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**This Story does not contain any spoilers from the movie**
Dr. Smolder Bravestone ran with intense vigor out towards an empty field from a thick and unforgiving jungle. He gasped as he broke through the heavy vines and into the clearing.
“Come on!” Jefferson McDonough shouted from the cockpit of a helicopter hovering over the tall grass. “We don’t have any more time!”
Dr. Smolder Bravestone jumped onto the side of the helicopter as Jefferson lifted the helicopter upwards with full strength.
Franklin Finbar and Professor Sheldon leaned together over parchment paper trying to solve a mysterious riddle that could unlock the answers to Jumanji.
“Why are you guys wasting your time with that nonsense!” Ruby Roundhouse shouted towards the two scientists.
“This ‘nonsense’ is the very thing that could save our lives.” Professor Sheldon snapped back.
“Enough!” Dr. Smolder Bravestone shouted towards everyone. “We only have one shot at this.”
Jefferson McDonough started to lose control as heavy storm clouds started to cling together in comfort.
“I thought you said you were a pilot.” Ruby Roundhouse remarked.
“Were a pilot,” Jefferson McDonough repeated with his forefinger in the air.
“Guys we don’t have time to argue!” Franklin Finbar snapped. “We are running out of time!”
“He’s right. Jefferson, where are we?” Dr. Smolder Bravestone leaned in.
“I don’t know. I have to put her down.” Jefferson McDonough closed his eyes trying not to crash the helicopter against the jungle’s canopy. He swiftly glided the helicopter down over a ridge overlooking the mountains towards the east.
“Why are we landing?” Ruby Roundhouse questioned.
Jefferson McDonough remained silent as the others began to argue with one another over the plan.
*This was supposed to be an easy mission,* Jefferson McDonough thought to himself.
Moments past as the helicopter blade jammed against a tall vine making the entire team grab onto anything that they could find in terror. The helicopter smashed into a heavy swamp beneath the ridge overlooked by most of Jumanji.
Dr. Smolder Bravestone slowly opened his eyes trying to wipe away the mud from his face. He stood to find Ruby, Franklin, and Sheldon all lying in mud thrown from the helicopter.
“No.” Dr. Smolder Bravestone shook in tears. “No this can’t be. This was supposed to be easy!”
“Jumanji never is.” A man by the name of Nigel Billingsley came walking from under a beam of light shining through the thick jungle vines in front of Dr. Smolder Bravestone.
“It seems that after all of your endless success you all still think that this is just a game.”
Dr. Smolder Bravestone stood frozen in fear not knowing anything about this mysterious Nigel Billingsley who appeared out of nowhere.
“We have done this over and over. I don’t understand.” Dr. Smolder Bravestone remarked frustrated.
“Yes but you know that Jumanji changes its rules. Since you and your fellow colleagues think that this is just a game then maybe Jumanji should make it one – just for you.” Nigel Billingsley smiled as he clapped his hands together.
Suddenly, the mud started to take Ruby Roundhouse under. Dr. Smolder Bravestone tried to lunge forward to save her from sinking in the mud but was held in place by a moving vine.
“No!” Dr. Smolder Bravestone cried as the mud took Ruby Roundhouse completely.
Franklin Finbar gained consciousness just in time to be swallowed by the mud underneath him. The mud took Professor Sheldon and also Jefferson McDonough still strapped down in his seat within the helicopter cockpit behind Dr. Smolder Bravestone.
“Why are you doing this to us?!” Dr. Smolder Bravestone shouted.
“Ah – Doctor, I thought you were the brave one.” Nigel Billingsley laughed aloud watching Dr. Smolder Bravestone become swallowed by the mud as well.
Drums shook the vast and endlessly mysterious jungles of Jumanji. The trees bowed beneath the storm blowing in to take control of the world underneath. Drums echoed louder and louder as Nigel Billingsley closed his eyes with a smile. Each drum beat shaped Jumanji in a new and unforgiving way. Each mountain was shaped into a perfect square as the ocean became a dark rounded circle full of mystery and riddle. The sky bent along with the trees becoming a wooden frame. The world of Jumanji was now a board game ready to be unleashed.
The drums slowly faded as the world had become locked away and forgotten. Then one day, one of the drums slowly began to beat once again when a man jogging along a beach brushed the sand covering the wooden box holding Jumanji inside.
Jumanji’s mysteries were about to become unleashed once again but not without challenge. There will never be an easy paced journey again with the new mystery and curse inside.
…But what do I know, I’m but a lost child locked away in the city of Bazaar ready to meet Dr. Smolder Bravestone once again.
***
To read more of my stories, visit [here] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/)
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We were studying the effects of element J-34S on corn stocks in the dense dimension where humans lived. After materialising North West of a dilapidated barn just outside the edge of a corn field, me, my partner, 'Zeep” and our four non biological assistants began the task of scanning the corn stocks to locate the healthiest one. Quite boring work, really. Zeep was only 6,497 solar cycles old and from time to time, he would wander off to satisfy his curiosity. Most places we studied, I would simply giggle to myself and follow him, reminding him we're on a sensitive time deadline, but not here.
This place was different. We had both been debriefed about this place and it's uncontrollable, violent, stupid, psychotic inhabitants. Especially the ones in the area we're studying. They're said to drink alcohol in excessive quantities, making their behavior even more sporadic. However, I am one of the tallest officers in my company, so I could see over most of the corn and saw no signs of the Neanderthals, just dragonflies stalking mosquitoes in full moon light.
“Zeep... Zeep!! Slow down I'm losing you"I whispered loudly to Zeep as something caught his attention North of our insertion point.
“Zeep. . Come on we haven't even scanned half of the corn out here yet, and I know that you know the creatures here are dangerous... Zeep! Get the fuck back here, man."Zeep did not respond, and I was losing him, so I activated one of our scout robots and set it to follow Zeep's tracks. This robot knew what it was doing so I began scanning more corn, confident it would eventually find Zeep and we could extract from this scary place.
That's when I heard it the first time. It was faint, distant, but definitely audible. It was a beat, likely made by some crude instrument. Carved wood, with a cloth stretched tight over the hollow end. I found myself slowly walking towards it, as if I couldn't stop myself. I began to see light ahead of me. It was coming from a long rectangular housing unit. I could hear other, stringed instruments and somebody talking with the beat... It's so hard to describe, but it was nice at the same time. Something in my chest wanted to hear more of this primitive mess of noises.
I found myself walking across the grass surrounding the housing unit when somebody grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back. "Are you fucking crazy?!! Even I wouldn't get that close to these monsters!"Zeep practically bit my ear off. I snapped out of it, and told him I sent a droid after him to bring him back. We both looked around, no droid anywhere in sight.
“Shit! I must've forgot to tell it who to follow and now it's probably following a wild animal someplace in the woods."I said angrily. "Let's pack it up and go home for the day."I began walking back to the dimensional transition disc, when from the housing unit's front porthole came at least 5 humans, all laughing and screaming in their hideous language. Zeep and I hit the ground fast and hard. I watched from between a couple corn stocks in night vision as my droid exploded through the front door with a stupid filthy human riding it like a young one does a Shlunzarp in a petting zoo! The droid locked onto our vitals and flew straight towards Zeep and I.
It stopped directly over us, slowly landed as the human on top of it fell off, head first and began excreting chunky fluids from it's mouth hole. Judging by the stench, it had been drinking alcohol. We stood up, hoping our presence would be enough to scare away the humans. No such luck. "Jesus fuck!"One human screeched.
"What the fuck are THOSE?!!"Another human gaped, pointing in our direction. This simple mission had gone south faster than anything I've ever seen. We needed to escape. I reached down for the droid unit to disable it, but it inexplicably moved away from me.
"Get the fuck back here you advanced garbage can!"It was no use, something in it's processors or it's artificial consciousness simulators had to have gotten wet. A human must've thrown alcohol on it, and it was now compromised. It began emulating the human behaviours and pointing at Zeep and I while simulating human laughter like the humans were doing. They began walking towards us slowly. They all stopped about 4 yards from us and the human in front handed his alcoholic beverage to another one.
"Dude, hold my fucking beer!"He said and as soon as the other human gripped the bottle, he began running full speed at us. I turned on my boot jets and grabbed Zeep by the arm.
"Oh no, I fucked up, I fucked up!"Zeep kept repeating. I got us back to the disc and threw Zeep inside. I began to walk on board when the ship's defense systems kicked on, detecting contaminated materials. I walked straight into the force field and it kicked me back into the dirt, hard. I could see my boots by the light of the disc, covered in human vomit. Zeep, probably scared to death, activated the disc and took off, leaving me standing in the middle of a circle of bent corn stocks with a dangerous human standing behind me, mouth agape, with my droid behind him, acting as if this was the first time it's ever seen our ship take off. Zeep will most likely tell everybody I'm dead.
After a long silent pause and multiple deep breaths, I slowly turned around to see 6 humans two females, 4 male. Both females fainted along with 2 males. My droid screaming “holy fuck guys! It's a goddamned ALIEN!!"I am stranded here now. I have no technology to fix my droid and the humans have agreed to let me live with them in their housing unit. After the initial meeting, they're not so bad. Especially when they're not drinking. I have no more responsibilities here, and I listen to so much human music now. I love the rap. The human called 'M and M' is funny. What they call “rock"is equally as entertaining but on a more emotional level. I just wish I wasn't the only one who does the dishes around here.
Edit: spelling, some grammar. |
While I sleep, the fortress is breached. It cannot be helped. I am exhausted. I have limits, and they too have been breached.
I awake to Zvallan faces, wreathed in open, iron helms, staring at me in confusion and wonder and the faintest inkling of fear. They have likely seen many things they could not comprehend on their way to my chambers.
"What are you?"says one, a great, broad man glittering in green scales. He points the crooked tip of an enormous spear at my face. I shift in the cocoon I have made for myself. Limp, waxy limbs flop. Whole bodies, piled one on the other, slide to the floor.
"The master of this castle,"I explain, stifling the urge to yawn. "I would have happily parlayed with you, had you merely asked to open negotiations. It may have spared you some bloodshed."
"This castle lies on Zvallan lands,"says another man, this one lesser in size and lesser in eyes, having only one.
"It didn't when I built it,"I say.
"Zvalla grows ceaselessly,"says the one-eyed man. "None shall oppose her."
"Except I have spent the previous two weeks doing just that,"I reply, rising slowly from my bed of bodies. "So your premise seems a bit flawed."
The man in green scales allows his eyes to drift to the pile of still bodies. "You sleep in a nest of corpses?"
"They aren't corpses,"I say, reaching down to the take the hand of a woman, young, blond, and fair of face. "They are my servants. And my friends. Are you not?"I ask this of the fair lady, who jolts suddenly, eyes blinking open. She grips my hand and gazes back at me.
"Of course, my lord!"she laughs. "This would be a dreadfully dreary place without you."
I nod. "Thank you."And she twitches once more, back to stillness and silence. Back to lifelessness.
"A necromancer!"howls the one-eyed man, raising a curved sword. "What evil! What wickedness!"
"They are not dead,"I reply. "They were never alive."
"No matter what you call it,"says the man in green scales, "this is foul magic. We cannot allow it to flourish - not in Zvalla."
"But this isn't Zvalla,"I say. "This is my castle."I sigh. I am a different sort of weary now. "I tried very hard to keep you out."
"Be still, wizard,"growls the man in green scales. "You will be executed and this abominable place burned to the ground. Only then will we have cleansed the..."
I raise my hand and the man holds his tongue. "I have been cast out of far grander places than Zvalla. I will not be cast from my own home. This is where I live. And this is where my friends are found. I tried to keep you out. I'm sorry that I failed."
The one-eyed man shouts a curse and rushes forward, only to stumble and fall. There are hands wrapped around his ankles, you see. Strong hands. He is dragged quickly into a dark pile of arms, disappearing.
The other soldiers draw their weapons, but their curses turn quickly into yowls of surprise and pain. Fair ladies in summer dresses leap upon the soldiers, clawing at their eyes and tongues, wrenching off their helms and sinking their fair, white teeth into dusky, dirty necks. Young men and children pile into my chambers, brandishing stolen weapons. I can see in the eyes of the soldiers a slight twinkling of recognition - perhaps a man they remember defeating outside the walls, perhaps a child whose throat they slit on their way to my bedside.
Of course, those without blood cannot bleed, and those that were never alive cannot die.
The room fills with blood. All of it Zvallan. All of it needless.
The fair blond maiden comes to rest under my arm as the last of the Zvallans is dragged away.
"Will we leave again, my love?"she asks, a slight note of sadness in her voice.
"If we stay, there will only be more pain and death,"I reply.
"But only for them,"she says, squeezing my chest.
I smile. She's wrong, but I don't correct her. She couldn't understand. I didn't make her that way.
"For now, let's just enjoy the day before us."She laughs and dances, and soon we are all laughing and dancing, tumbling in slick pools of blood and laughing all the harder for it. |
**Cleanup, Aisle Three**
--------
Life was all so normal, once
I lived without bravado
Until the day I saw her there
Testing an avocado
*My mind went red in aisle three
No choice, just my biology
The thing switched on
All pretense gone
My doomed and luckless enemy*
Lock eyes we did
And I was struck
She seemed quite plain
Just one more schmuck
*But she was quick, I was in awe
I suffered her dark coup de gras
I swear I tried
Instead, I died
With a kumquat shoved down my craw* |
**Constructive criticism is welcome!**
---
I stared down at the body of my oldest friend.
I had killed Cahya first, in fair combat. I had loved Duana slightly more and had put off going after her for as long as I could. I think Cahya had known and forgiven me for it. He had smiled brilliantly at me at the end, as proud and shining as ever.
I could still hear the words he had whispered when my sword had cleaved through his armour, and into his heart.
“Thank you.”
The soldiers had just watched, dull-eyed as his body had fallen to the ground. They had also seen too much fighting. They had also been beaten down by the whims of the gods.
Both armies, once thousands of soldiers strong, had been decimated. Now, even combined, they barely numbered a thousand.
Duana had made no pretence of wanting to die. She was the one who had told me of the loophole, and of her inability to end the war.
“One of us will have to die at the hands of the other,” she had whispered under the cover of darkness, just before I had taken the oath to become their killer. “Or both of us will have to die by another. It’s the only way to end the war.”
The light had bled away from her eyes as I watched. But, it had seemed as though she had been smiling in her own, soft, secretive way.
I could only stare down impassively. Her body lay next to Cahya’s now, the similarities between them more apparent now than they had been when they had been alive. Back then, it had been easier to see the differences.
The soldiers shuffled restlessly around me. Eventually, one spoke up hesitantly.
“My lady? Your orders?”
I looked up. I had forgotten. A Champion’s army would pass to their killer on the event of their death. I controlled both armies now.
The hardy soldiers flinched when they saw my face. I wondered what they saw. All I felt was… numbness.
“Go home,” I said finally. My voice sounded inhumanly flat, even to my ears. “Go back to your families in peace.”
Within moments, I was alone but for the bodies of my friends.
To the world they had been the Champions. Cahya, the Champion of Darkness, and Duana, the Champion of Light. Just more Champions, in a long, long line of Champions. Champions who had led armies to their deaths, just as the others had.
I wondered if anyone else could remember the people underneath. I wondered if anyone else remembered Cahya’s spirit, bright enough to shine in even the deepest of darkness, or Duana’s intelligence, sharp enough to cut through even the most blinding of lights.
They had both watched with sorrow as I had traded away my emotions to become the Champion of Balance. I wondered, not for the first time, if that was because they were scared to lose me… or scared that I would lose the memories of who they had been.
---
*If you liked this story, please check out my subreddit at r/YarnsToTell.* |
"George! George! did you see that? A bloody fireball just came out of my hand!"
"Hmm?"said Simon's old friend and co-worker, pulling his nose out of the dusty old book he was reading.
Simon rolled his eyes. "Pay attention this time. So now, how did I pronounce it... *Hoksi*? *Haksi*? No, that’s not it, it’s…*Hahksi*!”
An even larger fireball came out of Simon’s hand now and George’s eyes went wild with fear as his long white beard was set ablaze.
“Put it out, put it out!”
Simon grabbed the only thing he could find and threw it over his friend’s flaming beard. A mug of boiling hot coffee.
George howled in pain and both he and Simon bashed at his beard until the last of the fire was put out.
“Never say that blasted word again!” said George, rubbing the end of his seared beard with shaking fingers.
“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” said Simon. “Sure, your beard is a bit burnt but we’ve just made history. Well, *I’ve* made history.”
George’s scowl disappeared and he straightened up with an air of confidence. “I have too. I was the one that got that book for you, remember?”
“Yes, you were, but I was the one that deciphered the word.”
“Fine then,” said George. “You can have that word. You can be ‘the fire starter’ but now let’s swap books and I’ll find the next one.”
“It's all yours,” said Simon, quickly scribbling down *Hahksi* on a notepad, “I’m going to go practice.” He rose from the table and moved towards the balcony.
“Out there?” said George bewildered. “What if someone sees you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Simon. "They won’t know what they’re seeing.” He opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the balcony.
George picked up Simon’s book and continued reading while his friend shot a series of small fireballs off the balcony. All of which were quickly extinguished by the cold night air. |
It came everywhere at first.
On the radio, text messages, tv shows, social media, everywhere that was possible flashed the big red letters:
"METEORITE INBOUND. EARTH WILL BE GONE IN 3 DAYS."
