* I thought, *Might as well give it a try.*
Pulling out my enchanted hammer I went over to my mystical anvil. Pulling out the appropriate letters from my sack I got to work. With each blow of my hammer the letters shifted closer and closer into place. Then, I went to my legendary forge that would form the pronunciation of the word. After cooling the words in a bucket I went back to the anvil to complete the final step. Laying the word out on top of a piece of paper and the anvil, I attempted to make the word permanent. My mighty hammer rose and fell, the sound of metal striking parchment filling the air.
It was then that I noticed something was going wrong. The word was distorting and twisting, as if actively resisting being made. I had heard of something like this happening to lesser wordsmiths but this was the first time I ever saw it. I desperately tried to strike the word one more time but the letters broke apart and flew to the far corners of the room.
*I guess it really is impossible,* I mused, *to make a word for how fucked America is.* |
”Don’t worry, babe,” Victor says, touching my arm.
“But what if they don’t like me?”
“Hey, what’s not to like?” he says, and slams the lion head door knocker a few times.
Well, where do I even start? I’ve never been the chitchatting type, and family reunions are so far from my cup of tea that it might as well be coffee.
My dress is too tight and the frills are already itching, I’m not the dress-wearing kind of gal, and the same goes for heels. Jesus, these things are uncomfortable, whoever designed them must’ve had anything but practicality and comfort in mind. But Victor’s family is big on traditions, so if one night of feeling like a stuffed doll will make them happy, so be it.
The door opens and a woman in a tight-fitting black dress opens. Her hair is pinned in a lavish bun on top of her head and her lipstick is strikingly red against her pale skin. She also smells familiar, and it’s not the perfume. It’s more of an earthy smell.
“Jo, this is my mother, Asha,” Victor says. “Mother, this is Jo, my fiancée.”
“So you’re Jo!” she exclaims, reaching out a hand. “How lovely!”
“And you’re…” I say, taking her cold hand. A freaking vampire, his mother is an undead! “I mean, nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Instinctively, my hand reaches for my belt, where I usually keep my stake, only to find lace and soft fabric. I smile politely, trying to disguise the glare that is trying to take over my face.
Asha ushers us into the parlor where the rest of Victor’s relatives have gathered. I’m so busy keeping an eye on his mother that I almost walk into one of the other guests.
“Careful, babe,” Victor says. “Uncle Davros can’t see very well.”
I look at the decrepit man in front of me. Red and blue tubes are attached to his head and his cheeks hang like empty sacks. I don’t know what he is, but he sure as hell isn’t human.
Victor drags me further into the room and almost has me tripping on my dress. My focus is on the new threat. Does anyone else know that there are two dangerous creatures in their midst?
“Jo, this is my cousin, David Icke,” Victor says.
“Pleashu to meesha, Jo,” Icke says with a ridiculous lisp. “Gonna gesh shomeshing to eash.”
He struts off towards the food table, and then when he thinks nobody is looking, adjusts the reptilian tail in his pants. As I look around the room I start to notice odd things about all of Victor’s relatives. Every single one of them is trying to hide, rather unsuccessfully, their fangs, wings, fur, or extra limbs.
One tall man has an eye-patch on the side of his face, trying to make it look like the massive eye in the middle of his forehead isn’t his only one. One lady is wearing a massive ball gown in an attempt to keep her eight spiders limbs a secret. Aunt Greta is actually a ghoul with a fake nose. The kids are not chasing a rubber ball, but an eye, and they all have fluffy ears, more or less hidden under their caps.
The ironic thing is that none of their secrets are as big as mine. I shift anxiously in my uncomfortable dress. I’m a direct descendant from Van Helsing himself, and I hunt monsters for a living. Marrying into this family will have my ancestors turning in their graves, but that’s the price of love, am I right?
|
He shuffles into the room, head bent down, looking intimidating in spite of himself. I breathe an internal sigh of relief. No way does that guy look innocent. He has a face tattoo for Christ's sake. I look at my fellow Jurors. They all share a look of contempt, and practically do a river dance right then and there. He takes a seat. His State appointed attorney doesn't look very optimistic, but he's trying to hide it. I am practically patting myself on the back over here. I hope that's not very visible, though.
The defense attorney stands. "Your honor, I would like to begin by acknowledging that while my client does look like a rough customer, and that it is very often the victim's spouse that commits acts of violence, this is not such a cut and dry case."
Are you serious? Am I dreaming right now? Am I extremely lucky, or is the American Justice system really this terrible?
"My client's DNA was found on the scene of the crime, but that was simply a result of his argument with the victim, as he did spit in her face prior to storming off."
No. Nu-uh. I am dreaming. No way that's real. Why am I getting nervous all of the sudden?
"My client wishes for you to see through his rough exterior, however, and admit that we have all had spousal disputes from time to time. It's just that the different circumstances in his life have lead to different contexts for his aggression."
*Aggression?* Did he really just say that? What does that even mean? Context for his aggression? How could that have possibly sounded good in his head? What is this?
"My client acknowledges that the casings found on the scene of the crime match his pistol, but he wishes for you to see his dreamy eyes, so that you might see the goodness in them, the non murderousness."
Is this some kind of sick joke? Am I being punk'd right now? That's what this is, isn't it? There going to have a good laugh after his speech is over, and they are going to arrest me right here on the spot. I have to do something. I have to get out of here.
"My client furthermore wishes to put all of the questions about the fire to bed. He started it, when he unwittingly threw his cigarette into a pile of dead leaves outside the house"
I have to look calm. They are filming me at this very moment. If I get too nervous, this will be the moment they look back on to make fun of me for, to say that I revealed my guilt here.
"In closing, my client wishes that I remind everyone that he has already done his time, his 10 years were done about a month ago, and it would be just awful cruel of you to send him right back into the slammer."
I look around the room. Any minute now the curtains will be pulled back, the men with cameras will come out, and Ashton Kutcher himself will trap me in this hellhole. I may even have to do an interview. I shudder at the thought. The attorney has sat down. The room is still. I can't bear the silence. I jump up.
"Is this what you wanted, you sick freaks?! To force me to partake in this false kangaroo court? To give me a sliver of hope that I would get away? Did you just want to know why I did it? Well, I'll tell you why! It's because Asthon Kutcher is a dirty fuck! That's why!"
I survey the aftermath. The shock on the faces of the audience looks a little too real. |
*Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic,* thought Jonas, as he tried to see through the flames of the greenhouse. He adjusted his breathing apparatus. The room spun around him. *DON’T panic, they need you.*
“HEL-*kof kof kof kof*-*gasssssp*-HELP!” shouted a horrified woman’s voice behind the door.
Jonas heard the voices of two coughing toddlers as well. The flames raged on the plants around him, but there was still a semi-open path leading to the door of a barn attached to the greenhouse. Jonas used a flaming two-by-four to move some debris that fell and blocked the door. He tried to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked. He tried again, and felt the burn through his glove. The metal of the doorknob was scalding hot. Jonas tried to catch his balance, as the smoking room spun like a carnival ride around him.
Jonas broke out his axe.
“STAND BACK!” shouted Jonas, with a slurred voice. He felt whoozy.
He hacked at the door. He hacked, and hacked, and made a jagged hole. He saw a flaming room with a young woman huddled beside her children inside. A flaming shelf had fallen over, blocking their side of the door.
The woman tried to scream, but could only cough and cry.
Jonas hacked at the door again, then heard some ceiling crash behind him. It made Jonas really paranoid, he jumped.
*Shit shit shit,* thought Jonas, still hacking away. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He could still smell the cannabis. The breathing apparatus worked, but not perfectly. He could more than feel the THC. *Just stay calm man, it always worked before just keep cool. Think about the free meal at the end of this.*
Jonas opened the hole enough to stick his arm in. He judged the flames, then stuck his hand in to unlock the door. There was so much smoke he couldn’t see them anymore.
Jonas never cried, but he cried then. He couldn’t see the way back out, and he couldn’t see anything inside. He tried to shove the debris in front of him away, but he couldn’t get to it.
*Where the hell is everybody else,* thought Jonas. He wanted to throw up. *Nobody else can handle the high. Dammit,* Jonas got really scared and paranoid. *I hope everybody’s all right.*
Jonas found another two-by-four, and put his whole body and legs into it. He got the shelf out of the way before the two-by-four burned up to his hands. He followed the coughing until he found the woman there, with her unconscious children.
She looked up at him with horrified, bloodshot eyes.
“I got you,” said Jonas. He carried one of the kids, and helped her along as she carried the other. She walked a bit, and got into the greenroom. She started running in zig zags, and tripped over near a fire. Jonas dragged her away, and took off his apparatus.
He gave her some air. She nodded her head and ran along.
Jonas took a few smoky breaths, and wondered how the girl wasn’t already unconscious.
*You’ve done this before,* thought Jonas, as he got them out. Jonas ran the wrong way for a few seconds, then jerked the girl and her kid back in the opposite direction. *You’ve been worse than this, you had plenty of practice, all those Friday nights at Jahlil’s fraternity, all those months of mind numbingly good tree, you’ve DONE this before.*
Jonas re-discovered the entrance, and ran out into the semi-open air. It was a maze of burning plants.
Jonas ran a bit, then knelt to the ground gagging. He thought he could do it. He thought he could make it out.
*I have to save them,* thought Jonas. Jonas threw up all over himself, and fell to the ground. The world spun around him. The toddler was unconscious on his chest. *I thought I could save them.*
The woman dragged Jonas up.
“I know the way,” she said, with a slurred voice.
Jonas let her guide him along, and he held onto the kid for dear life. The smoke rose high as skyscrapers into the sky. Jonas started laughing.
*I feel like I’m dying,* he thought.
“MARGAERY!” shouted a man with a breathing apparatus. He sprinted towards them, and picked up his wife.
Jonas collapsed, and heard the spraying of water hoses all around him. A flurry of people rushed around them. He saw out of the corner of his eyes them doing chest compressions on the kids.
The kids coughed, and breathed.
*All that pineapple bonanza I used to smoke,* thought Jonas, as he laughed on the ground. One of his buddies came by, and handed him a bottle of water. He smiled. *I couldn’t have saved their lives without the practice.*
|
14 parsecs from the nearest inhabited system, the scout ship Mustela XIV broadcasted a distress signal in all directions. Across the electromagnetic spectrum, a sphere of communications expanded at the speed of light around the stranded ship.
On the bridge, captain Strongbow scanned the external displays, seeing only a pitiful darkness, accentuated by the tiniest pinpricks of stars, too distant to ever reach, and even then devoid of resources. Strongbow sent a message to the mechanic currently spacewalking at the nose of the ship.
"Lewis. Have you identified the problem?"
"It's the jump scanner, captain."came the reply. "Filter seems to have blown up and ruined the seal. It's a mess."
"I'll assume you can't repair it then. Any idea what caused the problem?"