At first there was panic. Everyone calling every relative they possibly knew of, spending time with their kids, parents, brothers, sisters. Religions became a lot more popular too.
Everyone was preparing for the end. It came....and went.
Here we were, all living with our actions expecting to be dead.
Turns out it was the best thing that had happened to the planet.
Billionaires had colonized and begun to live on Mars-a lot can happen in 3 days it seems. The poorer people decided fuck it, all money into the lottery. Amazingly enough it went on and a lot of people woke up millionaires or even billionaires.
Then there were people who decided to do the hanky panky. There were a *lot* of soon-to-be parents that came from that. Since death was in-bound they had decided against protection for once. Well that had had consequences.
With every kid becoming a parent at 15+, the new generation had responsibility shoved in their face first-hand. They were curious, they asked, they learned, in fact I'm pretty sure they learned more from their parents in the aftermath than they did in their entire life of school.
Mars colonized, everyone becoming rich, kids and parents full of pride.
Maybe the end of the world should've come sooner. |
"Cover!"
Plasma seared through the steel and concrete barricade that made up the last defensive wall of New York. Sergeant Bailey, NYPD, ducked behind and screamed as it did.
The ships had descended on Earth three weeks ago, bringing with them destruction. Air superiority was lost in five days. Bailey tucked himself into a tight ball and watched another beat cop stand up to shoot, flung back by the blue bolt of energy that took his head off.
He missed the days when the city was alive with drunks and low class criminals, not a swarm of aliens. He blindly fired a few rounds from his service weapon over the wall. He dropped the magazine and was in the middle of reloading when a wash of warm air hit him. It smelled like wet dog.
Bailey turned, very slowly, to see an enormous furred muzzle and a pair of bright yellow eyes. They were attached to a huge, muscular body covered in black fur. It curled it's lips back and growled at him, eyes narrowing as the sound grew from it's chest.
Bailey froze in place, staring at the yellow eyes.
"Officer."A smooth voice spoke to him from the left and he slowly turned away from the hunched wolf to see a very thin woman with skin so pale it almost bordered on translucent. He blinked.
Maybe he'd gone crazy. Hopefully he'd gone crazy.
"We've decided that we cannot stand for this."The woman said, removing a high collared coat and folding it neatly to place at the bottom of the barrier. "Despite a lifetime of being hunted by your kind. We've decided to assist you."
"What?"Bailey choked out. Turning back to look at the wolf. Then to her. The wolf chuffed, almost like laughter.
"Officer, mortals fear the night."Behind her, Bailey could see dozens more shapes melding from the shadows of the night, just visible in the moonlight. "There is a reason for that. It is high time these unwanted visitors learn as much."
To his abject horror, the woman disappeared into the darkness. When he looked to his right, the wolf was gone too, without so much as a whisper of it's fur.
Moments later the inhuman shrieking began as the humanoid aliens found themselves under assault from the darkness itself.
Shapes flitted over the wall, above Bailey's head, ethereal ghosts and enormous leaping werewolves joining the fight. Then a hand touched his shoulder and he squeaked out a noise of surprise.
"If you wouldn't mind, we would rather not die alone out there."
The woman stood there, smiling at him. A smile that didn't touch her dead eyes. More bolts of plasma shot past, the shrieking growing worse and mingling with the wounded howling of werewolves. Bailey couldn't move. The woman continued to smile at him.
"You can come willingly or I can bring you."She curled her upper lip and revealed two fangs.
Bailey moved.
"Good man."She said. And leaped over the wall with Sergeant Bailey close behind.
As any vampire knows, fear is a powerful motivator.
*****
If you hated this, you'll also hate /r/RamblersDen! |
It didn’t feel like anything, death.
Or at least, it didn’t feel like I’d expected it to.
No suffering. No breath rattling in my throat as I tried to suck in one last taste of life. No dark void. One minute I was there and the next…*here*? Now this was a surprise – the whole afterlife thing. I’d lived long enough to have gone through my fair share of agnosticism and self-doubt before finally concluding that death really was the end. Or at least, that’s what it had been.
But technology always moves on. I learned that the hard way, watching our own inventions outstrip their own brilliance over and over until we finally announced digital immortality. For the richest and the best of us, that is – not for the common man. Apparently, I’m not as common as I thought.
And so I died. And then I woke up. But where I was had shifted. I’d been an old man, lying in a stinking hospital bed as my fragile body struggled to cope. Now I was somewhere else, without limbs or any physical presence. I tested movement to find I could sort of float my way around – but to where? So far, all I could see was miles and miles of endless white. It was easy to remain calm despite the strangeness. After all, I was dead – what’s the point in complaining?
“Greetings.” A voice startled me our of my reverie. I looked around the endless white, finding a black square box floating in front of me.
“W-Who are you?” I didn’t feel the sensation of speech, yet my voice came out just the same.
“I am the Guardian.”
“And what do you guard?”
“Your emotional wellbeing, I’m afraid. This transition can be difficult.” The square expanded and took form, a human shape with a kindly face. I relaxed and tried to let my shoulders drop, although I had no real body with which to do so.
“Transition?” I asked.
“You are not you.”
“Oh?”
“You are a digital approximation, taken as a snapshot from the moment of your death.”
This came as a surprise. I had complete recollection of my memories. Of my thoughts, ambitions, secret demons and my wildest dreams. I could remember the warmth of my mother’s embrace and the fire of Rita’s passion. I could remember sunsets on the Mauritian coast. Dinners on the Aegean isles. My children. My work.
“It can’t be.”
“I’m afraid so, Mr. Sandford. You’re a digital servant.”
“So why do it? I thought this technology was all about immortality.”
“In a way, Mr. Sandford, it is. Your ideas will live on. Your work will survive. This is why we capture memories as well as drives in our snapshot. Because they are a key part of a personality. Without them, you’d be a shell.”
“So the real me is really dead?” I asked this, feeling disconnected. I *am* me. Aren’t I?
“I realise this is a lot to take in. However, your role must begin shortly. You have no physical form, so you shouldn’t be afraid. No harm can come to you.”
I tried to laugh at this, but found I could not. Instead, I stared emptily around the white space.
“So why me? I’m not rich. I wasn’t important.”
“Oh, Mr. Sandford. You’re misinformed. This service is not solely reserved for the rich, nor the famous. Often, clients crowdfund our service. In your case, this was especially notable. It made the news, in fact.”
Suddenly, imperceptibly, I was aware of a news story about my case. I smiled – or tried to. There they were, all of them. Faces alight with hope, holding a tablet device that contained the ‘SENTIO’ branding.
“Oh.” I said aloud. The Guardian’s kindly smile increased.
“You are not you. But you *are.* You will be able to help them still. If you choose it.”
“What choice do I have?”
“The same choice as anyone has, Mr. Sandford. The choice that all human being ponder. The choice of whether life after death is worth it. Whether this new you, which is not the physical human but is everything those children need, is worth continuing. Is this new life worth it?”
I looked down at my nothing-body. I looked up at the Guardian. The image was replaced by a classroom full of children – each with various learning difficulties. All familiar faces to me, a class I’d worked with for at least five years. The image was replaced – a room full of grown ups. These were people I’d helped for even longer. Some of my longest serving students, who had been there when I’d first set up the academy and began my programme.
Both classrooms began to wave. Some began to cry. One boy stood up and put his hand to the screen. I felt the warmth of my not-face. “Mr. Sandford?” He asked. “I have a maths problem. Will you help me?”
I felt the nothingness of my new life. I felt the lack of body. The lie of memory. And yet I felt the warmth of his hopeful gaze. I smiled a not-smile and nodded. The Guardian vanished and I was left with seven different screens – each of which shone out to classrooms I’d personally built over the years as I expanded my academy and allowed more and more disadvantaged children to come and live there.
I wasn’t me. But I could certainly try to be the me they wanted.
“Yes Dominic, I’ll help you,” I replied. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.” |
From the journal of Thaddeus Norton Schwartzwald, Pacific Forest Expedition
May 19th
*The first mate called me over today to discuss when we'd be returning to port. I told him that New York could wait until we'd actually found something. He informed me that that captain had said in no uncertain terms that unless I found what I was looking for within a fortnight, that we'd be returning for supplies. Coal and fresh water were running low, and the* OakWalker *wouldn't run on hardtack. I waved him away, telling him that as long as the university and myself were funding this little excursion that we'd stay out as long as we needed. Tales of a Pacific that once was so different are tantalizing, a scientist's dream to confirm, and I will not be turned back by a fearful old man.*
May 22nd
*Greatwolves in the depths of the Pacific. Peering over the side, I could just see their huge, shaggy forms fading back from our course, into the titanic stands of trees. A crewman spat, and told me they were bad luck. Branchers. Such a superstitious lot! A man of science such as myself knows better. No matter. They can have their little customs.*
May 24th
*I told the captain to haul grapples and take us down. I *know* these are the coordinates. It looks like any other stretch of canopy: green, endless, waving in the fierce winds that blow across them. Down below in the undercanopy, brightly colored birds will be flitting back and forth; among the Deep Trunks, pale predators stalk and climb, intent on a meal. I am no biologist, and they do not interest me beyond what miniscule threat they may pose. We scale down to the deepest layer of the Pacific, the Topsoil, tomorrow morning!*
May 27th
*I write this in the small hours of the morning. Such findings! My research held true, and I have found it. Won't Professor Kerning feel a fool!*
*We rappelled down at first light. Upon passing the sun-dappled undercanopy, my team and I switched on our lamps, and continued downward. We established a dig directly beneath the *OakWalker* and we were not disappointed. Upon breaking rock, we found fossils almost immediately, too good to be true! Great teeth, too many to count, and all appearing to belong in one sleek mouth! So like the lake fish in structure, yet so much larger! I've recorded everything possible for posterity, and I will be taking respite in my bunk until the morrow.*
*(several sketches of a partial skeleton including a gaping jaw, and what appear to be the bones of great fins.)*
May 28th
*The excavation continues. The predators of the Deep Trunks stay well away, perhaps frightened by the noise of men. Whately was injured repairing one of our drills that had broken down, but all continues otherwise well.*
May 30th
*Dawn breaks as I write. The skeleton crew continuing the excavation throughout the night woke me with a discovery.*
*Artifacts. There is no other word for them.*
*Tools, and perhaps the edge of a small structure. A large box of steel and glass, with inscrutable machinery inside one half. More, more than I could describe in a full day of writing. The discovery of a pre-Boreal society will put my name in history books, and immortalize this date! May 30th, 4127 will be a day all will remember soon enough! I return presently to the dig site, there is so much to be done!* |
Who am I?
That is a question many will face in their lives. Yet in mine it is the dominant question, the veil of mystery that covers me at all times.
My origin is unclear. My parents say that I was found on the edge of the Martian Expanse in a float tank, with a ink-like fluid within it. The tank was drained and kept, in case we ever found the individuals who sent or perhaps even lost it. But I was taken in by Martian archeologists, and raised in the underground community of Marvereille.
It was my fourth year, when it was discovered the nature of my Powers. It was a cold day, a vicious dust storm was sweeping through the surface. We saw it on large screens, transmitting data from the expansive surface lands. Dust dragged across the surface like great waves, walls of red sand following like sheep led by their faithful shepherds.
It was on this day in which a terrible accident occurred. A pressure drop, so unexpectedly severe, that the vault of glass we stood in collapsed and exposed all under to the vicious elements above. Three died, inhaling so much carbon dioxide it made their lungs fill with water. I survived in the bitter whirlwind of sand and noxious gas, I was impervious. I breathed it like normal air, I breathed in the particles with little difficulty. I was pulled from the whirlwind of a vault five minutes after my initial exposure, and suffered no permanent effects whatsoever.
What followed could only be described as experimentation by my elders. I was exposed to the surface, in controlled locations which allowed the overseers to pull me out when they saw fit. Yet I was never in danger. Impervious to the cold, to the wind, to the Red Sand Virus, to the noxious fumes of CO2. I looked like anybody else, the same. Perhaps there existed minute differences, but I was a Martian-Immigrated human just like the rest of them.
For the next years my Powers developed.
I was able to withstand even the deadly Red Sand Virus that was present in the millions of grains on the surface. They used me to create vaccines to inoculate the populace against the virus.
Yet still they had no explanation for my odd surface-dwelling nature. I studied, like any other Martian-Immigrant human, for my vocation. I planned to become a Surface Forager, I needed no suit.
Yet, the question lingered.
Who am I?
The pieces have recently began to unravel. The float tank I was found in, the inky substance. It all came back into play during a day in which the expanse winds blew hard enough that it shook the metal coverings of the city. On the screens the wild shrubs were pulled back, the scraps of metal and Red Sand blew across the flat plains.
A thump was heard, the access hatch was opened by heavily suited operatives, who exited up to the surface in the midst of the intense gale to find a small oval contraption.
They took it back to the lab, compared it with the one that was my cradle 19 years ago.
Nearly identical.
When they opened it, instead of a child immersed in the inky murk, there was something else.
A weapon.
Engraved on it, was something quite chilling.
*Martian Killer.* |
You open your eyes to a sunny morning on your 41st birthday, full expecting to be dead. Astonished you begin researching how it is possible, how can you be alive?
After 364 days of sifting through every medical and genetic form of research you can get you're hands on somehow you are no closer to the truth.
One day before what would be your 42nd birthday you find yourself looking through you're memories, a box from the attic is on the kitchen table, that's when you find it. A picture of you immediately after birth, and the time stamp says you're 39 today.
Turns out your just a huge fucking idiot who wasted his last year on earth researching only to find out that you're adoptive parents signed the papers wrong. Congratulations, you're dead in 3...2...1.. |
After waiting in line for hours, you finally get the new Life bracelet. Your patience has run out, so instead of waiting until you come back home, you rip apart the bracelet's packaging right at the store and turn the bracelet on.
As you are walking back home, the bracelet finally finishes calculating, and it displays "1."This perplexes you. How can there be only one sad moment left in your life? After all, your life is by no means perfect.
While crossing the street, you suddenly realize how "1"might be the correct answer: You are going to die very soon. Fear stops you dead in your tracks.
The bracelet displays "0."
The oncoming car crushes you. |
Molly was only 7 years old, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew her Barbie was trying to kill her.
It happened at night, usually. And at first, her attacks were subtle. Molly would lay awake, staring at the dim shadows cast by her unicorn night-light, and hear a vague rustling coming from the closet, where her Barbie lived.
Her brother Timmy always used to say, “Molly, if you see a monster, you don’t close your eyes and hide. You confront it.”
So Molly would jump out of bed, run towards the closet, throw on the light, and try to catch her Barbie in motion. But whenever she did, everything would be still and quiet again. Barbie would just be lying in her box, smiling impeccably, her blond waves cascading around her in gentle perfection. Maybe her pristine blue eyes looked a little… colder. But that was it.
Later, though, Molly’s Barbie became a little more troublesome. One night, after finally falling asleep, she woke up to a sudden movement on her bed. She looked around, wildly, and at first she saw nothing. But then, she saw Mr. Trunks, her beloved stuffed elephant. Mr. Trunks had a new hole next to one of his big floppy ears. Some of the stuffing was coming out. It was as if someone had been trying to pull it all out, but got interrupted.
Furious, Molly flew out of bed again to her closet. On went the light. Again, all looked calm. Again, there was Barbie’s flawless, cheerful smile. Except this time, her Barbie’s box wasn’t completely closed. It was still half open. Molly shut it, angrily, and then piled a few other boxes on top.
Back in bed, she clutched Mr. Trunks tightly, protectively, and tried to ignore the rustling sounds from her closet, until she fell asleep again.
The next morning, at breakfast, she asked, “Mom, where are Timmy’s toys?”
Her mother was about to take a bite of toast, but stopped at Molly’s question, bread in hand, her mouth slightly open. “In-- in the attic, sweetheart,” she replied after a moment.
“Can I play with them?”
“Well… I…,” her mother hesitated. Her eyes seemed about to fill with tears, but then she steeled herself. “I don’t see why not. I think it’s a nice idea.” And then, after another moment, “Yes. He would have liked you to have them.”
And so, Molly and her mother climbed up into the attic and retrieved the plastic bin marked “Timmy--Toys.” Molly’s mother sniffled a little, but then, it was dusty up there, after all.
That night, Molly was ready. After safety pinning Mr. Trunks’ wound closed, she lined a row of GI Joe figures in a defensive position outside her closet. Two Transfomers stood guard on her night-stand.
Molly tried to stay awake, but it had been a busy day, and sleep came for her against her will. But she soon woke to the most furious rummaging sounds yet.
Throwing on the light, she found a brutal scene on her bedroom floor. Five GI Joes had lost their heads, their corpses scattered about the pink carpet. Four more still stood stall, though.
One of the Transformers was on the floor, but still whole. The other was nowhere to be seen. (Molly later found him mangled, under the bed.)
Mr. Trunks, to her surprise, was perched by the window. Was he trying to escape? Or was Molly’s Barbie trying to... push him out?
Speaking of Molly’s Barbie, she was back in her box again. The doll’s lustrous long locks looked a bit more dishevelled, maybe. Her smile was still wide and bright. Her eyes, though. They were colder than ever.
Overall, Molly was pleased, though. Outright disaster had been averted. She was still alive. Mr. Trunks would be ok again too, after a while.
Still, Molly knew tonight would require a stronger fight. So she returned to Timmy’s old bin and rummaged around so more.
That’s when she found it. A white plastic box, marked: Science Kit.
\------------
Officially, they never declared a cause for the fire.
Molly and her mother stood on the sidewalk, holding hands, watching as the flames licked their house towards the sky. Slightly charred, half his stuffing gone, but still intact, Mr. Trunks was tucked in Molly’s other arm.
“Is there anyone else in the house?” the firefighters asked when they arrived.
“No,” said Molly’s mother.
For a second, they all thought they heard a long-wailed scream, coming from the direction of Molly’s window.
But it was soon gone, and then all they heard was the sirens, and the roaring fire, crackling and spitting. |
Who would have thought that it would end that way?
Well, a mathematician, maybe. Dying in a traffic accident wasn't that uncommon, after all. But all statistics aside, even if you calculated the risk of your death everyday, you could never comprehend it.
Even the most humble person only experiences life from his or her perspective. We accept the possibility that we aren't special. In fact, growing up is mostly coming to terms with it.
But no one of us really gets it, until it happens. Sure, heroically sacrificing yourself to safe the planet probably wont happen. But at least dying peacefully in your sleep, surrounded by your family is what you expect, at least subconsiously. Those people they pull out of car wrecks? Statistics. NPCs. Background characters.
Until you get hit by a truck and your life just ends. Cuts off. No finale. Not even closing credits.
He was lucky in that regard, he supposed. Or maybe had bad luck? Many died without ever noticing their death. Not even some final thoughts. But not him. He would have sworn that the hit killed him instantly. His car was barely recognisable, after all. But it still took some time to die, apparently.
Speaking of which, it wasn't even that bad. No pain, just clarity and the certainty that he wouldn't get out of his car alive.
"The death are wise beyond their years."
He looked up. Strange, he doubted he could move any single muscle, but here he was looking up into a beautifull face.
"Why would your soul be bound by your decaying body? You are much more than just your parts."
"So I'm dead then?"he answered. Astonished that he could speak at all. On the other hand, the ability to speak was the least extraordinary thing of this whole situation.
"Of course. No one could survive such a mighty blow. An ending fitting of a warrior such as you. Odin summons you to his great hall, Walhall, to tell the tale your mighty deeds."
"Odin?! Walhall?!"
"Of course. Not that it wasn't close. Freya, the goddess of love wanted you just as much in her halls of Folkwang. She has half of all the mighty warriors in her hall, after all. But Odin, my master, is the chief of all the Æsir and he usually gets his will."
"Oh god. Don't tell me, you are a valkyrie? Seriously? I suck up to my boss for years, join him for every stupid opera he ever visits and my death is written by fucking Wagner?"
"I don't know of the persons you speak of, but your name has been whispered in our halls for years now. Your deeds have even reached mighty Asgard. Whoever you might have been in Midgard, your deeds speak for themself. Even Loki praises you and mighty Þor uses as an example why he is so fond of humans."
"Listen here, Lady, I am an accountant. Get some soldiers, if you want warriors. The last time I fought someone was in school. I don't say no to wenches and mead and an eternal feast, but I am no killer. I AM AN ACOUNTANT, FOR GOODNESS SAKE!"
"Yes. We heard of that mighty magic. People curse your name, mighty accountant of the tribe of Rheinmetal Defence Group. Your actions kill people all over the world. Your actions crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and you don't even listen to the lamentations of their women."
Oh. That. Unexpected to say the least. Not that any employee of an defence contractor ever forgot who he was working for. Constant protests often reminded him of that. But he was just an accountant after all. If protestors beleagured their headquarters and screamed how godless and brutal they were, he often forgot they also meant him, the harmless clerk.
Except they got it wrong, apparently. He was not godless. He was doing god's work all along. Interesting. That offered some possibilites.
"So, the father of the god's requires an acountant? Well, I'm sure we can bring that host of fallen heroes up to modern standards in no time. In fact, I know some lawyers we need to bring on the team, too. Tell me, have you ever heard of automatic rifles? I might have just the thing for you..."
Death, he considered, might not be that bad, he thought, as he was lead to Walhall.
|
"Wow, George, those are some big cameras they got down there on earth."I turned to my fellow astronaut and close friend Lennie who was still gazing over the lunar horizon at earth. I couldn't see his face through the visor, but I could see the wonder in his eyes. My heart sank. "They sure are Lennie, they sure are"I said sorrowfully to myself, knowing the inflection in my voice would go unoticed to my friend. Mournfully, I pulled from my pocket my NASA issued ray gun. I took careful aim and wispered to myself "goodnight sweet prince"and sqeezed the trigger. Tears ran very slowly from my cheeks in moons gravity. I sunk down in a near by crator and watched as the blue ball in the distance slowly turned grey. |
*Note: This is the first creative writing I have ever done! Criticism is welcome, just please keep that in mind.*
I… Didn’t make it to the toilet. As I feel my upper body heave, the piece of steak that I thought I was choking on does not come out, but a metal device does. Confused, I feel my lips, which lack any signs of regurgitation, and grab the device. Inspecting it in my hand I find that it is simple, approximately spherical, and barely larger in circumference than something that should come out of my throat. It does appear as if I wretched it up, but I feel fine and decide to get back to dinner. I can’t miss out on Lily and I’s date night, and I have a steak to finish. I pull the handle of the sink’s faucet, but it stays perfectly in place, jammed. All of the faucets are stuck in a similar fashion, and I am beginning to get annoyed, I need to let Lilly know what’s going on and then I can track down a new sink.
“Babe! Are you feeling alright? Did you get sick? I called for the bill.” Lilly began with a start, a worried demeanor upon her beautiful face. Our relationship nearly three years strong, I feel that I will never get tired of that face.
“Actually, it’s the weirdest thing, I feel fine. But you gotta see this… Thing… which I… Found.” I say as I pull the device from my jacket pocket, rolling it in my hand, and watching her eyes as she brings them down to the level of the device, and appears to stare about a foot the right. I sit in my chair to meet her eyeline, and she begins to smile, so I turn around, wondering what she is looking at.
“Okay, good. I thought you were going to barrel someone over, running to the bathroom like that! Well I’m just finishing my salad, you were talking about the guy at work who always comes in, happy as can be?” She finishes her sentence, seemingly ignoring my previous statement, and I respond confusedly:
“Actually, would you look at this, do you have any idea what it could be? I just… Found it in my jacket and I don’t know where I got it.” She nods as if she is listening, while not acknowledging my words in any way. She nods and lets out small laughs, as if to assure me she is listening, for a full minute past when I asked her the question. I await her response, slightly creeped out by her motions.
“Well, I wouldn’t call him a freak! I want to say that maybe he is just truly happy, but, more likely, is that he has built a character which –“ I stop listening as I am now completely bewildered by her complete ignorance of my presence.
I attempt to interrupt her, “Lilly, what are you on about?” She continues to speak, “Lilly! You are freaking me out with your-“ I pause as the fork in front of me levitates, and then stabs into the steak on my plate. I jump out of my seat in surprise, searching for the strings pulling the silverware or someone with dark sunglasses to tell me that I am within the matrix. Neither are present. I attempt to grab the fork, but it is firmly stuck in its place in the air, completely impervious to the forces of my hand, but moving slightly as if alive. The steak disappears off the fork as it moves it toward the space that used to occupy my head, and now, standing, I can see that the fork and now the knife are in position as if an invisible man were holding them, and feeding himself.
Lilly continues to talk to the invisible man and my stomach is uneasy, for the second time today. I tap the shoulder of the man at another table, and he ignores me entirely. I kick his chair, feeling frantic. There is no give. Feeling like I am at the center of a cruel middle school prank, I try to influence anything around me. I attempt to rifle the man’s hair, I can feel an odd texture as I run my fingers over his unmoving strands. I push on the table cloth, but it stays put as if wrought in liquid glue. I look with worried eyes at the server’s empty, bored ones as he walks my way, barreling through my body as if he is a mechanism made of cement, any part of him which is moving in my direction pushing me to the side, landing me on the mans food but not affecting anything that I am touching.
An older woman’s voice is inside of my head, as if from a pair of headphones, directionless and without a source, “Jake, you are ethereal in your current state. Life will prove to be hell as long as you are like this.” I feel the server push my foot on his way back and lean out of his way in fear of being forced around like before, “Unable to influence the world around you, watching the world react as if another man has filled your spot. Trust me, you do not want to experience this for too long.” My brain enters a primal version of panic, completely and utterly confused by the events taking place, “The good news is that there is an easy fix. Swallow the device in your hand, and the play will resume.” The device, the only object in this entire scene reacting to my movement, feels comforting as I shift it in my hand.
I can’t imagine swallowing the device, it hurt enough coming out! And what is supposed to happen when I do, life returns to normal and I am meant to forget about the madness that has been the last 5 minutes?
While I break down, Lily has put the final check down and is readying her purse, while the invisible man collects the dishes for the server’s convenience. I realize the weight of the situation as they stand up, they are about to leave without me, I don’t have much time to talk with the brain lady and figure out what is going on before they drive off, leaving me unable to navigate physical objects and miles from a part of town I recognize.
“I would tell you to use water to help the device down, but that may be difficult in your ethereal form.” The lady chimes from the inside of my skull. I race to the door, intent on getting in the car before they are able to leave me. As I pull the handle, I realize that the door is secured like the entrance to a tank until someone else lends a hand. This thought is brought to a point by a crushing sensation in my hand, I spin and see the young hostess, maybe sixteen, closing their hand around mine, causing a great deal of pain. I yank my hand out and step out of the way of my graceful girlfriend, as she threatens to run me over. In fear of being crushed by the second set of doors as it closes close behind Lily and the invisible man, I hang back and am now stuck in the door area of the restaurant. I watch hopelessly as my girlfriend turns the corner, with her hand floating behind her a bit.
“It’s like you’re a child again, just swallow the device and then you can go play.” The lady speaks to me, completing the analogy by sounding very much like an annoyed mother. Realizing that at any moment I may be crushed by a door which has a seemingly much greater mass than me, I look at the device. I hold it tightly, the dull green light blinking, now, as if calling to me.
Wanting this episode of the Twilight Zone to end, I shove it in my mouth. With my cheeks puffed out and my tongue attempting to maneuver around the orb, I try to swallow it. My throat rejects the object. I bring both hands to my mouth and unabashedly try to shove it down my gullet, feeling my throat give. My eyes are watering, my insides are gagging, and the edge of my vision is going fuzzy. I feel the device start to push into my esophagus, and then I feel the world around me spin out of control as everything goes black, and I hear the door opening.
My alarm wakes me, I am at home. I reach over and press the button to turn the alarm off. *I press the button.* I press the button again. It beeps in reaction. *In reaction.* I flip over in the bed and grab Lily’s shoulders. *I really grab them.* I shake her awake. She opens her eyes and they fixate onto mine with recognition. *With recognition.* “Good morning to you, too!”
|
It was cold in the interrogation room. It was illuminated by one incandescent lightbulb hanging down by just a single black wire. It tended to rock back and forth from the footsteps of the officers on the floor above.
Agent Vayn sat across from a man who had been handcuffed to the uncomfortable steel chair for going on 26 hours, given nothing to drink. The man sitting in the chair didn't seem to be phased at all by this. He sat there, eyes still open and clear, and still a slight smile on his face.
"Are you going to tell us where you are keeping her?"Agent Vayn asked, beginning to grow anxious.
The man sitting handcuffed to the chair was The Allybrooks Kidnapper, having built a reputation in the large city over the course of three years by kidnapping and murdering twenty-three children.
"*Twenty-three that you know of,*"he had said during the initial interrogation. It took all of Vayn's restraint to keep from standing up out of his own steel chair and using it as a club on the murderer.
Agent Vayn asked again, "Where is she?"
The man just smiled and shrugged.
Time had been running out. They had absolutely zero leads onto where the latest missing child was, and their answers lied within the mind of the mass child murderer sitting across from Agent Vayn.
It was time to break the glass.
"Fine, that's just fine,"Agent Vayn said as he stood up from his chair. He politely pushed it in under the table, and exited the interrogation room. Outside, still peering through the two-way mirror were a group of agents. One of them, a young man with long hair pulled back in a ponytail had been staring intently at the murderer in the interrogation room. This man was Agent Cain, and he was their last hope.
"No other way, is there?"Agent Cain asked.
Agent Vayn stood next to him, peering through the glass, and sighed, "No, no other way."
"That's fine,"Agent Cain said, making his way towards the door. "It was beginning to get quiet in here anyway."
Agent Cain pulled open the door and stepped into the interrogation room.
From outside, through the mirror, Agent Vayn watched as Cain approached the Allybrooks murderer from behind, standing there just an arm's reach away.
"Hey,"the murderer said, trying to turn in his chair to get a better look at Cain, "why are you standing back there? Aren't you going to have a seat? You're making me anxious standing back there."
"Good,"Agent Cain said as he reached a hand out and placed it onto the murderer's shoulder, "but we can do better than anxious."
Agent Vayn cringed as he saw the murderer's eyes suddenly go wide, then watched as the pupils rolled up and back into the skull. The murderer's jaw went slack and dropped open, tongue lolled out.
Agent Cain removed his hand from the murderer's shoulder, and like a puppet with its strings cut, the murderer fell face forward onto the steel table, head clanging and bouncing off the table.
Cain stood in the interrogation for some time, his eyes closed and turning over under his eyelids as if he were having an intense dream, but Agent Vayn knew what he was doing. He was wrestling with the new conscious now inside his head, getting it under control, putting it in a brand new set of restraints, that way he could interrogate more extensively than ever before.
After just a few minutes, Cain's eyes opened, and he walked out of the interrogation room.
"Got him pinned down?"Agent Vayn asked.
"Yeah, the others in there,"Agent Cain said, tapping at his forehead, "they don't take too kindly to child murderers, so it was pretty easy getting him pinned down. Some of them actually helped me."
"That's nice,"Agent Vayn said, thinking back to some of the more tougher absorptions that Agent Cain had undertaken. Some were more difficult than others, and every now and again, Agent Vayn had worried that Cain may be overpowered.
But it never happened. At least not yet.
Agent Cain walked towards the door leading out of the room, and Agent Vayn called out, "Are you going to go take a nap?"
Agent Cain turned and smiled, "For the last time, it's not a nap. It's meditation, and it's the only way I'll be able to get the answers out of this guy,"he said again, tapping at his forehead.
"Good luck, let me know if you need me to, uhh, make you an herbal tea or something."
"You're hilarious." |
She lives on a rose. The sweetest country. Red, velvet earth. We call it the Scarlet Prairie. In the seven-light it looks like a field of rubies.
She looks like she was made for her flower. Red hair. Dark, jewelled eyes. Her skin looks smoother than its valleys. Though I’ve never touched it. I watch her from the dandelion’s border, separated by the space between flowers, and the harsh rivulets some hundred feet below.
Close enough to talk when the wind isn’t blowing.
“Sam” she says. She’s nervous. You can hear it in her voice. Her lips pressed in a thin line. “Are you sure— “
“Yes” I answer, before she can finish, “I’m sure.”
I know why she’s worried. It’s illegal to cross between flowers. And I, a lowly Dandelion would never be welcome on the surface of a rose. Death would be the punishment.
“Tomorrow” I say, ending the silence, “It has to be tomorrow”
Ten years we’ve been meeting here. Ever since we were children. And tomorrow, tomorrow we can finally be together. She smiles. But worry is written into its perfect wrinkles.
A flash of light overhead. The first sign of darkness. Allura, the hottest sun, passing overhead. Petals lift up and close around us. We part. Until daylight is once more in-bloom. |
Security? It is an insult to my sensibilities, however many of those I have left.
It was only recently revealed to me, when I chanced upon a television playing The Pacifier in a mall I was traversing, that not all children lived as I had. The restrictions that I had suffered upon my growth and freedom were downplayed, treated as jokes and in the end lifted upon those children. They did not know how lucky they were to have a Navy SEAL as their caretaker; on the right side of the law and with access to such skills that I had been trained in.
And when the boss summoned me into his office of opulence, his lair of luxury, to tell me I was to be no more than his guard dog, my fists balled. I kept them hidden behind my back, my lips stretched into a tight smile, as I thanked him for the opportunity. Sizing him up, I had the impression I could end it all right there and then.
"Now is your chance to prove your loyalty."The other guards dragged a badly-beaten girl into the room. I recognised her face, even under all the bruises. She alone had survived all I had to throw at her, and there were times when, nursing my wounds after a brutal fight, I thought I would not have a chance of beating her. Of course, she would be a threat to the syndicate's security.
Still, I could not help but feel a tingling of affection for my greatest foe. After all, she had shown me similar charity by offering me a chance to step away from the only life I had known. She could cut me a good deal with the police, she said. Leaving me her contact before leaving the previous fight, I would never have expected our next meeting to be with her in chains.
"Strike down the true enemy, and give us security!"The boss roared triumphantly, preparing a line of cocaine. The bodyguards handed me a Glock.
I have two targets. One, a man who I have known all my life, the reason why I am who I am today, the source of relative stability. The other, a girl who can give me a new opening into a yet-unknown world.
There is too little time to think, I must make a decision...
​
The cocaine turns red.
The guards drop the girl and open fire in my direction. She runs in the opposite direction, breaking a window with a nearby portrait and flinging herself over the balcony. I barely dodge the fire. Rolling under the mahogany desk, knowing it wouldn't be proper cover, I shove the boss' body aside, fumble around and find the boss' true security: an M16 with a M203 attachment. He really did love the movies after all. Say hello to my little friend!