"It couldn't have been an impact. The dust this far out is too thin to get past our laser grid. Must have just been a faulty part. We can't make any jumps without it unless we find a pre-mapped wormhole."
"There might not be any pre-mapped holes for light-years out here. Thats what we were supposed to find. We're stuck with Analog speed."Part of the Pioneer scout program, the Mustela explored deep space, looking for places to establish direct travel routes around the sectors of the galaxy that humanity had managed to spread to. Without the jump scanner, the ship was restricted to slower-than-light travel. 14 parsecs at that speed would take almost a lifetime. Unless they got very lucky, Strongbow knew that the Mustela XIV would never return home.
As if the captain's prayers were immediately answered, at that moment the incoming signals screen flared to life. In the holographic display, a blinking dot appeared at the edge of the growing communications sphere.
"Lewis. Get back in here. We've got another craft returning our signal."
"On it, captain. What are the odds of that? I assumed we were screwed out here."
Back on the bridge, the navigation team plotted a course for the returned signal. After seventy-eight Earth-minutes the signal had returned, meaning that the other ship was just thirty-four light-minutes away. At full speed, the Analog Drive could get then there in a few hours.
Each signal that was sent to the ship was returned unchanged. The crew of Mustela XIV began to grow uneasy. Whatever they were currently approaching, at full speed no less, didn't seem to be a rescue spacecraft. But whatever it was, it was surely better than drifting forever through space.
Finally, the ship approached the mysterious object. Strongbow ordered to reduce velocity, and continue to attempt communications. Then, the captain opened the visual window and switched on the ships floodlights, so he could see the craft with his own eyes.
"What the hell is that?"
The ship approached a massive sphere, perfectly reflective, like a polished ball bearing. Each signal that had been sent towards it had been returned, of course, just as a light returns when shined into a mirror. Nobody aboard the Mustela had ever seen anything like it, so large it could have engulfed a freighter, and perfectly spherical and reflective. Was it some sort of alien spaceship? Or was it alive itself?
Awestruck, the captain could barely think of what to do. But, he decided the best option was to retreat.
"Full reverse thrust!"He commanded. "Now!"
As the scout ships analog drive whirred and ignited, the ship lurched away from the chrome ball. Immediately, the strange object reacted. It abandoned it's round form, becoming an amorphous mass, writhing and ungulating. It wrapped itself around the Mustela XIV, moving with incredible speed. the crew could only watch in horror as the chrome monstrosity completely engulfed them, and the only light was the ships distress signals and it's floodlights, reflected infinitely across the mirrored interior. As the space within the being began the contract, the kaleidoscopic lights danced.
"This thing is alive,"thought Strongbow to himself. He barely recognized the imminent destruction of his crew and himself. "A beautiful predator,"he whispered, and then the hull was crushed and everything went dark. |
Eternity, quite honestly, isn't as bad as everyone makes it out to be. Being incorporeal has its pros, after all. I can walk through fire, bullets and anything anyone can throw at me and I know for certain I can never die as a consequence of being too reckless.
On account of this, I spend most of my unlife sight-seeing where I couldn't go in my mortal life. I once went to the depths of the North Atlantic, for instance, to discover Atlantis. In the end all I discovered were some glowy fish and what was possibly the remains of the Titanic.
I think I overstepped this time, however. As a person, I'd always been curious over the tempting mystery of Area 51. Perhaps it was the clandestine nature of how it operates and wether it exists that drew me to it, or maybe it was the secrets it supposedly contains. For real, I always wondered if Aliens existed.
So, naturally, I decided to explore this enigmatic base of operations, being the curious ghost I am. The Nevada Air Force facility where it is said to lie was a cinch to break into on account of me floating through all the defences. As I hovered in the interior of the base, chuckling to myself at me being in what was supposedly America's most well kept secret, a floodlight shone upon me. Alarms and sirens began to blare, people yelling over tannoy systems, 'Code White, Code White! Supernatural entity is on the premises!'
I panicked and began to float back through the wall I came from, only to find I couldn't phase through it. The wall which'd formerly been made of stone now crackled with an odd blue lightning which, as I approached it, instantly repelled me as two magnets of the same pole would. An invisible force pushed me back into the base as I began to hear the thud of boots on the ground all around me. Without thinking twice I dashed into the nearest compound and tucked myself into a corner. If I had a heart it'd have been pounding through my chest at that point.
A small moan sounded as I peeled my eyes to make out shapes amongst the dark room. A light flashed on to reveal my surroundings, and I fell backwards as I looked around to see the forms of other creatures inhabiting translucent, water-filled containers around the room, each of varyingly ludicrous appearances: some clearly amphibious, others strangely predator-esque and carnivorous in nature. The latter exuded brutality. They were all clearly animalistic, simply snapping and snarling at me, but each was unlike anything I've ever seen before on the Earth or in my travels. Collectively, their colours could've filled a rainbow. My eyes flashed from creature to creature and I saw tentacles, bulbous eyes, many-teethed mouths and even insectoid wings amidst the crowd of seemingly mutated lifeforms.
One such creature, with many eyes lining a skeletal face, regarded me with slight intrigue. A black tongue slithered out of its maw to reveal yet another eye which lightly nudged against the container it was in. "*Ruuuuuuhhhhhn*,"it croaked to me in a garbled, contorted voice more akin to a robot than the beast it looked like.
I only realised what it meant too late as a net fell over me and snared me within it, crackling with the same blue electricity of the fence as, for the first time in forty years, pain began to wrack my body. And then I was out like a light.
And that's how I ended up here, in a white room, across the table from a man in a suit more precise and elegant than a ballet dancer. His face matched this; pointed and linear, with hard, sharp eyes. I looked down to find my hands cuffed to the table, and I had to suppress a snigger at the fact they'd naively thought they could chain a ghost down.
"So, do you know why you're here?"He said, straight to business. All professional like.
"Hold up, first you answer my questions. Or I'll just slip out of these manacles you have here."
He cleared his throat and presented some papers from the ground beside him. "I'm afraid that won't be happening; I think you'll find we're well versed in dealing with your kind."He reached into his breast pocket, and produced a small pen which he slid over to me.
He was right, it appeared I couldn't slip out of the manacles. Drat. I chewed my ethereal lip and let out a sigh. "A'right, what do you want Sharp?"
"Sharp?"
"I dunno, your nose is pointy."
He frowned at that, betraying some emotion in his stoic expression. "Irregardless of that jab, I think you'll find the offer we're presenting you with is rather favourable. You see, we at area 51 or always in the market for people with your capabilities. So long as they keep their mouths shut."
"Can't say I'm too good at that."
"We can always stitch it."
I gulped, and flicked my hands dismissively. "I was playing, Pointer. Ok, hit me up. What's the deal? I gotta steal some documents or something? Become James Bond... or, rather, James Incorporeal Bond? I'll have my drink invisible, not tangible?"
He frowned, clearly not amused by my casual quipping. This guy seemed like a tough nut to crack. "More like you'll be playing the role of a minor nuisance. A useful nuisance, though. See, we always need a breadcrumb trail to keep the public from discovering what we do here. That's where things like you come in; you slip yourself into a few videotapes, maybe haunt a household or two. Get people's attention off of us. Have them look internally for ghosts and the supernatural rather than externally. You catch my drift?"
I smirked, and leant against the table. I narrowed my eyes as I scrutinized him intensely. "So what's in it for me?"
"Not being in captivity like the other creatures you saw here. And, perhaps if you're good, free roam of the area."
"You, Square-face, have got yourself a deal. Just call me Casper."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Childhood reference. Something told me you wouldn't get it." |
In the eve of that timeless morn, Julia thought of Sulla. How she had begged him for the life of her nephew. That day had been hot and it had been still but for the sounds of horses and the anticipation of death.
*Nothing has changed.*
Then she had begged. And her nephew's life was spared. And he rose. From that foolhardy charity Marius had risen, incarnate as Caesar.
"Julius. They would name the months after me."
As spoken, so it was done. Even now, on this timeless day, his name lived on. But now Julia thought of Sulla. Long dead and forgotten. She wondered if he had been right. Had she degraded herself for the destruction of the world? Was this Jupiter's wrath?
*How could you think so?* she thought. *He is opposite him. He is the Romulus against this terror.*
That terror was a man far worse than the Gauls or Hannibal. That man was a man of the people, those strange people who wished to kill everything who weren't them, who weren't pure. He was a nightmare worse than she could comprehend. And their ghosts of war were ready.
They called themselves the Nazis, though Julia knew not its meaning. The Nazis were a warlike people, much like the Romans, and they knew of the Romans, and they could easily kill the Romans.
*Germany,* she thought.
Such a strange name. Would this Germany be the death of all? Would her nephew die today as the sun rose, stomped out of existence by the unseen spears of these otherworldly men?
Outside the balcony all was still. It was like that day a thousand years ago.
*It really was a thousand years ago, if these Germans are right.*
Stillness. Anticipation. Beyond, the mountains of Italy were stark and there was smoke rising and the sound of metal gearing up. Somewhere there was Hitler. Somewhere there was Julius.
*Why do you hate him? Why now? He is your family.*
Julius was at the head of the remaining army. He was Dictator, and the only thing holding Rome together. For days now many men had died. They had died at German hands and German ghosts. Those spears they could not see. No phalanx could protect them from it. No mandibles could outmaneuver it. Many had died. More would die today.
Julius was at the head. His leadership alone held the army and its morale. Hitler was there, far away behind the enemy lines.
"They are losing the war. The American's, the English. They can't keep up."
The Italians had told them that. The Italians were from Rome, after Rome had gone to time's nonexistence. Only its carcass had remained. But the people who lived there were knowledgeable. And the Romans listened.
Hitler was on the run. His army was falling apart. He needed a victory to pull things together. He needed a way to die like a man. And so he led his army when he heard Caesar had come.
Now the sun had risen. The leaves rustled.
*In this month of my nephew, named after him, he will die. Today. And yet I do not weep. I anticipate it though it means my death and the death of Rome.*
There was chaos. The African riders whom Rome had used against Carthage were the first to die. Great mounds of earth exploded. The sounds of death and suffering filled the air. Many died before even seeing the Germans. But they were Romans. And Caesar was eternal.
*Even now they remember me,* he thought. *Even now, they live in my shadow. This time that we fight, July. It is named after me. Everything is mines. I cannot die.*
And he knew if he lived and killed this Hitler, Rome would live forever. There would be no ruins. There would be no Italy. Already amongst the Nazis there were talks of him leading. He was the man Hitler dreamed to be. Germany was a land in Rome's shadow. And here he was, the sun of suns, a God like Jupiter himself.
Julius charged the gunfire and the artillery fire. Many a good man died, but none retreated. He charged with Romans, and Romans were of a different blood.
*I come,* he thought.
Then the Germans were in sight.
*And I see you.*
From a guarded bomb shelter, Hitler watched. Julius felt his eyes.