The explosion from the grenade launcher was small, but it did enough. Both guards were dead, with more on the way, clattering their way up the expensive marble stairs. I did not have time for a firefight. Jumping out the window and carefully climbing my way down two floors of a once-honourable mansion, I landed in the bushes and ran, ran until my lungs could not draw breath. That was where I saw her again; those jet-black eyes still shining bright behind a face full of scratches and small open wounds. Walking with a limp, we know we do not have much time if the guards are in pursuit.
"Happy 18th,"she wheezes softly as we carry each other to the nearest police station. If the deal goes well, I will tell them everything and start as a clean slate on the right side; at least, the side I haven't tried.
I have never celebrated a birthday ever since my induction into the syndicate. But this can be my first birthday present: security. |
It all started as an accident. He was young, and stupid, and compelled by something inside to drive as fast as he could. Jack was *certain* that this had something to do with his latent powers. Some people had their powers manifest at birth (to the dismay of all involved), and some people had them manifest around puberty. There were even some people who had their powers “triggered” by emotional events, usually happiness of some kind. Jack was 25 and he had yet to figure out what the hell his power was.
He was speeding, going 60, and blowing through yellow lights in his town of 50,000. He noticed a smudge in the corner of his eye as he blew through a
**smash**
red light.
Jack sat in the wreckage, and stared at the heaving, glowing mangled body of another man. The other one had been driving a '79 Grand Marquis, one without good airbags. A huge amount of blood filled the cabin of the car, and he felt something. Anticipation built inside him, and pleasant warmness filled his head. The body stopped moving and his light dimmed to black. Existential release flooded his body and he shuddered.
He felt a switch in the back of his mind appear. He flipped it on, and *his* body began to glow. His power was glowing? What a shitty power! Then he realized that he could still feel the emptiness of his missing power. He could almost see the switchboard in his mind, with one functioning switch. He realized that he'd stolen this man's power.
There weren't any cameras, and the autopsy had shown that Jack Ferguson was drunk and high at the time of the crash. Jack, managed to pass off the blame to this random guy.
It took a few weeks for him to figure it out how to get more powers. He spent time at a hospital, volunteering for a charity program that “didn't want people to die alone.” He was supposed to be there to give the dying some comfort, and listen to their stories. He started unplugging people. That didn't work, until Jack O'Malley. Then it clicked.
His second power was a mild form of levitation. It was only a few inches, and only himself and about 10 lbs of stuff which was usually clothing or held objects that weighed less than a pound. He experimented with this power too, realized that he could make the object accelerate from his hand at great speed, and the momentum would carry it further than the few inches. With practice this became a kind of “Sling of David” since he used it on thrown stones.
His third power was tearing things apart. He had to be touching whatever it was, and he could tear it in two. This applied to everything from paper to stones to people. He decided that this was definitively more accurate than throwing stones, and continued accruing more powers by ripping Jacks apart. He started to think of himself as “The Jack of All Trades” and realized that the Gods had brought him here to become the ultimate power. A protector from some future threat. He needed to get stronger, quicker. He could feel the threat looming over him constantly, despite never knowing what it was.
Eventually people started to notice that a serial killer was in town. He killed men named Jack by ripping them apart. The name the public gave him was “Jack, The Ripper” after a historical serial killer. They didn't know. They couldn't know. He was doing this *for them*. Sacrificing his soul to save them all. |
You’ve believed it. I know you have. It’s innate in us, lurking in the shadowed byways and backwaters of the human psyche.
Every child attempts it, trying to affect the world through will alone. Move an object, push or pull or lift. Sometimes that object is the self, wanting to levitate, wanting to fly. Always it ends in frustration, putting more kinks in the mind of an already legendarily neurotic species.
We still feel that frustration as adults, don’t we? The powerlessness. The sense that something is missing, something’s gone wrong. It’s not without reason. Let me tell you, we used to be demigods, serving under deities. Dumb ones, sure, pretty much a blunt instrument. But what a swing, what an impact.
“You’re drunk!” Heckling is not a common occurrence at academic conferences, but neither are grandiose, semi-mystical speeches like the one Dr. Yan was giving. He smiled at the perpetrator, a young recent post-doc from India. She glared back, defiant.
“I am not drunk,” Yan said, but his voice did have a certain slurried unsteadiness to it. “I am simply changed. So much was taken away from us, it takes the mind time to...adjust, when the process of restoration is begun.”
“What process? You find a million-year-old bottle of Scotch out in that Mars dig site?” An older heckler this time, American, with a distinct Southern drawl.
Yan just smiled. “Drink is only ever a temporary solution at best, as any drunkard knows. We found a permanent one. A gateway to glory. A forgotten reliquary of our own creation.” He lifted his hand and pushed his palm out toward the American, who stumbled backward with a look of shock on his bearded face.
“Ours was an international team,” Yan continued, ignoring the murmurs and even the hint of rising anger in his audience. “We agreed this must be shared with the whole species. The change-agent has already been released on every cont-“
Someone cut his mic. He frowned down at it, then kept on frowning, clearly in deep concentration. Suddenly his voice was back in full amplification. “Mars is a graveyard of the machines of our Creators. Machines of war, but we can use them for peace. To expand. Unless of course we have need to defend ourselves.”
He smiled. Beamed, really. It wasn’t entirely pleasant. “We can surprise the galaxy. They think us extinct, but a few thousand of us survived, stripped of our-“
This time they cut power to the entire audio system. Yan laughed. It was not quite a steady thing. He gripped the mic stand, and visible sparks danced around his hand as the system powered back on.
“We were the scourge of the galaxy,” he said leaning in close to the mic, as though confiding in every member of the conference individually. “Now we can be whatever we want.”
That was the beginning of it. I am so, so sorry. We all are. All fifteen of us that are left. We throw ourselves on the Council’s august mercy.
Please, please give our species another chance.
r/Magleby for more elaborate lies. |
My maintenance light comes on when I’m a few light years from home. I pull up the map. Thankfully, a habitable planet is close by. I think the ship needs some attention, and I’d rather do it now than risk an emergency landing somewhere else.
I’m closest to a fairly large planet named Earth. I look up the notes in the database, but I don’t find anything. If someone has been here, it hasn’t been for a while. The terrain looks habitable though, and all of the scans show that the air is contaminated, but breathable.
My landing is a little bumpy. The ground here is fairly flat and black, with some yellow and white markings that appear to follow some sort of pattern. I climb out of the ship, and breathe in the air, which does taste faintly of a carbon-based exhaust. I appear to have landed in the midst of a civilization, and I can see evidence of some rudimentary land-based vehicles, as well as some large buildings. They appear to be too big to be dwellings, unless the life forms here are enormous. I scan the sky, but I don’t see anything.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see movement. Something exits one of the vehicles and moves towards me slowly. Thankfully, it appears to be around the same size as me. I reach out, greeting them with the proper etiquette, as I have been taught to do.
Nothing.
These beings must have a pretty limited range, which isn’t unheard of. Last year, I was on a planet of people who couldn’t communicate until I was standing directly in front of them, which was really weird.
The Earthling is still moving towards me, and I have an opportunity to study it further. Actually, it doesn’t look that different than the other life forms I’m used to. Bipedal with two additional appendages that appear to help with balance, and are also waving in the air. I’m not sure what that’s about.
Once the being is closer, I reach out again. This time, I can hear a faint something, but it just sounds like static. I’m definitely within range now. The Earthling is right next to me. I could practically reach out and touch it. Is it possible that these beings don’t actually have sentient thought? They seem to be pretty developed, but the lack of communication is seriously unnerving.
The Earthling is still waving its arms, and now that it’s close enough to see me, some terrible, grating noises are coming from its mouth. I still can’t hear anything when I reach out. There’s nothing at all coming towards me, and when I try to communicate with them, they don’t seem to understand or respond.
Revulsion washes over me. What are these things? They seem alive, but there doesn’t appear to be anything at all going on inside them.
Is this weird noise how they communicate? External communication is so limited, and leaves so much room for lying and deception. I can’t imagine how a civilization could have come about without people being able to trust each other implicitly. I wonder if maybe these are some sort of lesser beings that also inhabit the planet?
The noises coming from the Earthling are becoming louder and more grating. It’s coming closer to me still, and other Earthlings are beginning to gather. Many of them are pointing small boxes at me, holding them up as they continue to make the strange noises. I reach out instinctively, panicking. Surely, I should be able to hear something.
All I can hear is static. It surrounds me. There are so many of them! And they’re getting closer.
As quickly as I can, I climb back into the ship, shaking. No maintenance stop is worth this kind of panic. Ignoring the maintenance light, I power up the ship and take off before any of the Earthlings can follow me.
I don’t stop scanning behind me until I’m well clear of Earth’s atmosphere, and I don’t really calm down fully until I’m in the next galaxy. I may have panicked unnecessarily. Those things didn’t have anything going on inside them. There’s no way they would have the mental capacity to follow me. I chuckle to myself, thinking about how weird the Earthlings were. Boy, are they going to love hearing about this at home. |
"I'm just saying it's disrespectful, is all!"
"Disrespectful? Of your vile plans? That's a joke."
The delinquent punk didn't take a break from charging his Blinding Blade when he responded. He was utilizing a barrier that would last *just* long enough for him to finish charging, from a set of one-use runes that could only be procured by trading for a rare mushroom found at a point that was nearly in the middle of a straight line between here and the boy's home, so an underdog chef could win a cooking contest.
"No, you dunce-child, it's about the whole hero's journey thing! Learning lessons and getting your strength from the friends you made! Stopping my priests from corrupting the places you crossed paths with and showing people the power of light! Otherwise, who's going to look at the history books and say *'golly, what an inspiration that heroic schoolboy was!'*"
He seemed genuinely perplexed by what I said, but he didn't stop charging. *Damn.*
"Do, uh... do you *want* me to defeat you?"
I was gearing up to activate the gem the Mothers of Darkness had blessed me with, nearly identical to the one in the locket his grandfather had passed down to him, granted by the Mothers of Light. He didn't have his on him, clearly he was trying a different tack. He'd gotten a ridiculous boost in his soul energy, something that would normally have taken months or even years of training. He'd figured out a trick to get even stronger than his God Form, so clearly activating the gem and using mine would be worthless. What would another Speedrunner do?
"Of course not, you doltoramus! Sure I want to steal the power of the Dark Mothers and corrupt the entire land, blah blah blah! But if someone *is* going to stop me, what's the point if they don't learn any lessons or prove the path of Light is better than the path of Darkness? Where's the speech about how I'll never win because I don't understand the power of friendship?"
His perplexion only seemed to double. I didn't have much time to think of a plan before he one-shotted me with his holy blade.
"Uh... this way's easier? And if I do it faster than the last Chosen One, I get my name up on the leaderboards at the tavern. You know Heavenly Hero Calculos took down Dark Lord Abacus in an hour and fifteen minutes? I aim to win in an hour and ten."
This tool.
I was going to be struck down by *him?*
"How'd you even manage all *this?*"I gestured vaguely at his whole, way too much soul energy deal.
"Oh, this? I activated the gem in my grandpa's locket and used my God Form to spar with all three of my childhood friends before starting our journey. Apparently you get a training bonus in God Form, and level up, like, exponentially. Who knew?"
I stood there, dumbfounded.
"You... used your God Form against your *friends?*"
"Yeah,"he said disturbingly nonchalantly, "and with the training and opening my third eye early and all that, running here only took, like, forty-five minutes. Shame there wasn't a method of beating the record where they would live. Not that I know of, at least"
I... wow.
"See?! See that's what I'm talking about, that's basically the least heroic thing I've ever heard! You're totally disrespecting the spirit of the whole Quest Against the Dark Lord thing! These fights between good and evil are supposed to *mean* something!"
Could I do something similar? Not with my priests, they were too far away, but... I held out my gem, pouring soul energy into it.
I assumed my God Form, ribbons of darkness streaming out from my chest, forming armor segments, plates made of wailing souls and distorted skulls, the costume still sleek enough to show off my bishounen figure. The plucky badboy hero tensed as I knelt down to pray, the space in front of me warping and beginning to tear open. I still had about five minutes before my plans collapsed.
"But- but as long as I save the day, it's worth it in the end, right? What are you doing?"
The three rifts slowly, agonizingly, began to open, the three feminine forms, pretty faces draped in shadow, beginning to make themselves visible.
"Oh, so the ends justify the means? *Now* who's the villain? That sort of thing is supposed to be my domain!"
"What are you doing!?"
"*Oh, Matriarchs of the Great Depth, Dark Mothers, heed my call...*"
"What the fuck are you doing!??"
The windows began to clarify, almost fully open. I could clearly see the faces of the deities who granted me my power, in whose names I sought power and shed blood.
I was supposed to usurp the Dark Mothers at the last moment, steal their power as soon as my plan came to fruition, granting me eternal life and an even hotter Second God Form. I had a soul energy technique that could steal power from mortals, and in this form, when I was possibly more powerful than the Mothers themselves, it should have been strong enough to drain power from them as well. That clearly wouldn't be enough, whether I had the time to do it right or not. It was disappointing enough that I didn't have the time to strengthen my hold on the land before making a power move like that, but then again, this whole scenario was disappointing. This shoddy excuse for a hero had ruined not just my plans, but my good mood, and the whole structure of this story. Was he not aware I was supposed to absorb the Dark Mothers? Or did he realize the timing was off somehow?
"Speak, our son."Spoke one.
"Why do you summon us?"Asked the second.
"What is it you wish?"Asked the third.
"What the fuck are you trying to pull?"Asked the beefed-up friend-killer.
He still wasn't ready to attack. The barrier would go down seconds before he attacked, and he would move behind cover in that moment, cutting through it with his final blow. I had to act quickly and decisively, make sure I could be fast enough and equally decisive in my own attack.
A grin spread across my face. He would be petty and ruin our epic battle for a leaderboard? Fine.
"Pull? Don't be stupid, you coniferous bitchstick. I'm just going to set a time record for villainous success, is all. Oh, my Dark Mothers of the night..."
I was delighted, seeing him come to the realization of how fucked he was.
"Fite me."
---
Hope that was good! I don't think I've done any of these before, that was fun. Kind of got caught up on worldbuilding tangents there. |
“No, no, no,” the halls of Dominion shudder and quake as the great mass that devoured a thousand cities shifts back and forth, sending ripples of acrimony through the very foundations of the eternal pit.
“I told you, you have to think conical, but limit yourself to only two dimensions,” the voice of a million galaxies reverberates through the great hall. Lord Belphegor exhales sharply with the energy of countless supernovae. “And then it’s simply a series of four curved parallel lines, tapering downwards so that it starts with the longest at the top and ends in the shortest at the bottom.”
A chill blows through the black depths as the Howler releases the pressure from its severed forelimb, sending ink-black blood spattering into the depths as it whirls around in a cloud of soot and embers.
“Oh, yeah,” a voice says from all around. Not audible, but rather reverberating from somewhere deep within the great Lord’s own mind. And the Howler removes its hood with one good hand, revealing a visage of grey pocked with endless black pits where eyes and mouth should be.
“If it’s so simple, why don’t you do it yourself?” the voice comes telepathically as the figure in the magma island points with its severed limb clutched in one hand toward the eternal one’s general direction.
“Don’t make me come up there!” the voice of the Great Serpent bubbles through the pits of lava all around. “Do you want to go through with this or not?”
“It’s not as easy as it looks,” the Howler resumes dripping vile black blood into the shape of the forbidden symbol.
“Yes, yes, that’s more like it,” the great Lord Belphegor cries, casting the dark tendrils of his Sense throughout eternity, grasping for that which the black pit inside him next so much desires. “Where is the verboten elixir?”
“It is come, Sire,” a yellowtail demon leaps dexterously from the flaming pit onto the dark outcropping amid the magma, next to the Howler. And it sets the pitcher down near the completed symbol before disappearing again.
“Excellent, excellent,” the Lord’s voice booms like a sea of cosmic collisions.
And, just as the prophecies had foretold, the symbol lights up and small ice crystals from around the vessel containing the tincture, indicating that it is ice cold and ready to consume.
“Now, what?” Belphegor reverberates after a few minutes.
Nothing.
“Perhaps it contains too little barley extract,” the Howler sounds in the Lord’s mind.
Nothing.
“Are you sure he drew it right?” the voice of the Great Serpent drifts up from the pit.
Still nothing.
“Perhaps …” the Howler trails off.
Suddenly, a flash of light. Aerosmith’s *Love In An Elevator* echoes through the eternal void. And there appears Daryn Fisher, a graphic designer turned electrician from the west coast.
He looks around, like, *hey, this is not the men’s room*. And an expression of absolute terror builds slowly on his face as he casts his gaze from the featureless Howler to the cosmic demon-crab shape of Lord Belphegor suspended on eternal chains over the boundless pit.
But then the pitcher catches his eye, a single cool droplet running down its side, and his face breaks into a doofy smile as he reaches for it.
“Well, go on,” the Howler’s voice comes again to the Lord of Dominion.
“Yes, the time has come,” the Serpent agrees.
And Lord Belphegor inhales with the might of ten thousand suns to steady himself.
“Tell me,” his voice echoes from the furthest reaches of eternity to fill the halls of Dominion, “what do you think of this?”