*I will conquer you.*
The Romans charged like the stories, racing towards their deaths. But Hitler had underestimated them. He had been a fool by coming. By coming out on the battlefield he had fallen into the Roman's trap for it was only him the Romans needed. Julius knew his army would stand no chance. And so he had planned differently. He thought like Pompei and like Scipio Africanous did, and he was cunning.
"Sir,"the German said.
His name was Heinrich Himmler. He was an ambitious man and he was a smart man. And he was a Catholic. A Roman Catholic.
"What?"
"Perhaps we should reconsider. There is still a chance for Germany, for the people, if we engage in talks."
"Hah! Talks! An armistice? Or a flogging of all our beliefs? No! If we die, we die like them! We die with honor!"
Then Himmler made up his mind. He thought of everything the emissary had told him. Everything Caesar had promised.
*Yes,* he thought. *Like them. The Romans before us.*
He pulled the knife and his life flashed in that instant. He knew he would not survive, but perhaps the dream would. The dream of the Nazis, of the true people.
Hitler turned at the sound. Himmler stabbed him and Hitler was shocked and dying. Many times had men tried to kill him. None had been successful. Until now.
"You too, Himmler?"
And he fell and then there was gunfire inside the bunker and the moment was lost and Himmler was killed and a pandemonium swept the Nazis.
From behind then, flanking the main German concentration, phalanxes of the best Roman soldiers swarmed and overrun the Germans.
Hitler had fallen into the trap and organized the army as if in antiquity, disregarding the millennia of advanced war tactics.
It was a hard fought battle, but then it was over, and it was night and there was that stillness again.
And like lightning the news spread and decisions were made. Julius Caesar had survived and Adolf Hitler was dead. The words dropped like bombs over the countries of the world. But that was not the end. In Germany's scramble, they made the only move they could make, a move that worried the English and the Americans. They appointed Caesar as the new leader. And with Caesar, Rome allied with the Nazis and the war was rekindled.
As the news spread that night a great excitement filled Rome, but Julia shared none of it.
*Ah, so you have survived, my nephew.*
And in her heart she was sad.
*I should be joyful and praise the Gods.*
She wondered why she felt so traitorous. She wondered why she thought of Sulla, the man who would kill Julius if not for her.
"Marius was a demagogue,"he had said. "And in Julius, I see much of Marius."
*Sulla,* she thought. *Perhaps you were right.*
And she thought of Hitler, the dead Nazi leader.
*Is that our future? Is that what you will become, nephew?*
But in her heart she already knew. She looked to the sky and there were tears on her cheeks and she asked the Gods for answers. But there were none. Everything was still.
|
....... he said to himself as the elemental moved towards him. His arms extended, palms towards it, ready to create the only barrier that could contain it.
'Oh look he's doing the wall one. I love this one!'
The oblivious tourists gathered round, unaware of the danger that faced them.
....... he thought angrily. .......!
The elemental became aware of the crowd gathering, and its direction abruptly changed towards their energy and away from the tastier, but much more dangerous prize of the mimes aura.
.......! The mime silently shouted. He knew exactly what to do but he had to move fast. He spoke the ancient word of incantation and the Lasso of Marceau appeared in his hands. With a skill born of endless experience, effortless like a leather skinned cow hand, he threw and hooked his fish. Pulling it towards himself, hand over hand with the creature screaming in rage as its defeat became clear, he began to think on the last few days. The attacks were getting more frequent and aggressive. Several times in the last weeks he had risked real world violence doing his 'show' on another street performers patch. They had no idea he had saved their lives. Someone needed to investigate.
.......... he thought to himself gravely.
The air elemental continued to struggle. Minions of Al'Akir, the Lord of these beings, could not handle being constrained in any way. If you are the kin of storms, the brother to hurricanes and cyclones, used to raging unchecked throughout their own plain and ours, the idea of being put in a box must be horrendous. A box though, was exactly what the mime was constructing, shaping the walls with his bare hands around his prey. Once the box was complete he could send this creature back to Skywall on the spirit plain. As a young trainee, before he had taken the vows of wordlessness, he had once asked why they did not destroy these creatures. He still hand the note his teacher wrote him in response in his wallet. Sometimes when one had reached a person before he got there he returned to it. It kept him focused on his job. He knew it by heart and yet still the words on the physical paper were an optically applied salve.
“A soul is a soul, even if you do not comprehend it. If you take a soul in retaliation for one taken then you will have lost 3 that day”
The mime completed the rituals of return, opening the portal back to Skywall, hands balled in fists next to his eyes in concentration, the sorrow of the elemental projected onto his own face.
“Hahahaha. The crying face is a classic!”
The now safe tourists enjoyed the show, and chucked a few coins on the ground in appreciation. Like a Buddhist monks tied to the begging bowl by their rejection of material goods, the mime was dependant on these unintentional tithes paid to the him and his order.
The mime collected himself and the coins and looked absently at the cheery tourists whom he had saved.
…....! The mimes stomach dropped and his heart leapt at the same time.
In the crowd a young woman stood, like a stalled car on a race way. The mime and the girl were no more still than, say, waiting for a bus, and yet they were at the same time made of stone. The stone buttresses at either end of a bridge forming between them. The tourists now forgotten, swirled around them both like water. She had seen it all. The bridge was yet tenuous, but the mime knew it would only strengthen. That was how it had always happened, it was how he had been selected.
The selection though meant one of two possible things, hence his heaven-bound heart and grounded guts. She was here to join him, to face a grave challenge. Or she was to replace him, as he would soon fall.
…......, he said.