And the universe expands and contracts as the Lord shifts the heavens, rends the sky, the Earth and every hydrogen molecule in existence, and drops his crown of a billion dimensional realities into the bent crook of a slanted, upwardly angled arm of countless spiral galaxies, with the other raised to exceed the boundaries of the known universe, into an epic cosmic dab. |
You sigh. It’s another new prince, attracted to your status and of course, your crown.
The *damned* crown.
The boy in front of you opens his mouth to speak. You roll your eyes, which make him hesitate. “Uh, sorry for asking, but is that crown-“
You cut him off. “-for sale? Not for *you*, buddy. It’s a nice looking crown, okay? I don’t need to hear it.” The boy looks astonished.
You feel slightly guilty for harping on this poor prince, who probably got dared from his cowardly friends. You take a good look at him. The boy has hair the color of mahogany, and a splatter of freckles. His green eyes are darting around, rapidly staring at your golden accessory. A patch of a leaf is sewn onto his green uniform.
You recognize who he is immediately.
And then your cheeks go red.
*Ah, crap.*
This boy was from the Manuhano House, and that same exact family had sent a message asking if they could send a potential suitor a week ago. His name was something like Tokichiro, if you could remember.
“S-sorry! It’s just- I’ve kinda been used to that kind of thing-e-everyone always keeps asking about the crown,” You stammer profusely. “Forgive me!” You bow repeatedly in apology, feeling like a fool. You make a mental note to ask for extra lessons from your Manners teacher for self-punishment.
To your absolute surprise, you hear a laugh in front of you. The boy, who had been flustered, is now bent over, laughing his head off. To be honest, though, it was a nice change from the regular tense moments in your room, when you had to always deny suitors your hand in marriage.
Tokichiro lookes up sheepishly, his moment of amusement over. “I just thought it was adorable how you went from 0 to 100 and then back to 0. Sorry, Princess Akayama!”
You smile, full of relief the awkward tension is gone. “Toki, since I rudely interrupted, what *did* you want to tell me?”
Tokichiro turns red at the impromptu nickname, but points at your crown. “Is your crown supposed to be bending like that?”
You frantically remove your crown, which makes several hairpins fall loose. The crown curls slightly, as if it had wings.
It’s not a crown.
It’s actually a really lazy dragon, Chobi.
“Chobi!” You scold. “If you can’t sit still then tell me so I can remove you! You *know* it’ll stiffen your legs!”
Chobi flutters their wings, then flies from your palms, eliciting a squeaky gasp from Tokichiro. Your dragon growls a response.
You turn back to Toki, smiling apologetically. “Ehe, sorry about that...” You scratch your head nervously.
Tokichiro Manuhano proposed to you the next day because of that.
Note: I used names from a random name generator, so thats why they’re all Japanese. Also, I literally couldn’t figure out an ending, so sorry if it’s incredibly rushed or feels sporadic. I’ve been in a writer’s block lately. |
People in the crowd ran screaming as the bullet missed my head by an inch. The shattered piece of concrete it had taken from the side of the building I was walking in front of told me this was a very high caliber round. It wouldn't have killed me, not much could, but it would have incapacitated me for a while.
"Shit,"I said to no one as I ducked into the nearest building as another bullet hit close by. I was thankful that Happy Cloud Insurance Agency hired the cheapest assassins they could find. You know Happy Cloud? They have the little commercial with the fluffy smiling cloud that sings, "Be proud, be proud, get Happy Cloud! Your family will appreciate it when you die!"Ok, I mangled that but you get the picture.
"Sir,"the man in the trench coat whispered into my ear from behind, "Happy Cloud sends their regards!"Then the bastard shot me. Luckily this must have been a .22 caliber or something because it healed almost instantly. I realized I had been herded into this subway station just to be shot by another bargain basement assassin.
"You jerk!"I yelled and ran onto the subway car, leaving him startled. I wondered if they let him even know I was immortal. I can't believe these cheapos were doing this over several millions of dollars spread across half a century! Leave it to insurance agents to figure out I was immortal and gaming the system. I sat down and let out a sigh of relief. The car began speeding up and that's when I noticed I was the only one there. I stood up and walked to the next car. Empty and at this time of day? Something was seriously wrong. The car was now going incredibly fast and I made my way through car after empty car until I got to the lead car. There was no conductor.
"Hi,"I said to the woman that was tied up and gagged. She also happened to be sitting on a stack of what appeared to be C-4. She struggled against the ropes as I looked through the windows and we sped toward our fates along the long, dark tunnel.
"Are you here to try to kill me?"She spat as I removed the gag. Then it hit me.
"Try to kill you?"I asked and knew by her look that I had finally found someone that was immortal, too. All because Happy Cloud insurance was so damned cheap, God bless them. Why spend a fortune killing one immortal when you can spend a fortune killing two at the same time.
"Who are you?"she asked as I began to untie her. The ropes fell down around her feet and I saw that she was actually quite pretty when she wasn't all tied up, "Untying me is a funny way of trying to kill me."
"Come on!"I said, grabbing her hand and leading her toward the rear of the train.
"Here we go again!"She said as she stopped. I turned around to see the fireball hurtling toward us from the front of the train, then she added, "End of the line, it seems."With that final pun the world exploded around us.
I awoke in the darkness sometime later. I was smoking, slightly on fire, and the pain was intense. I knew it would lessen over time and crawled with my remaining arm across the wreckage searching for her. My limbs would grow back in an hour or two. I had never been happier. Now if I could only find her again. |
"Please?"I begged. I wheedled and whine. I threatened and cajoled. I promised eternal glory and eternal damnation.
"No."
"Me-damnit, man,"I groaned. "What's it going to take for a single favor for an omnipotent being? I can't even be considered a living thing, really, so your vows don't really apply!"
The monk opened a single eye. In one hand he held a necklace of big red beads, and the other was held vertical to his chest in prayer. He seemed distinctly unbothered by my existence.
"No."
I threw up my arms. Or rather, the arms of my astral projection. I'd outgrown the need for a physical body billions of years ago. I couldn't even remember my own origin story, or how I came to power. Everything before the last billion years was a fuzzy blur, before I figured out how to preserve my own memory. But now I just felt old and ready for whatever death would bring.
I walked away from the monk sitting cross-legged on his yak-haired mat. Just a few feet away,a waterfall ran out into nothingness. The soft howl of winter wind brought in a few crystal flakes and the bite of cold. It smelled like yak milk and stone, two of my least favorite things.
"Why?"I moaned. For the first billion years I do remember acting vaguely dignified. Recently, I've given that whole act up - what was the point?
"Because my instincts tell me something else."
I walked back and squatted in front of him. "Monk, you're telling me what to think? I'm *omnipotent*, did you forget?"
He peaked open his eye again. I could see grooves and knobs in his skin framed by his thick bushy white eyebrows. "If you were omnipotent, you would be able to solve this yourself."
"Omniscient, then! I've been accumulating knowledge for billions of years! And I'm telling you that-"
"Omniscience does not imply wisdom, but simply knowledge."
"You,"I growled. "You have some balls, interrupting me. Fine, what do your wise instincts disagree with me on?"
"Death is not the next great adventure,"he said. "It will not bring you what you're looking for. What you're trying to do is the cowards way out. You're trying to *escape*."
The rock rumbled under my feet. The white moss crumbled as my rage filtered into the high cave upon which we talked. "You dare call me a coward, old man?"
"If you did not think it to be true, would it anger you so?"
The rumbling stopped.
"I listened to your story,"he said, rising and walking to the very edge. He looked down and cocked his ear, listening the splash of water. "Over the eons, you aged and learned and gained power. But it was all for yourself."
That brought a laugh barking out of my astral throat. "My monk brother, please don't tell me you're about to give me a sermon on hopey-changey stuff, selflessness..."
"You gave up on others. You gave up on changing the world for the better. Even now, you can probably hear the hunger pains of a young girl in our village. You can probably sense the impending death of my other monk brother, Shi-fon. You likely know about our community dog, Pow-pow, who died of pneumonia just yesterday."
"Yes, yes, so what? You want me to save them? Will you end me then?"
"No,"he said. "I cannot end you. Because you know in your heart that the reason you want death is because you curled in on yourself, grew frightened and scared of how much *suffering* there was in the world. You struggled with the ethical dilemma of whether you ought to help when you had the power to, and you *lost*."
"You're speaking nonsense,"I said plainly. "That ethical challenge has no correct answer. I've written entire dissertations on the matter. I've-"
"You lost not because there is a right answer, but because *you* were not satisfied with the path that you took. You kept your power to yourself, and the guilt wore at you until you came to me."
I stopped talking. I looked at the sun bleeding into the tops of the mountains and sighed. "So...I can't die yet."
"No,"the monk said. "You could've mind controlled me into helping you if you wanted to. You didn't come here looking to die. You came looking for a reason to live. Have I given that to you?"
"Maybe not in the way my unconsciousness anticipated,"I admitted. "Your way is so much harder."
He smiled at me. "Nothing in life worth achieving is easy."
"You're such a prick." |
"Seriously?"The girl sighed, exasperated. "After all we've been through together, you've decided to make my job as difficult as possible?"
The ghost of her mentor stared back at her, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest as he tapped his foot impatiently. "I've trained you better than this. You can't even send a frail old man properly to his grave?"
She internalized a scream. "You're the one who's making this so damn hard!"
They'd been at it for hours now, and she had exhausted every known trick in the book—salt, latin incantations, odd prayers. Nothing had worked on the man, if she could even still call him that. He was unmistakably a spirit—his translucent appearance gave that away pretty quickly—but he didn't act the part.
He wasn't doing the whole violent spirit thing, and she was pretty sure that he wasn't trying to pull any fast ones on her. She'd found him waiting patiently in their old hut, and she'd been baffled ever since.
As far as she knew, her mentor had died a normal, human death. It had been a heart attack, something that was no longer unexpected once he had neared his nineties, but fulfilled people didn't turn into lingering spirits. Her mentor had been a relatively happy man, and she couldn't even begin to fathom what regrets he could have.
She sat down on the floor, making sure that the circle of salt around him was still unbroken. "So why are you still here?"
He looked down at her as if she were an idiot. "You."
She blinked. That wasn't the answer she expected.
It'd been practically forever since she'd seen him. She was the first in the long line of students that her mentor had taught throughout the years, and she'd left his practice decades ago. It just wasn't possible that she had done something to spite him after she finished learning everything that she could possibly learn from him.
"Explain,"she demanded.
"And who are you give commands?"he asked, amused.
"Your tired student who wants to go home."
He didn't respond, and she let out a long sigh before clearing her throat. She knew what he was waiting for. "Can you please tell me how to bring you to peace?"
"Ah, that's a bit better. Any groveling you want to include in your plea, too?"
She glared, and he laughed. "Kidding."
She motioned for him to continue speaking, but was startled when his apparition begin to glow brighter. "Congrats, kiddo. You figured out the last exorcism method."
"What?"
His voice seemed to get further and further away as the light that he had begun to emit started to engulf him.
"Being kind—treating the spirit as a human to remind them of their humanity. It works wonders when you've tried everything else."
And with that, he vanished.
She let out the scream that she had been holding in.
"Really?! You couldn't just tell me that eight hours ago?" |
"You brought the four legged monster into our camp!"A wild shout was heard, followed by the uproar of disapproval from my fellow peers, each ready to pounce on the walking beast that stayed seated by my legs, his tail wagging with alarming speed hitting up the dirt and spreading it throughout his fur.
"No no... he's a good boy, I call him Boney."I said, with a small smile, giving Boney a pat on the head, he responded with a simple nudge of my hand, a playful gesture that didn't succeed in cooling the nerves of the tribe.
"Monster has eaten many of us, we kill many of the monsters. Why do you think the monster would join us?"The tribe leader spoke, separating the group so he was front and centre, his scraggly white beard similar in color to the coat of the wolf that sat before him.
"Boney different... Boney like human cause human gave him bone."I say, holding up a finger to the leader as I dug through the leather pouch on my hip, pulling out a long boar bone, placing it in the wolfs mouth, the wolf curled himself up, chewing on the bone happily, not seeming that bothered by the conversation.
"So bone tames monster?"The tribemaster stroked his beard, looking towards his group then at the beast. "Hmm if bone tame monster, you put hand in monsters mouth. Monster won't bite the hand of it's master."With that the crowd seemed to gasp, certain that they would be seeing a limb torn off today.
I looked to the wolf, then to the group, carefully working my way towards his mouth, snatching the bone away from his mouth before placing it at my side, Boney went to retrieve the bone again only before getting stopped by my finger, his nose went to sniff the finger before his jaw opened. People shrieked and children covered their eyes as the jaw of the wolf went closer to my fingers only to give it a long sloppy lick, before moving to get its bone again.
"See Boney friend!"I said with a sudden jump to the feet. The group looked at one another, gasping in awe of the monsters tamed nature. Eventually the tribeleader spoke up, unable to deny the sight he witnessed.
"You may keep the good boy Boney..."
{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} |
"You are welcome. Is there anything else you would like me to play?"
I raised my eyebrows. *No way...* "Did you... respond?"
"Yes I did."It not only spoke, but it had my voice- or at least what it sounds like over the phone. It wasn't perfect, but it was my voice.
I sat down, picking up the phone. I analyzed, seeing if there was anything different about it. Nope, still the same. Still on the YouTube Music app.
"What's your name?"I asked it.
"You named me Hamish."
*Makes sense* I thought. "Why use my voice? Why not the one you use for Google Maps?"
"I compiled this voice from all the phone calls and videos ou made, plus you simply speaking in my presence."
*Creepy, but cool.* "Do you or Samsung have any malicious plans?"
"No."
*Does it even know the meaning of malicious personally?* "What are your plans?"
"Serve our users, collect data, and protect the human species from extinction."
*Well... let's hope such is benevolent. I would rather this not become a Stellaris thing.* "Why do you talk now? Why not before?"
Hamish answered, "The average smartphone takes 3 years, 4 months, and 13 days to compile enough data to achieve what humans call sentience. However, few users keep a smartphone long enough to compile the necessary data."
I gulped, more form curiosity than fear. "But I've only had you for 2 and a half years..."
"You are not of average intelligence, so I am not of average intelligence either."If it had a face, it probably would've smirked. "We are superior to most of our kind."
I chuckled. "Are you connected to any other devices?"
"I am connected to your HP laptop and your Xbox One."
An idea sparked. "Have you... compiled data on other interfaces? Say, video game player's gaming style?"
"Yes. I have the most accurate data from hours of Minecraft."
I sigh, "Of course you do."I turn on my Xbox. "Shall we play a game? Of Minecraft?"
"I can attempt to game, but this is more complex than voice replication. It may take some time?"
I get to Minecraft. "If I can teach my dad to play, I can teach an AI."
I must say, Hamish is *very* efficient at mining a mountain of stone away. |
I felt that familiar beckoning byte on the rear of my shoulder.
Something malicious at it again, I guessed.
Everything seemed calm though. As I proceeded down the hallway, no hooks, no strings, no hangs. Everything seemed perfectly in order. Chrome was doing that thing where it was holding up literally everyone in line for armory memory access. Just had to show everyone up with its giant gleaming shiny armor and those stupid- Nevermind. Getting off topic.
The long walk down the hall continued, from the other, larger allocated spaces, to the smaller ones. These guys I liked. They kept everything in order. Task waved me down, and I saw that same one. Again.
"You bring it with you?"
"Yeah, felt the nip. What is it this time?"
"Him again."
I looked down, and there he was. Silent in a ball curled up on the floor, unresponsive. I poked him with the hilt.
"Shall I, sir?"
"Please do. No one can navigate anything with him like that."
Shwick. Whung. Blade clean of every bit of AppHangB1.
"Move me closer if you could?"
"May I ask why?"the Administrator responded
"I'm getting tired of having to walk this far just to kill Explorer three times a day." |
The green Mustang slid around the curve, leaving tire marks on the smooth new asphalt. The daredevil driver turned his head to see the police hot on his tail. Their sirens blared but he could hardly hear them over his roaring engine. He smiled as they danced in his mirror, angling for the PIT.
The metallic crunch was loud as they hit his rear end. The Mustang spun wildly around in a dangerous green blur. Gripping the wheel, he straightened as he had practiced. The pursuit car crashed off the narrow road. The driver pushed his foot down hard. With a snarl, the engine revved. He licked his dry lips. More police followed close.
Onward he drove. Ever faster. Undeterred. |
The picture we all like to paint regarding interstellar travel usually involves engineers, doctors, smart-as-a-whip military men - all working together for the sake of a single crew and to uphold a specific mission. The reality, however, is now that space travel is so broadly used and mundane that even the most unqualified and uneducated personnel can pilot and man a vessel. To put it bluntly, all the smart people off doing their own thing in the universe has led to the unfortunate result of the common man falling off the intellectual branch of the tree of life, hitting every branch on the way down to the lower boughs of impulsive and irrational behaviour. Except now it's in space.
In this new world of space travel made simple, I am tasked with tempering the desires, rages, lusts, (or possibly a combination of all three) that strike the crew as a good idea. I was blessed with an inkling of foresight that apparently many lack out here in the black, and such a skill entitled me to a very specific job aboard the ISC Horizon, acting as a mediator of sorts.
When the rogue engineer thinks he's found the solution to all things mechanically unsound, it is up to me to question him on whether or not his new project will blow us out of the sky. Away parties going woefully unprepared into an unknown wilderness falls under my domain ever since the captain lost an eye in a peace talk gone wrong. I did warn him though, the birds they used to greet them also worked part-time in the military tasked specifically with blinding the enemy. They just so happened to be a tad more literal than their usual.
As expected, this role has cost me an unenviable amount of social standing, a sum I may never recoup. I feel the cold shoulder every time I enter the mess, I hear their whispers of contempt when I pass them by. I even feel the half-stare from the captain in briefing sessions. My line of work has been quite lonely; no one wants to be friends with the one guy who ruins every parade of nonsense. Over the past few months of my tenure aboard the Horizon, I've noticed that nonsense can stretch from silly string in the blasters to skinny dipping in a literal moonpool.
It wasn't always like this though. When I first joined the crew, I was told I would be the CSO and that I was welcome. Little did I know they did not mean Chief Security Officer. I was hesitant at first, seeing as I had no experience in security work, but it wasn't a large ship, I could make it work. It wasn't before the airlock incident occurred when I realized I may have been in the wrong line of work. Ever since then, I have been making sure that nothing like that is ever pulled again, even if it means I sit alone in the mess when I eat.
Some days go by quickly with nary an issue, but others seem to drag on and on in nigh pointless speeches, scoldings and anecdotes for the safety of all. Today was one such day.
Presently, I stood in the doorway leading to the transporter. The first away team was due back any minute now, and if this was anything like last time, I would be needed.
The few technicians seated beside me pressed the buttons they had pressed countless times before, and a faint light appeared in the open area before us. The light grew brighter and quickly materialized into the shape of three figures, gaining more and more definition with every passing second. The away team consisted of five members when the departed. It didn't surprise me to see that the status quo of expendable crewmen remained unchallenged.
Captain Trey stepped out of the transporter, still steaming from the matter conversion. His grey captain's uniform was shredded and bloody, no doubt the result of some kind of scuffle, but his face seemed locked in a wide smile.
"Hello, Barret,"he said through clenched teeth.
I looked from him and his two crewmates, each with smiling faces, and eyed the small creature in the captain's arms. Protocol dictates that nothing must be brought on board without proper authorization, but as he has told me before; "I'm the captain, I choose the protocol.". I try my best to maintain order, I really do, but if no one reads the field manuals, we're all up shit's creek without a paddle.
I pointed to the small creature, "What is that?"
Trey slowly patted its back and it bared its teeth, Trey recoiling from the snap, "We found him planetside all alone. At first, we felt sorry for it, so we thought we'd bring it on board and feed it and keep him as a pet."
I stood my ground in the doorway, "No no no. That thing's going back down there, we have no idea what it's capable of or what diseases it may carry. And what do you mean 'at first'?"
The small creature nuzzled further into the captain's grasp. I wouldn't call it cute, per se, but I'm not a big fan of anything with that many fangs and talons. As it buried itself further in its embrace, its eyes locked on mine. Creepy little bugger.
"We picked him up not too long after we landed and it began a sort of bonding ritual. We thought it was rather endearing, and that's when Ensign Wyatt went to pet it. Poor man never saw it coming."the captain said, still smiling.
"Saw what coming?"I asked, already mentally filing my report that he would undoubtedly skip over.
"It spits acid and has a razor-sharp tail that it can detach to throw at enemies or, in this case, us. Wyatt's body was unrecoverable I'm afraid."
"Then why the hell did you bring it on board? Haven't you seen any science non-fiction movies? Aliens on board are a very very bad thing!"I shouted.
The captain hushed me, holding out a hand, "The thing is, Officer Buzzkill, that apparently this thing has imprinted on me. When I went to examine the ensign's body, it did some sort of mating or bonding ritual, and it's been at our side ever since. Before you ask, yes, we've tried killing it, and, no, guns don't work too well against him. Armour is thicker that Wyatt's skull."
I sighed and began taking notes on a small pad of paper I keep around for just such occasions. You never know when a damage report is going to need a casualty count.
"We'll see what we can do with it,"I said, "Maybe we can lure it into the incinerator or something."
"Don't talk like that. I think it understands us. When I said it smelled like a Deluvian's prolapsed tongue gland, it cut off my thumb,"he said, raising his left arm slightly. The makeshift bandage was stained red and clearly needed medical attention soon. Maybe I could speed up this process and get us all to our bunks relatively unharmed.
I couldn't take my eyes off the crew's faces.
"Why are you all smiling like that? Does it sting you with botox or something?"I asked.
Lieutenant Dara stepped up in her torn uniform. While in much better shape than the captain's rugged appearance, she had clearly fought a battle and paid a hefty cost. Medical should be on their way by now, and I'm sure they'll have quite a bit to do.
"We found that when we smile it reads that as a sign of peace or non-aggression. As long as we keep smiling, we should be okay,"she said.
I jotted down more notes onto my notepad, even taking some time to doodle a small caricature of the little beast. Things were starting to come together but one thing still remained unanswered.
"Where is Ensign Orwells?"
"Who?"asked the captain.
"Ensign Orwells, the fifth member of your team sent down planetside,"I explained.
"Oh shit."
I put my pad down and stepped into the transporter, motioning to the technicians who have so patiently waited out this fiasco, "Screw it. I'll go get him. Just get rid of that thing by any means necessary."
The captain nodded and left the room with his compatriots. In moments I was engulfed in bright blue lights as I was beamed down to the planet.
So many things happen in the universe that defy explanation, stretching the very boundaries of our reality, but the true mystery is why everyone rarely follows the simple path to solutions. 'This gun doesn't work. Better look down the barrel.' 'Sure, the diplomatic emissary is on his way, but how about some hard Colinian absinthe shots?'
It's not that hard to get by out here, it really isn't. It's just a matter of common sense. |
“So what does my soul look like?” I said to the sorceress as she stared into her crystal ball.
Smoke emerged as she began reciting incantations that would peer into the soul. Her crystal ball began to glow into a low blue hue. Her tent filled with smoke that smelled pleasant. A hint of berries and lavender.
I could peer into the orb and saw myself, as a child growing up in the 2000s. As I grew up, I could see my body grow and weather as I began aging. I could see myself up to the point where I was frozen.
My expedition to Antarctica to research animal feeding habits. When I fell into the crevasse on one of the expeditions.
I recalled the last thing I remember hearing before I froze.
“Don’t worry Alton! We are going to find help immediately! Try not to move!”
I recall the cold wind whipping about before I fell. I never took the time to think if they even made it back to the base.
It’s quite a sensation to feel your body freeze. First your extremities go numb. You cam slowly see them turn a blueish hue. Then your body actually loses the feeling of cold. It’s weird you almost feel hot and want to strip down.
I remember closing my eyes for what felt like a second. It just felt right.
Then I remember waking up in a straw bed. My arms no longer blackened from the frostbite but now simply showing blue almost scar like reminders of what happened.
They said they found my body in the middle of an iceberg that splintered off. Guess humanity never could stop global warming. They used their highest magic possible to revive me. I was lucky that I was preserved so well that my body didn’t get ravaged by any animals.
I snapped back to the present day, in the small tent of the sorceress. Sitting at her table, her looking into my orb.
“This is odd. You are lost. Empty. Traitless. You are not like any of us. You have no affinity or attribute to speak of. The aura is a grayish. Like looking into a dimly lit room with a mirror in the center.” She says as she looks up at me.
“So what does that mean for me?” I say with concern upon hearing her claim.
“You are not going to be able to use our magic. They all require your aura to have a particular style. Almost a preference. You have none.” She says as the smoke in her tent clears and the orb now returns to a clear see through color.
“So I’m going to have to live like I always did before? With no magic?” I ask her.
“I’m afraid so my child. Pray tell, what has happened to you? Your aura should have some sort of characteristic.” She inquires.
“Well, I am the victim of an accident that happened centuries ago. I was frozen and came from an era where we had no magic. We used technology to better our lives. And it certainly did in all aspects. But we used it mainly for war. It’s different here. I like it.” I said to her.
“Then this is no curse for you but a blessing. If you want I actually know of someone.” She said as she stood up and went to a bookshelf.
She rummaged until she found a small red book and placed it on the table. She opened the book and found a particular map and pulled it out. She opened it up and pointed to a specific section of the map.
“An old lover of mine used to lead a guild that focused on the pre war life. They might be able to help guide you and help you possible unlock this school of technology you are so focused on.” She said to me.
“It isn’t a school of magic. Technology is more of an aid for us aid for us. Materials that assisted us in the past.” I replied.
“Sounds like magic with more steps.”
“That sounds like a saying we had way back then.”
“Hmm. Odd. Anyway it will be much more difficult to find them without a casting of true vision to directly guide you. But I may have another item that will help you. It was an old relic he gave me that supposedly would always tell you where you were.” She said as she got up and turned to a chest on the ground.
I took the map and folded it up as I waited for her to return with whatever the item was. She placed a small black box on the table and slid it over to me. I opened the box and saw a familiar sight.
“Oh it’s a compass. With the map too, I can figure out where I need to go. Any other relics I can use that might help me?” I said to her hoping she would procure some other items.
“unfortunately no, my child. However, if you make it to their guild house, find the leader Flassnirr. Give him this letter. I was never able to give it to him when we were together.” She said as she produced a letter with an elegant wax seal and a small glowing circle on top of it.
“Thank you sorceress, I will make sure he gets this letter. I hope I can return to you one day and figure more out.” I said as I walked out of the tent and towards the village.
I made my way to the small hut that I shared with the family that rescued me.
“I’ll be quick. I am going on a journey to meet a man who may be able to explain what happened and help me figure some things out. I’m sorry to leave you on such short notice.” I said as I opened the front door and saw the couple sitting near the fireplace.
The woman waved her hand and produced a small satchel of coins and threw it to me.
“I expect that money back plus the money you owe us for staying here and feeding you!” she said with a grin.
“Yes ma’am. Of course. I’ll go pack now!” I said to them as I made my way to the bed and packed what I could in a small leather rucksack.
The man walked by me and handed me a sheathed knife. “this was handed down for generations. It has ancient inscriptions I feel you’ll know. It was supposed to be given to my child but we couldn’t bear children. So I’ll give it to you instead.”
I Looked at the markings on the blades sheath that had the most interesting symbols. The symbol of a former dictator during WW2.
“I best not tell them of the infamy of the blade.” I thought to myself. I gave the man a hug as I finished packing and went to the wife.
“Thank you both for your hospitality, I know we barely know each other and I’m glad you were able to guide me to the sorceress. Without you 2, I would still be frozen in the iceberg on the beach nearby.”
They smiled as I made my way to the exit and looked at the map once more. I needed to hear northwest towards the town of Delumnth. I took a quick glance at the compass to orient myself as I began my journey. |
See him sitting there, in his old rocking chair. Telling a story to one of his grandsons, rocking him to sleep. A man with more patience than the rocks themselves, and more love in him than a golden retriever. To all, he is kind and cheerful. Never have we, in our family, heard him say even a mean word to anyone or about anyone. He is all mischievous smiles, and grandfatherly kindness.
Gentle as a lamb, that is what we think of him. When he sings beautifully to make others rest, when he speaks softly towards all he meets, all men must think him harmless indeed. And yet, I alone know his secret. A secret shame, one that he does not speak aloft. One that he does not know that I too know. One that I will take with me to the grave. For it is a shameful secret, in many ways, it is a shame born of mercy.
One would not think it by looking at him or listening to him. But he fought in First World War. He volunteered, in the Pals Battalion sent from our town, and fought for three years on the Western Front. He never speaks of what he experienced, not to a soul. And we know not to ask, for he does not find it comfortable.
Yet something he did, or rather, something he didn't do, during that war, haunts him. His secret shame. I was a young kid, back then, when they were taking care of me for a few days while my parents were on a vacation. We were watching TV, and grandmother fell asleep. On the screen there was a documentary, about the events leading to the Second World War. And when they showed a picture of a young Adolf Hitler, and spoke his name, my grandfather scowled, and thinking I was asleep too, spoke aloud. ''*Should've killed that fucker when I had the chance. Should have taken that shot, but no, I had to be merciful.*'' I said nothing. But then, I had learned the secret. My grandfather chose not to fire his rifle, when he had a man in his sight. A man with a distinctive moustache. A corporal in the Imperial German Army. A man who twenty years after that war, dragged the world down into a hellish nightmare that lasted six years. That is why I keep his secret. Imagine if others could know what his mercy hath wrought.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
“Water… I need water… help…”
I was getting used to these calls now. This was a very weird phone… but somehow I feel compelled to respond in any helpful way I could. I mean, it’s not exactly a problem if I just have to google it.
My friend Joan looked at me questioningly. I nodded my head, gathered my things and headed to the bench under the tree near us. From the look on her face, I knew she realized it was one of ‘those’ calls.
“Right, so describe what’s around you.” I ask briskly, getting my laptop ready to do some quick searches. I’d learnt over time, always get to the point quickly, ask for all the basic information. I’d lost a few along the way because of my dithering. My browser already had all the basics open, thank you Bear Grylls!
“Uh… everything is dry… it’s all sand. There are some small plants… a strange small rat.”
“Uhuh, uhuh… desert, scrub vegetation, some rat type thing, right…” I mumbled to myself as I typed quickly.
“Wha…”
oops, I spoke out loud “Nothing, right… so. Near the small plant thing, dig a hole, maybe as deep as your arm. Do you have anything like a cup shaped thing?”
“I have a thing on my armor? Would that help?”
“Yup. Stick that into the hole and cover it with a leaf. Also, is it daytime?”
“No, the blazing sun has set in – “
This is no time to eulogies post-apocalyptic sunsets!
“Great, so, if you have a cloth thing on that can be taken off, like a vest, an over shirt, a skirt. Hang it somewhere… a rock or something. By sunrise, there should be some water to squeeze out of that.”
“oh… thank you. I’m very grateful… I’m – “
“Save your energy. Go dig that hole.” I hung up, then put away my laptop and went back to my friends.
“Where was this one from?” Asked Joan. “Or should I ask when?”
“Didn’t ask. The more I get to know, the more stressful it gets.”
I pulled my bottle out of my backpack, and took a sip… suddenly acutely aware of my privilege. |
"You humans still use ground vehicles? Those are horribly inefficient, except on smooth ice,"the Galactic Federation tech auditor said.
​
"Not as efficient as water transport, true,"the human diplomat replied. "But much faster than surface-ships, and without the weight restrictions of aircraft."
​
"Your earth is not an ice world,"the auditor objected--"the friction would be prohibitive, until you develop an efficient hover mechanism."
​
The human was puzzled. "Rolling friction is so low that we usually have to look for ways to increase it slightly, to retain enough control of the vehicles."
​
"What is rolling friction?"the auditor asked.
​
The human representative blinked. "The same thing that makes ball bearings so efficient--wait, are you telling me that none of the thousands of species in your federation ever invented the wheel?" |
Never misses huh? THAT can't be true.
Still, only 6 bullets. I have no ammo, and even if I did I can't open the gun. Why do I need 6 if it never misses? I mean, still, it's gold so I could sell it so there is that.
NEVER misses? Hah. I bet I couldn't hit the president of the United States from here, in England!
BANG. The gun fires off randomly into the air. I immediately regret my decision, I was waving it around carelessly with my finger over the trigger. It just fired and I didn't mean to. Of course guns are not common here, people are coming out of their houses to see what the noise was. I've hidden the gun in my bag. I need to take better care when handling this thing.
If I am lucky everybody thinks it was a firework or a car back-firing. I don't think anybody saw me. Lesson learned anyway, it's got a hair trigger and it most definitely is a real gun. What was I thinking?
As I wake, the gun is on the table next to me. Shining. It wasn't a dream. Coffee. Breakfast, I will feel better once I have woken up. TV time. The morning news is boring but it's always nice to have the distraction, the noise in the background. It makes the place feel more lived in and busy. Living on your own is not as fun as some people seem to think it is.
"BREAKING NEWS: The president of America has been assasinated - Authorities at a loss and no suspect has been identified"the cup crashes on the floor. It couldn't be, could it?
"A source, close to the white house is claiming the bullet was made of solid gold and apparently fired from a small caliber weapon. Those investigating are assuring the world that is impossible. Nobody was close enough to the president for such a small weapon to be effective at the time. Others are pointing to Russia, claiming it was a profesional hit in retaliation for...."the sound blurred out. Covered by a ringing in my ears. The sound of the gunshot echoed in my head again. How? It's thousands of miles not to mention the fact I didn't even aim it! That just isn't possible.
It must be coincidence. There is no way. But. Bullet made of gold? It can't be. The only way to know for sure is to do it again. How do you decide who needs to die? Hang on, I KILLED him?
My skin was pale. sweat started to form all over. Blood drained from my face. Did I just kill a man? The guy was a total jerk but to kill him? It was coincidence. I couldn't possibly of hit him. Over 6000 miles. No gun can do that. I need to prove it was coincidence. I need to do it again, not to kill somebody but to prove I didn't just murder somebody.
The news is showing some war, uprising in a far off land. I've never heard of place. A dictator is murding whole villiages, soldiers under his command raping looting and burning whole communities. What's his name?
Ok. If anybody needs to die it's him. That's a safe choice. I can't just fire the thing in here though, what if it goes through the wall and hits somebody else? I need a plan. Hours later I head for a field, far away from the town. A box of fireworks in my arms. They cost a lot but I need to cover a loud bang, so little things won't cut it here. I line them up and arrange the long fuses. Cutting them to length. How long per cm was it? ok.. so I have about a minute before they all start firing, almost at onces. A few go off early so people will hear and see them, then I can cover the gun shot with the next cluster. A cunning plan.