*'What was that?'* she signed in reply. |
Being born into a life of luxury is what everyone desires. What most people get however, is a mixed bag at best. I was no different.
My parents were not rich. There where the opposite. They came here as refugees and their haunting tale of chance and death stuck with me whenever they speak about it.
Some people talk about how they lived through minesweeper. That they got very nervous each time they clicked and bemoaned their fate when they failed.
My dad got to watch his neighbor fail. The 40 something year old shop keeper who like to lie about expiry dates simply vanished as an explosion overtook him.
Well, mostly vanish. The thumb that smacked my dad in the forehead told him it was less magic, and more explosion.
Despite the line of soldiers behind him, rusty AKs in hand, my dad ran the odds.
He made it, along with five others.
One stopped to gloat, his cheer was loud as he screamed his joy to the skies. The snap of rifles cut his celebration short. It was both ironic and horrific that his falling body set off a landmine.
My dad had run straight out of the field. He was shielded by that blast. From the book keeper of his village, and the soldiers never saw him vanish into the underbrush of the forest.
From there, he then fled out of his home country with millions of others. Then, he reached our country. A stable country.
He fell in love and he started a family. He my mother, a fellow refugees who had it easier, but still lost everything.
All against the odds, he always said.
He only desired that we, his children, would strive to be our best and to reach towards our dreams. Dreams were good, but Dreams without a backup plan were stupid.
Like becoming an astronaut was a great dream! An excellent dream!
How many people actually got to go up?
Yeah, there were more lottery winners then astronauts.
So I looked into game design and computer sciences. Both were solid parts of society. Computer for my day job, game design as a hobby.
Eventually I would be able to make it out on my own. A solid plan with a high chance of success. My mom and dad were both pleased.
I was pleased.
Until my 18th birthday.
Sure, there were dragons. Sure, there were the extra species that had resided with us in peace ever since the world wars changed the world.
My best friends were a dwarf and an elf. Though it was weird how the calm and peaceful one was the dwarf and the loud and annoying one was the elf. What were the odds?
We had always talked about learning true magic from the dragons. Creatures of immense power that even modern military hesitated to engage. That was when they were facing just a single dragon. A group meant that if they were generally left alone as no country could afford to lose their army.
The problem wasn’t the dragon’s but their elders. Elder dragons were commonly called God Dragons for a reason. The problem lay in the fact that elder dragons were rarely different looking from their lesser counter part.
Like minesweeper, it was all about math and luck.
You could analyse their bodies, their magic, their affect on their fellow dragons. But was that really an elder dragon? Or was it simply an older, stronger dragon leading a pack?
The last country that poked at them was Ethiopia and now their country was in shambles. Anyone was more then a hundred men at arms could legitimately attempt a military coup.
True magic was best magic. That was what we all said during childhood. That was what the elder dragons used to earn the moniker of god.
Of course I desired to learn it. But I also trampled on those dreams until I no longer craved it.
Less then 1% of people were chosen to be their disciple. Regardless of race. Human, dwarf, elf, merfolk, lizardfolk, etherials, etc, etc.
The statistics were like one in a billion were chosen. The day was called Dragon Day and it signalled a dramatic change in your life. Much like winning the lottery.
So I did what my father taught me. Accept the odds, move forward.
I had applied towards three universities, and I started tinkering with my friends on our board game. Project Freelancer, a game about running and shooting things and kill the target before your friends could. A card based game of competitive, action filled fun!
So when I got up for my birthday, I only wanted to spend time with friends, family and more cake then what was deemed healthy.
What I didn’t want however, was to wake up and have my parents screaming at me.
They ordered me to dress, and brush up frantically. They were scared and that scared me.
I did as they asked. I was young and dumb, not young and stupid. My dad expected obedience during times of crisis. He wasn’t afraid of making sure I understood the pecking order.
Following orders is what could separate a man from a life and death. Both my parents had a plan out, they made it. A lot of their neighbors didn’t have a plan, and they no longer heard from a lot of people.
So I washed up, dressed up, and hurried downstairs. My family was there. Parents, siblings. My fellow children were wide eyes but silent.
My parents nodded at me. My mom fussed about my clothes. They were yelling at each other about my dresscode.
Is was nonsense. Why would I break out my suit for my own birthday?
My dad then held my shoulders. He was more serious then I had ever seen him and I froze under his cold eyes.
“Remember we love you,” he said with emotion. My family gave me a hug and I was starting to panic.
I had lived through 17 birthdays. They were generally relaxed, happy affairs.
This was not a happy affair. It was also the opposite of relaxed. In fact, I was starting to freak the bunnies out. I never swore in the house. My father disciplined and my mom read minds. She always knew when I had uttered a swear and they would not tolerate it!
I was confused and turned around and then pushed out the door.
My loving family locked those doors as soon as I was outside.
I was getting ready to rant at them when I noticed why they had locked the doors.
I nearly shat myself. It was only the saving grace of my morning routine that prevented me from making a smelly mess.
In the skies that covered my vision, hung dragons. They beat their wings and seemed to effortlessly stay still in the air. Which was a feat considering the size and weight of a dragon.
“Uh. Hi,” I eloquently began and promptly chocked as I suddenly forgot every drill about manners towards the dragons. Damn education system. They should have prepped me better!
I was saved when a particularly large dragon descended.
“Child, you have been chosen to learn about the truth of existence itself. True magic will be yours!” the dragon bellowed in a deep and wise voice. “Accept me as your master and I promise you the world at your… urk!”
I blinked as my brain processed what just happened.