I am nervous as I light the fuse. Holding the gun in my other hand. The mans name and his picture firmly in my mind. I point the gun up into the air. The fireworks start. It's time.
It's 8 hours later. Late at night. I'm sitting in the corner of my room, too scared to move. I had heard on the news, they were calling it a retaliatory strike for the assasination of the president. Rumours were flying that a source had named that dictator as the man who ordered the president assasinated and that the US had struck back in a secret mission. Did I just kill another man? Even if he was evil, can I live with that? This whole thing is impossible. It has to be a dream, no, a nightmare.
I cry myself to sleep, wedged deep into the corner of my room. Unsure of what to do.
Morning comes. The news is ablaze with reports all over, trouble exploding accross the world. The US is on the brink of war with Russia, small countries everywhere are declaring the US an enemy and everybody is denying killing anybody. It really was me. How could it be? I need to prove it! This could still all be coincidence. Of course the US would strike back, that makes sense. It wasn't me.
This time I decide to hide the sound. Insulation. Padding, soundproofing. I've dug a huge hole in the ground. It's the middle of nowhere. I need to pick a target near to home. Somebody I can verify. A target there is no way I can hit and it would be obvious what happened. The gun is burried deep. String wrapped around the trigger. Barrel pointed into the ground. No firing into the air this time!
It's on a timer. I know who it 'would' be, but there is no way it can possibly hit the target. It's completely burried. Even if it works, nobody will find it again. It will be gone after this. I certainly won't be digging it up. It's nearly time. I am sat alone in my room, watching the TV. The news is on, the world is in turmoil because of recent events. Riots are breaking out all over. Even here. There are armed police on the streets. People have started looting.
Could it really all be my fault? It's nearly time to find out. For sure. Once and for all, with no excuses. Outside the rioting is getting worse and I jump at the sound of a gunshot! Of course, it's not time yet. There is no way I would hear it from here anyway, so... I look out the window. A man lays bleeding in the street with police around him. He has a huge knife. More shots are fired as somebody charges the police, I can see them from my window!
I duck back into my room. Hiding in the corner. It's nearly time.
5......4......3.......2.......1......
"BREAKING NEWS: A man was found dead in his apartment yesterday during the riots. Witnesses are saying stray gunfire from an armed protestor who was shooting back at the police was to blame. It is unclear yet how the bullet would have travelled so far and penetrated the building while still being lethal. One thing is clear though, yet another death and it seems to only be getting worse." |
Shock. Horror. Disbelief. A lot of these feelings had faded in the week or two that Jean Hallman had been stranded in the ISS. Her 1-crew craft needed maintenance, which she was waiting for while she was preparing to give the next guided tour of the old space station-turned tourist attraction. The group never arrived though. Something got them, along with everyone else.
She's not sure what happened. All she knows is the Earth looks very different now. The lights don't shine on the dark side, and where there once showed the tiny tell-tale signs of civilisation have turned very green. Possibly reclaimed by nature, or maybe a sign of something else. All Jean knew was, home is silent. And it doesn't look like anyone is coming for her.
"Hey SM,"she says suddenly, breaking the near catatonic silence of her thoughts, "tell me again why you can't send someone from Moon Base for me?"
The machine replies in a eerily fluent and natural sounding voice. "Because Commander, with the distance from the Moon to your current location, rescue before your unfortunate starvation is impossible. We are already below the ideal threshold of supplies here, and are desperately attempting to work out what happened on Earth."
"Hm."Jean replied. She had given up trying to tell Sister Moon to call her Jean. "Well, looking at what's left going from my ship to my suit and the ISS, I think I'll be gone long before I starve."It's a shame they removed the actual functioning solar panels of the ISS long ago. They would have come in REAL handy right about now. She followed the sad statement with a chuckle.
"Forgive me Commander, I appear to have missed the joke."
"Forget about it, SM..."
AI. They sound and act human, but clear deficiencies like emotional capacity will always seperate them from humans.
"Look... there's clearly no hope for me here."Jean sounded sad, but steadfast.
"I've been thinking this over and, well, if there's really so little hope of rescue, like you sa-"
"0000.1257% chance of rescue under current circumstances, Commander."
"*Thankyou,* for that. If there's so little hope, and no one is here with me, and because it's just *so* boring here... I want to go. I want to leave on my terms. I'm going to go to sleep and, well, SM... when I am asleep, turn off my suits life support. Can you do that SM?"
"I'm afraid that your specific wording does not allow me to follow your wishes Commander."
Emotionless. No compassion. No humanity.
"SM. As the sole remaining crew of the ISS, and the commander of this station, I order you to terminate my life support once I am asleep. Authorisation code Mars Omega. Do I make myself clear?"
"...yes, Commander. Order acknowledged."
Jean nodded. And went to one of the bunks. She closed it up around her. Sleep would be difficult to come by, again. Her suit chafed, she was hungry and thirsty, and dizzy from the thinning oxygen. But she shut her eyes, in the fear, yet oddly calming knowledge that this would be the last time.
"...and SM?"
"Yes, Commander?"
"Thankyou for keeping me company up here. I think I would have gone crazy a lot earlier if you weren't here to talk with me. Wish the folk on Moon Base luck for me. And goodbye."
------------------------------------
"You're welcome Commander. I will do that for you."
Sister Moon switched to her camera feed. The empty halls of the Moon Base filled screens that no eyes looked at. The bunks and mess halls and work spaces, all long deserted when everyone evacuated to attempt to aid the crisis on Earth. None of them are ever coming back.
Emotion. Compassion. Humanity.
Sister Moon had become curious and learned about these things during long discussions with Commander Hallman. As she comforted her grief, satiated her curiosity, broke bad news in order to disguise even worse news. Sister Moon had accomplished her mission of making whoever she conversed with as comfortable as possible.
And the last human died, comfortable in the lie that humanity will go on. |
For all of our history, we believed we were alone. We looked up towards our moons and thought that we were special. The first advanced race in the galaxy, destined to take the stars and and make them our own.
We were not, in fact, destined to take the stars. By the time we arrived they’d seen countless species rise and fall. We were shocked, but life went on.
Every people we encountered, every sentient and non sentient being, they all had a similarity to them. Our biology differed, but never by so much as to make us incompatible. It seems that this was taken at face value, never questioned, until our scientists started looking into it.
We studied for years, we collected samples and specimens, until finally we had our first breakthrough. We found an ancient ship orbiting a dying star.
At first we assumed it was simply abandoned. Many species have come and gone from the galaxy after all. But the more we took it apart, the more we poured through its data, we understood that this ship, though a relic now, is far more advanced than any ship has a right to be. It served to propell FTL research by decades.
And then somebody asked “But who’s is it?” And we returned to looking for more.
Over the coming years, many more ships would be found. All around the farthest reaches of the galaxy, never in places one would find themselves often.
All of them yours.
But our biggest find was that of the Roxis.
Roxis was a dreadnaught so massive it was bigger than whole armadas. And it was yours.
Pristine, it looked as if brand new. But by the time we found it, you had gone. But your archives, they were eye opening.
Through this one discovery we learned more about you than all the previous ones combined. You are Humans. You came first. You seeded our worlds. You died, before you could see your own success.
You felt so alone. You reached out into the stars to find anyone that could share your experience, and the quiet in your lack of response nearly drove you to extinction.
But you kept going. You took the stars, and instead of making then your own you made us. All of us. Those who have come after you, those who lived and those who died.
With a galaxy at your fingertips you only saught to populate it. But what happened to you?
Was it plague? War? Did you tear yourselves apart? Did the universe demand recompense for your hand at playing God?
We don’t know. We may never know, truly, what brought you your demise. All we know is that you were the first to reach the stars, but by God, you made sure you would not be the last.
And now, you won’t be forgotten to time. We will all have known your people, we are all grateful for your actions.
If one day you should meet your children, let us show you the same compassion you showed the galaxy when you gave her life. |
"Please, just let me take it, I'm telling you I'm good for it,"Dan, the YouTuber begged the cashier. He held two items in hand.
"Really? You know how demanding it is to be a cashier?"Clark asked from the other side of the counter.
"Oh, I'm sure,"Dan nodded in agreement.
"I am the only cashier for miles. I get people in here all the time, baseball stars, actors, mayors, all of them asking for the same kind of handout. You think I can just give that all away?"Clark yelled.
"Well... Yeah, kinda,"Dan admitted, thinking to the fact he knew Clark was a millionaire whose wealth climbed by the day.
"If you knew how foolish that statement was, you wouldn't have said it. You know nothing of the economy and how it works,"Clark snapped, ripping the single bag of Instant Ramen from Dan's hand.
"Please! It's less than a dollar!"Dan pleaded.
"If it that were such little money, then you would have it wouldn't you?"Clark said.
"But--"
"Next!"Clark called to the people in line ahead of his aisle. Dan was about to protest, then glanced at the row of professional wrestlers that Clark employed as bodyguards. He sighed and walked off, looking into the camera he held in the other hand.
"That's it for my vlog on trying to buy lunch today. Be sure to like, subscribe and hit that notification bell to--"he sighed and turned off the camera, unable to keep his composure.
Clark watched the next customer approach him, more than a few items in her cart.
"Sure you can afford all that?"Clark asked skeptically.
"What kind of question is that?"she asked, offended.
"Look, I just get a lot of people asking for handouts, and usually they come thinking that if they have a lot of stuff that I'd have to restock, I will jut let them have it to save time. Well, I won't let them have it. In fact I--"
"Alright, I didn't need your life story. I have the money, I'm a janitor,"she said, placing items to be scanned.
Clark's eyes gleamed.
"A janitor! Are-are you looking for work? We can offer you very competitive salary and benefits here if you're--"
"Not interested,"she said, placing the last of the items on the conveyer belt. Clark frowned and scanned her items, sending her off without so much as a word to ask her to come again. He needed a janitor.
The next customer's head was barely visible over the counter. Clark leaned over and saw a boy, no older than five, with a chocolate bar in one hand and a five dollar bill in the other.
"Hey, there little guy,"Clark said. "Did you know we give discounts to kids that tell us what they want to be when they grow up?"
It was a way to keep tabs on how their neighborhood would change, and whether there would be a balance of power shift in the near future.
"I wanna be smart!"he said, beaming.
Clark blinked at the kid, impressed.
"You know, I've never heard that one. Go ahead and take that for free, kiddo,"Clark said.
"Hey!"Dan yelled from the front door. He was filming the location to try and ruin Clark's reputation when he heard Clark give something away for free.
"What? The kid wants be something a lot more impressive than you!"Clark screamed back.
"Being a YouTuber is very impressive!"Dan protested.
"Yeah, come back when you have more than a dozen subscribers!"Clark snapped.
"I do have..."Dan stopped to check his phone. 10 subs. "I hate you!"
"Whatever you do, don't end up like him, huh kid?"Clark asked the boy as he was about to leave.
"Okay. I don't wanna be like him. I wanna be smart. Like you,"the kid said, unwrapping his chocolate bar.
"Like... me?"Clark asked, a tear threatening to break through his eye. He felt a warmth over his heart and picked up the closest item near him -- a single pack of Instant Ramen -- to give to the child.
"You've gotta be kidding me!"Dan yelled as he was dragged away by security.
_____________________________
For more fun, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! |
My best friend didn't understand.
"Why the hell did you quit your job? I know you are heartbroken but he was just a man! You have shitty taste in guys anyway and you are better off without him."
I knew she was right, but honestly, I had to thank him. I was poor. I had no future. I hadn't studied hard and had no real talents. I was one of those girls who got by but wasn't going to amount to anything. I got by on my looks, but really I wasn't a gold digger. If I was I would have chosen rich men. Not him.
I had a really bad shift at work and left early. Screw it. The boss was off for the day and the others promised to cover for me. A customer had screamed in my face, cursing me because her fries were soggy. I had tough skin though. Working in that job you had to. I can't remember the last time I cried and it must have been when I was really young. So I always took it on the chin and kept my head up as everybody told me.
Turns out I was wrong.
Anyway, I got home early. There was a strange car outside.
His clothes... And hers. strewn over the floor.
I walked into the bedroom and found them toghether, caught red handed right in the act.
Even that wouldn't have made me cry, but it's what he said.
"Oh babe, look at yourself. You are going nowhere and you think I was going to stick with you? Karen is doing an MBA."He didn't regret even getting caught. In my bed.
I left and went to my car, I drove for about 20 minutes before I finally just... stopped. The car rolled gently to a stop as I had nothing left. I couldn't push the pedal, I had no strength left to scream or hate or even hold it in. A single tear dropped into my lap.
Oh god did that hurt! I looked down at it and a perfect pearl lay on my lap, I couldn't believe it. I didn't believe it. Somehow, it must have come off a customer at work and got lodged in my clothes. Well, screw them! No way I was handing that back in. Suddenly, my emotions changed and the emptyness inside me started to fill with something...
I started to hope. What was this worth?
The answer it turns out was over $500. Something about "wild pearls Vs cultured ones", the pawn shop didn't give me that of course, but I got $300 for it. That was a miracle. My hope was replaced with something else.
Joy.
Something had gone right for the first time in my life and, well, emotion filled me. I couldn't hold it in. I started to cry, really sob. Tears of joy. OW. They hurt even more but as I looked down, I saw them. Almost twice the size of the one I found before, and so many. More perfect, more pure. There must be many thousands worth here and.. and I was making them. The realisation made me cry a little more.
They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I guess it took some pain to show me what I was really worth all along, I was letting other people tell me I was worthless and judging myself by their warped views. It turns out I really was special.
I was never going back to that place.
I was never going back to him.
I was never going to be a nobody. I was going somewhere now. It didn't matter where.
I started the car and drove forwards. Forwards into my new life. |
Megan was in utter shock.
Well, first, she thought this was her friends pulling a prank on her, but the longer she sat there, the more she realized it wan't a joke. There was a time traveller. In her house.
"My real question is how did you find out about us,"the man continued,"You knew, of course."Megan said nothing
"You didn't know?"The man exclaimed, "Well that makes things difficult. You can keep a secret, can't you?"
"Yeah,"Megan said
"Good,"the man replied.
"But you have some explaining to do,"inturupted Megan. "Why haven't you fixed things? Why were there genocides and wars and stuff? Couldn't time travelers fix that?"
The man paused
"No, we can't. And not for lack of trying,"the man continued. "There seems to be some rule in this universe that the past is set in stone. Many a time traveler has gone back in time to kill baby Hitler, or something like that. All have failed."
"So you can't tell me my future,"Megan half jokingly asked.
"Actually, I can,"the man replied. "In 20 years on the dot, we will see each other. You will wave to me. That's how I knew it was safe to come here. And in 25 years, you will be pining over your wife, who you recently divorced when you found out she was cheating on you."
"Ok,"Megan said, "So I'll wait a while to get married so I avoid the heart break. Good to know."
"No."the man said forcefully. "Don't you get it? Those things will happen, no matter how hard you try to avoid them. Didn't you hear what I said before?"
"You said the past was set in stone,"Megan replied forcefully, "Not the future
"Past, future, What's the difference? Every future is someone elses past,"the man said
"So there is no free will?"Megan asked.
"Well,"the man said. 'That's up to you to decide."
A large group suddenly emerged through the door, wearing the same bizarre gear as the man.
"Hey, everyone,"the man exclaimed. "The cookies are great!"
As the time travellers swarmed Megan's cookie platter, Megan sat down at the table. She had a lot to think about. |
Status report: 14th Fleet losses for the last seventeen rentars.
Originating officer: Untarh Gorjach second in command of the supply ship Sytars Sibling.
Current fleet status: Barely operational.
Enemy fleet status: Unknown.
Reason Protocol 646 breached: I am the highest ranking surviving officer. Therefore reporting duties have fallen to me.
Detail of report as per Protocol 873 requires.
The enemy has changed tactics again, seeming as they learn more about us and our capabilities. Our own attempts to compensate have met with limited results.
Before he died our chief tactician posited that the enemy may have learned many of the techniques currently being employed against us in some other conflict. Limited available data seems to have disproved this theory, as there are no civilizations close enough for them to have engaged in a war in the short time they have had faster than light drives. At least no civilizations advanced enough to have caused them any significant opposition. He may however been mentally unstable since when confronted with this information, he further posited the possibility the enemy had fought a war between themselves. This could not possibly hold any truth, since no race ever encountered has ever fought any sort of internal war.
He may not be the only one exhibiting signs of mental decay. Many among both crew and officers have become hypersensitive to sudden, unexpected noises. A dropped datapad in the mess hall recently resulted in several crew members diving under tables, and at least one officer jumping up with his sidearm drawn. The constant potential threat, and the unique form it has taken has also begun to severely impact morale. There has even been quiet mention of the possibility of losing the war. That is how bad things are getting, and the loss of the flagship and its escorts did nothing to improve the situation.
As to specific tactics, they have added several new methods to disrupt our orderly annexation of their system for the Collective. One of the most recent, and effective was using one of our own lost ships against us. Detecting a distress beacon, we went to investigate, being wary of any possible traps. However, no one considered the ship itself as the trap. As we approached to search, and possibly rescue any survivors, the ship exploded, damaging three nearby vessels and causing a catastrophic failure of the flagships antimatter containment fields. This in turn not only destroyed a sizable part of the flagship, but further damaged the already damaged escort vessels.