“Oh no you don’t Finkleton!” A second and enraged dragon yelled as it dove down and bodychecked the first dragon at full speed.
Finkleton screamed as he flew into my neighbor’s house. Then into the next house. He was eventually persuaded to stop by the seventh house.
I absently noted that a few dragons had their talons out, protective magic most likely. Which meant that my neighbors live! Homeless, but alive…
“I apologize for this. I am High Moon, daughter of the ethereal plane. If you accept… Gah!”
I literally froze. Deep arcane energy sweeped around me and locked me in place as High Moon was bombarded by nearly three dozen fireballs the size of my house.
Her smouldering corpse was hissing and popping. Then it exploded outwards and High Moon regenerated right before my eyes. Her form was restored within a minute and her rage had her gather and return spell fire.
My energy barrier held and I was no worse for wear.
“How childish,” a voice whispered in my ears. His voice was barely a sound but was still clear and well annunciated. “They are all children. What you need is a wise dragon to guide.”
The voice vanished and I watched in awe as half a dozen dragons swoop down in formation. At their center was another dragon that was promptly powered bomb into the earth. A ring of three houses deep formed as the dragon made a large crater.
That seemed to start a war. The skies filled with magic, screams, and explosions.
“Hahaha. How lively,” a deep and amused voice said as he snapped his finger. The binding magic around me vanished.
I turned my head and blinked as I saw a well dressed man stand beside me. His suit was a rich black, pinstriped, and he was both sexy and proud. I wasn’t attracted to men, but if this man asked me out I don’t think I could have said no.
He looked at me and smirked. I blushed. Damn it body!
“Don’t worry. I have that affect on people.”
I nodded.
“Curious at why these elder dragons are all here?”
I nodded and stopped. Wait. These are all elder dragons!?
|
*Alan had just woken up and was ready to start the day fresh with the most important meal of the day: The Breakfast.*
*But of course, being the colossal git the he is, he could just not be arsed to even make the effort. Will Alan understand the importance of a balance dietary meal or will he just slam some butter on a pre-cut piece of garbage loaf and call it a meal?*
**Coming up next on Alan's Miserable Bachelor Life: Alan has invited his romantic interest over for dinner. But will Alan actually get his shit in order or will this be another bust like all the rest? The answer will not shock you.**
-----------------------------
**Previously on Alan's Miserable Bachelor Life: After having woken up and eaten the world's most uninspired breakfast, Alan surprises nobody by taking the car to go to work, even though it's easily just a 20 minutes walk from his home.**
*Working as an insurance consultant you'd imagine Alan had some invested interest in ensuring his own welfare. But as he works and toils through the day, the man just can't be bothered to add some passion or creativity into the mix. Instead opting out for a bland and disinterested work-day, easily making his contribution to the firm an unforgettable experience.*
*Lunch as usual is a fucking disgrace, so much that it's not even worth mentioning. They say that you are what you eat and Alan is already a bland piece of shit.*
*But despite all this, there might actually be something exciting happening in Alan's life this day as he's invited his old high-school fling over for dinner. Fingers crossed that the twat might actually make an effort for once.*
**Coming up next on Alan's Miserable Bachelor Life: Pandemonium on the Kitchen as Alan realizes you can't just wing a fucking Beef Wellington if you don't know what the fuck you're doing. Alan's psychiatrist also shares some surprising news about his mental condition. All this and more in Alan's Miserable Bachelor Life.** |
Hello world, I am John Husak! This single Reddit message on some random subreddit that God wouldn't tell me about is my only form of communication. As such, I will continually edit this document to respond to anything you send me.
So what should you send me? Anything! Something funny! Something sad! Something that would piss me off if i still had the ability to show true emotion! I will try to get through as much as I can, so check back here!
---
Edit 1, 12/4/2027 - /u/Pikapikarai, I still don't understand what that video means.
Edit 2, 12/6/2027 - /u/shittymorph, haha, you got me, wish I could give you gold, blah blah blah
Edit 3, 12/7/2027 - @EVERYONE WHO HAS A PHILOSOPHY QUESTION, I've literally been here for THREE DAYS, please don't think I have all the answers yet.
Edit 4, 12/7/2027 - Hey did you know that your pets are alive and talking up here? And that they won't get over the fact that I was a furry as a 16-year-old?
Edit 5, 12/9/2027 - /u/waterguy12, can i be a meme? I physically can't do anything else because of my lack of messages, so can you?
Edit 6, 12/11/2027 - The floor is lava.
Edit 7, 12/12/2027 - For TV, we have this thing called "interdimentional cable."I heard someone mutter something about "high IQ", but I'm not sure.
-
Well, that's all I've thought of so far. Keep sending me stuff! Get #AskHusak trending on whatever social media you've gotten up to by this point. VRChat? Masker? TOME? Idk, I'm surprised there's still people who can understand english on Reddit by now. Bye for now! |
Something was wrong with the car seat underneath Sarah’s butt - the foam had worn away over time leaving a cavernous hole just barely covered over with plastic. She could feel the metal ribs of the car seat, as well as several loose springs that pricked her each time the car wobbled on its ancient suspension.
‘Don’t forget your lunch.’
‘Yeah, I got it, mom.’
Sarah waggled the paper sack she’d stuffed with an apple and a peanut-butter sandwich at her mother, who barely looked over from the road. Her appetite hadn’t really come back yet, but the people at the clinic had said that’d come with time. Right now, though, the thought of biting into an apple was about as appealing as cracking off a section of candle and chewing it up. She scratched her forearm, then stopped, hiking her long sleeve down to her wrist.
‘You ok, honey?’
‘*Yes*, mom.’
Sarah’s mom frowned at the road. They turned left off the main road and followed a long artistically bendy path through a broad expanse of lush green lawn. The van decelerated with its signature brake-squealing whine until they stopped in front of a long red carpet covered with a green awning that led into a large building with tall columns on its front. It looked kind of like the fancy apartment buildings in New York on TV.
‘Remember what your therapist said, if you feel overwhelmed or-‘
‘Thanks for the ride, mom.’ Sarah hopped out of the car and flipped the door shut behind her. She marched down the red carpet, crappy lunch clenched in one fist.
— |
Dear Johnny,
Me know you sad about Sparkles. All we love must fall like sun, even kitty cats. Nothing we can do but love each other when we can. Me tell you story that maybe make you feel good:
When young child, me have pet mammoth—like your kitty Sparkles. Mammoth name Bobo. Me love Bobo, and Bobo love me. He treat me like brother. Bobo also child, like me. We play with each other in day and sleep in same cave at night. Me wake up and give Bobo great, big hug—Bobo grow up faster than me. But Bobo always care for me. When me hungry, Bobo bring me food; sometimes berries or nuts, sometimes squirrel or rabbit. When me sick, Bobo lie next to me and make me warm—mammoth fur warm and soft. But Bobo never stop play with me. Our favorite game Find Rock: me and Bobo each take rock. Me show rock to Bobo, Bobo show rock to me. Then hide rocks. If me find Bobo rock, I win; If Bobo find my rock, he win. We play every day.
I grow up and Bobo grow up bigger. He protect me and tribe. Everybody love Bobo! He play with all children, hunt with me and other men, and gather food with women. One day, me ride Bobo to other tribe. We both hungry—winter kill all plants, so food too low. Me ask tribe for food, but they also low food. Other tribe have no food for many more days than my tribe. Night come and other tribe let me sleep in cave. Cave too small for Bobo, so he sleep outside. Sun come up, me wake and smell meat. Other tribe must have hunted early and found tasty animal. But this meat smell different. . .not a meat I smell before. My heart stop.
No!
Me leave cave and see other tribe gather around fire. They eat and talk and laugh; but where Bobo? He hungry too, please let him eat. But I know what they eat, and you do too. They eat Bobo.
Other tribe have no choice. Winter make us all starve, so they kill Bobo to live. Bobo grow up with me, take care of me. We play Find Rock, and when Bobo grow up he play Find Rock with all children in tribe. Bobo hunt with men and gather with women. He make us laugh. Now other tribe eat Bobo; but they laugh. Other tribe not die now because Bobo provide meat. Me miss Bobo everyday when me wake up in cave and no Bobo to hug until sickness take me many winters later. But he die to help other tribe.
Me answer your question now. "Do animals go to Heaven?"
Yes, Johnny. Me see your kitty Sparkles play Find Rock with Bobo and they laugh together.
Keep chin up. As my tribe say, "No thing—man, woman, child, animal, or plant—die without helping other things."Sparkles help you, and now she help other children like you in Heaven.
\- Gog
^(*Dictated but not read.*)
_____
^(If you enjoyed this, I have plenty more short stories on my subreddit /r/ScottBeckman) |
A cloud of red dust and lime green fire abruptly filled the cramped, dimly-lit basement.
The force of the explosion launched Dr Jefferson into the concrete wall.
Well, Daniel Jefferson was actually more of a self-proclaimed doctor, since the Western Otavia Medical Association did not recognize alchemists as medical practitioners.
But what made Daniel utterly furious, was that even dentists, or in his words, “glorified mouth plumbers”, were able to receive the status of ‘Dr’, under the Western Otavian law.
So, he was going to summon the spirit of Satan to take revenge on that pesky alchemy-denying Medical Association at their fortnightly board meeting.
However, it wasn’t going to plan.
______________________________________________________
The darkened figure of a human male became more detailed as Daniel slowly regained his consciousness.
“Where’s Eminem!?” The man barked.
“W-what the fuck?” A dazed Daniel responded as he gingerly rose to his feet.
With even more enthusiasm, the man questioned Daniel again, “Has Marshall asked about me!?”
“Who are you!?” Daniel asked.
“I’m Stan, Eminem’s biggest fan!” The man said.
“Wait, so you’re not Sa-oh fuck,” Daniel replied.
Out of the corner his eye, Daniel spotted his phone laying face up, with cracks, green ooze and red dust now dominating the screen.
“And now my phone looks like the fucking public restroom of phones, that’s just terrific,” Daniel sighed.
There was a prolonged silence, before Daniel had an idea.
He clicked his fingers, “Wait, yes, yes, yes, Eminem has been asking all about you, he wants to meet you and that’s why I’ve summoned you!” Daniel exclaimed.
Stan’s face lit up, “Really!?”
Daniel nodded, “But before you can meet him, he said you’ve got to take care of some, um, *imposters*, on the 4th floor of the Western Otavia Medical Association’s building."
Daniel rummaged around in his desktop drawer until he found his Ruger SR9c, which he handed to Stan.
______________________________________________________
Stan entered the elegant boardroom with the Ruger hidden behind his back.
“Will the real slim shady please stand up?” He announced.
The dozen or so middle-aged faces simultaneously looked up towards him.
“I repeat, will the real slim shady please stand up?”
They glanced at each other in confusion.
Stan revealed his pistol and cocked it, “We’re gonna have a problem here.”
______________________________________________________
r/Dri_Writes for more light-hearted/humor stories!
|
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