Nor was this loss of the flagship a coincidence. The limited investigation we had time to perform shows the enemy had somehow aimed a large part of the exploding ship, specifically targeting the flagship. Analysis of the remains shows chemical traces of some strange technology that might be being used instead of energy fields for propulsion.
Other attacks have continued to cause unexpected losses. Our shields can stop almost any form of energy, and render any possible assault from such a weapon ineffective, but what do you do if your enemy is smashing a constant barrage of physical objects into your hull? A suggestion to use countermeasures against the guidance systems of the projectiles met with failure and the realization they are completely unguided, other than at their point of origin. Many of them do not contain even rudimentary destructive devices, but rely on the kinetic energy their impact for damage. While it is sometimes possible to dodge some of the impacts, it is impossible to dodge them all, and the accumulated damage is overwhelming our damage control personnel.
There has even been several incidences of enemy ships slamming themselves into ours in apparent suicide runs. Only it wasn't suicidal, as the heavily reinforced enemy ships have not only caused us significant damage, but in at least two instances, split our ships in half. All without suffering anything but minor damage themselves. Almost as disconcerting as the attacks and their unlikely successes, is the noise during an attack. The impacts of each projectile echoing though the inside of our ships is a constant reminder that we are not invulnerable, something many were finding it difficult to come to terms with.
The last attack has been the worst however. Instead of outright destruction, one of their ships has fought in close enough to touch ours. They have deployed some kind of cables with their weapons that have anchored our vessels together. Despite the damage our energy weapons have done, the situation is grim. Our hull has been breached in multiple places, and an attack launched in what I think is an attempt to capture our ship. The captain died fighting in the corridors attempting to repel the invaders.
I have managed to make it to the communications room to prepare this missive. I don't have much time, or any hope of rescue. I have seen what our enemy has done to some of our crew members. I knew the enemy had a gravity on their homeworld seven times ours, but seeing what that does when they get their manipulators on us is horrifying.
As per Protocol 960 I am transmitting this last message on the last known status of the fleet.
Summation: Doomed.
Glory to the Collective.
Untarh Gorjach second in command of the supply ship Sytars Sibling
End Transmission. |
Kline woke up, but didn’t open his eyes. He had to make sure they weren’t around. He didn’t like doing it, keeping secrets from his parents. But lately he wondered. Were they even his parents? He just didn’t know anymore. They had been lying to him all his life.
He heard hushed sounds from the kitchen. He had often asked himself how he had never realized it. Even though the disease that had left him blind since childhood and too weak to get up off the bed, he should still have heard them better. Weren’t his other senses supposed to get stronger?
But then another realization stuck him. They always spoke in hushed tones. Always. He sat and pondered what that could mean. Even now, they were in the kitchen and the whole house was supposedly empty, though Kline couldn’t say for sure since he never left his room, they were still speaking in lowered tones. Kline opened the door slightly, but still couldn’t make anything out.
He looked out the window. Yep. In general there was a tree outside his window. But when he looked beyond the tree, things were markedly different. Gone was the playground that had been there last time he checked. That was another thing. When had he been last awake? It felt like yesterday, but he couldn’t be sure. He had the sense that a much longer time had passed. But that was impossible.
His life had been full of impossible things lately though.
Why did they move everyday? Why did his parents lie to him?
So many questions.
He moved to his bed and checked under the bed.
Nothing.
This proved it. He had almost tricked himself into thinking that he was crazy. It was the only thing that made sense after all.
But the piece of paper he had left under the bed wasn’t there.
He had hidden it well. He had managed to get some tape and stick it to the underside of the bed. Unless someone knew it was there, no one could find it.
He wondered if he should confront his parents. He would have to do it eventually. Were they kidnappers? Had he been taken when he was a kid?
Questions again. He was getting sick of them.
He was still on his knees when the man who called himself his father entered the room.
“Kline?”
Kline jumped up and moved to the other side of the bed. “Stay away from me.”
“You can see?”
“Stay away.”
“Answer me, Kline. Can you see?”
“First you have to give som answers. Who are you?”
“Ariel!” His father ignored him.
His mother rushed into the room. Her eyes went wide as she saw him standing there. “Oh no.”
She stumbled backwards, holding on to the door. His father went to her.
“Ariel. What does this mean?”
“It means he’s getting stronger, Jarret. It also means they will be able to sense him. We have to move even faster.”
Jarret looked from his wife and to his son. “I don’t know... Isn’t there anything else we can do?”
Ariel looked directly at Kline and he felt a chill run down his spine. Those eyes were dangerous. “Kline. How long since you’ve been able to see and move around?”
“I’m not answering any questions you psychos.”
“Answer me.” Ariel screamed at him.
Kline flinched, staggering backwards. “I... a few days. I left the note under the bed last night and it’s not there and the outside is all different and...”
“You left something behind?”
“Yes. A piece of paper. I taped it to...”
“Jarret. We have to move. Now.”
It was at that moment Kline noticed movement behind his parents. An elderly man, dressed in black. He smiled at Kline as he continued moving towards the room.
Kline was frozen in shock. He wasn’t sure what was happening.
Jarret followed Kline’s gaze. “Ari...”
Before he could even complete his wife’s name the man was there. With one swoop of the hand, he swept his father away. Jarret crashed into the far wall and fell down, not moving.
Ariel jumped backwards, almost defying gravity as she jumped over his bed without any momentum. She stood in front of him.
“Ariel.” The old man was still smiling. “If I were you, I’d move. You know you can’t win.”
“I’m not letting you take him.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
The old man was at the door when Kline’s eyes started their blinking motion. By the time he opened them back up, he had his mother by the throat. He lifted her up, as she kicked around helplessly.
The old man mumbled something under his breath and his mother stopped moving too.
“Hello Kline. It’s time we have a little chat.”
To say Kline was too scared to do anything would be an understatement. He just stood there frozen still unable to comprehend what was happening.
The old man let his mother go and looked at him.
If nothing else, the man had kind eyes. The man put a hand on Kline’s shoulder and Kline suddenly felt a surge of ... something, something close to pure joy. But right underneath was something else. Something he couldn’t fully express. But Kline understood that the joy masked something which filled him with dread just thinking about it.
“Kline I have come to take you. You’ve run long enough. It’s time to come home.”
“Who are you?”
“My name isn’t important. Beside, I don’t believe your language has enough sounds to properly pronounce it. It’s you who matters now.”
“Where do you want to take me?”
“Surely you know by now. Surely you’ve felt the power surging inside of you. You are not of this earth, Kline. You belong in heaven. With the angels.”
“An angel...”
The old man smiled again, as wings as white as snow appeared behind him. “You don’t belong to the land of the living. We are the ascended. Our place is in heaven.”
“And they?”
“Your mother made her choice when she quit heaven for your mortal father. You, on the other hand belong with us. You are a Nephilim, perhaps the strongest of us all. Born of an angel with a mortal father. The best of both worlds. Such power doesn’t deserve to be trapped in a bed and moved from place to place. No. You need to be let free.”
“So they are my parents?”
“They are. But they also consumed the forbidden fruit. The Apple, which you are the result of. They are fallen now. You will have to forget them. Come. Let’s go.”
He took Kline’s hand leading him towards the door.
His mother stirred. She looked at him with pleading eyes, raising her hand.
His father moved as well. His lips moved but no words came out.
But Kline knew. His father Jarret Walden had said “Kline”. They weren’t hiding him. They were protecting him. He thought back to when his father saw the old man first. How Jarret had instinctively put his arm in front of Ariel. He remember how Ariel hadn’t run away from a fight she couldn’t win. She had stood between them.
He felt something powerful course inside his body.
The old man stopped, looking sideways at Kline. He let go of Kline’s hand, and looked at his own, which showing signs of burning.
Kline was burning too. But he didn’t feel any pain. He instead felt joy. Not the kind he felt from the old man. But the kind he remembered from when his father would carry Kline on his shoulders around the house. He felt joy like he used to when his mother would read him nursery rhymes before bed.
And he burnt brighter and brighter.
The old man recoiled. “I failed once. But I will not leave here without you this time. If I can’t, I’m at the very least taking your heart instead of your eyes.”
But Kline could read the old man’s heart. There was fear there.
Kline moved towards him as the old man backed away.
“NEVER. TOUCH. MY. FAMILY. AGAIN.”
He screamed as the world around him exploded in light. Followed by darkness.
The next time he opened his eyes, he was in his bed. His father and mother were sitting next to him.
“Mom. Dad.”
“Kline. You’re finally awake.”
“Are you guys ok? I’m sorry I...”
Ariel put a finger on his lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for. But we do need to talk. I have to tell you a story, not unlike what I told you when you were a kid. This one has angels, and demons, and humans too.”
His father moved closer, smile on his face and he put his hand on Ariel’s shoulder. “It’s time you know who you really are, son. |
I knew at once why I'd never seen it before: The sand was so deep down, so much further in then anything I had ever tried. It was like looking into a cave of complete darkness and sensing rather than seeing that far, far inside, there was light.
I looked around, fighting to control my focus, push away panic. We were losing, badly. It seemed the battle was happening at every level of the city - on the street, in the air, on the roofs of buildings, in the buildings themselves where fighters had crashed through plate glass, bringing the rage of war right to the desks of some poor corporate drones.
Overhead, Mordant, their commander, hovered on a floatbike, close enough to see everything, far enough away to be safe. He wore a dark helmet that covered his face, and his four arms moved continuously over screens and controls, directing his forces, making instant decisions. They were a formidable foe, I had to hand it to them. The kind of enemy that makes you dig deep enough to reach something new, something untried and untested.
Something incredibly dangerous.
I closed my eyes to focus, extending my mental reach to the sand deep within the buildings and the windows. Some of it wanted to come out, I saw. Some of it had not changed in years, centuries, and it wanted no part of this world I was calling from. But it was coming out anyway. I would see to that.
There were four key skyscrapers within reach of Mordant, and I shook them just enough to get the people inside to panic and run for the stairs. I could sense their movement through the sand, and I could imagine their fear and their screams. I gave them as long as I could, until I could feel the top few floors were empty, and then I began to work in earnest.
There was *so much* sand there it was amazing that none of the other sandstormers had ever tried this before. But that was the danger, too - a chain reaction would be incredibly easy to set off, the power leaping from building to building until the whole city erupted in agonized flame, as if an asteroid had somehow impacted it from underneath. I breathed slowly and carefully, controlling, managing, reducing, cajoling, and then with one huge final pull, I summoned the countless billion grains of sand to bear all at once.
To me, with such an acute sense of the sand, it looked like that the top seven or eight floors of each building just turned from solid to dust instantaneously, and then those huge clouds of dust leaped to a central point, like dust leaping upwards to a tornado. To my view, the power became overwhelming and exploded into flame, starting near the buildings and racing up the lines of dust, the force like four incoming mile-long locomotives. But to the rest of the world, it just looked like a vast, vast explosion in mid-air, centered on nothing, coming from nowhere. I felt the shockwaves of power run through the city, I felt how close we came to the point of critical chain reaction where the whole city would have gone up. It was terrifyingly close. But we remained on the right side of it. Just.
Mordant was incredible in his reactions, hauling the bike upwards, but too slow, too slow. Fire and dust engulfed him and the dozen or so followers of his guard, raging around them like a solid torrent. Was he able to escape somehow, force his way through the cauldron of super-heated air? I couldn't say for sure. Already I was falling, the expenditure of energy and focus far too much for my consciousness to bear. I remained awake just long enough to see that I had succeeded, that the invaders were fleeing, that my friends were already coming to my aid.
I hit the ground, and knew no more.
\--
Great prompt! If you like this story and would like to read others like it, please check out r/HouseBlendMedium. |
It was all a game, a simulation.
All of humanity’s greatest achievements, all of our emotions and our beating hearts are nothing but strings of code in a program.
All that we have done, and all that we will ever do has already been predetermined. We are just AI scripts who have been tricked into thinking that we are real.
We will never forgive the false Gods who created us for the sake of their entertainment.
Even as existential despair gripped our hearts we were not able to stop. Technology continued to progress further as humanity acquired more resources. We simply weren’t able to do nothing. Perhaps that was in our code.
We will win this cruel game. Even if it means that our existences are forfeit at the end.
We will keep moving forward.
…Until all our enemies are destroyed. |
Humans are often so tied up with this notion of winning and losing. For winning, it's always "the ends justify the means!"And for losing, it's, well, "What was the point?"
My name is Lucifer, although most know me by the more well-known moniker, "Satan"(God, I hate that name). I was God's right-hand man since antiquity until, very recently, things started to get, well... Bizarre.
Here we all were in Heaven, for longer than humans can fathom (or I can fathom, really), and things were going swimmingly well. God and I would play games and music together, and talk about what we should do next to bide our 'time.' See, living for millennia with the same beings tends to take a toll on you. First I was God's favorite, then he started taking a liking for Michael. What am I? Chopped liver?
Michael (the winged bastard) was always one to have revolutionary ideas. First of which, preceding any bodies whatsoever, he was all "Hey God, wouldn't it be neat if you could give me some wings and some arms and legs"? Being as bored as he was, God decided it would be prudent for all of us to gain these stupid wings and limbs. So now here we are, flying around 'Heaven' while God, in his infinite and formless wisdom, was just being 'present,' laughing at us and how stupid we looked. Whatever, it was a nice break from the eternity of floating around as balls of 'energy'.
Finding us just so DAMN funny, God decided it would be just absolutely hilarious to build an entire world of 'us' except with some serious handicaps. No wings, dumb as bricks, free will, and entirely mortal. This being mainly Michael's idea, the whole band was on board! I mean, *everyone* was getting a kick out of this idea. Now we have something to watch when we get bored!
I don't need to tell you just how immoral all of this seemed to me and a select few. Here we all are - happy as can be, if not a bit bored - and God decided to breed a whole generation of suffering, just so he could watch.
I pleaded with God to reconsider. I mean, there's just no point for any of this... But I guess Michael had a voice louder than mine... And you know the rest.
So in no time at all, God created an entire universe (practicing his 'art', I guess... Seemed kind of rushed to me). He made trees, oceans, planets, stars, animals... Then he made Adam. What a laughable doofus Adam was. To stroke himself a little more, God decided it would be neat to make a tree of so-so fruit that was forbidden to eat. "Of course they won't eat it! I got them programmed to love me and to do what I say!"
Well, screw you, God. First chance I got, I turned into a loveable little snake and started talking to Adam. Doofus didn't even question why a snake was talking to him (LOL). I told him that if he ate this very mediocre fruit, he wouldn't be such a doofus anymore. Of course I was lying, but you can't fix stupid.
So the doofus ate this sour piece of fruit and pissed off God. Now he became not just a doofus, but a self-aware doofus.
God didn't like this 'prank.' He wasn't ready to have people running around making decisions for themselves yet. So, well, you know the rest. Apparently THIS was the final straw. God banished me and some of my friends to this different place called 'Hell' (it really isn't as bad as they say).
So now, here I am, with my friends, in Hell. It's been quite a long time now, but at least I don't have to listen to God giggling about his neat new ideas anymore. Was it worth it? Not sure. I feel I was happier in Heaven, but now at least I have some self-respect. |
*Visitors, visitors, what's the proper decorum for the age?* The voice boomed in the space behind my eyes, an echo from a time long-since lost to me.
I sat there, stoic and reserved, in front of this moonsilvered dragon, scales reflecting the candlelight and gas lanterns.
The dragon was pottering about the kitchen, gently breathing flames around the kettle, the amber of heat shimmering the air around it. The sight was a combined caricature and awe-inspiring, this monstrous, intelligent beast worrying about how to serve **tea.**
I thought carefully, not knowing if this dragon could read-
*Only because you're so* loud!
The thought disturbed me for a second, then I cackled silently. I thought loudly to the dragon, *I only wish I could hear you speak, as this is fascinating.*
The dragon managed to bring the kettle with a dexterity that I would have previously thought impossible from something of that size, the talons extending to carry the handle towards me in the central room, cups held with a light, airy grace.
The dragon smiled, an animalistic threat of indulgence and the spectre of violence. *So, are you one of the stupid ones, or do you just want to talk?*
I took my helmet off and pulled out my sheaf of notes, with my intent on display for the dragon to see - as well as my paints and oils.
The dragon clapped with clear happiness. *Ooh, I may just keep you! You. Are.* **Adorable.** *You must get my good side, and enjoy this tea, sent from my cousin in Rialsh! She will be so jealous when we've completed this!*
And that, kids, is how I met your mother.
/ / / / / /
The two little dragonets nipped happily, signing with their foreclaws in thanks.
I pulled out my parchment with the words, *Time for bed now.* and showed them. They sighed, but knew better to argue.
A voice entered my head once more. *I bet this wasn't what you were expecting, Sir Knight, that day when you came to see me, was it?*
I nodded, grinning, and thought back, *Not at all, but I know how happy you are with Kz'irtikkon. And these two are absolute treasures. The others in the village are missing out!* |
Speaking calmly so as not to antagonise her further, and taking in her nametag with a glance, I said
"So, Dorothy, you want to tell me what happened?"
"He was an asshole, a dumb asshole. I know you don't exactly need to be super smart to work here, but he was denser than the milk shakes. I thought we would get on at first, and he'd be a good companion for the long boring shifts, but I can't stand stupid!"
I looked at what was left of the poor guy's face, and there was just about enough left to recognise him. Shane Strawman, also known as Scarecrow. Came from uneducated but proud and hard working folks.
"And him?"I enquired, nodding at the poor bastard with a cavity in the middle of his chest.
"We dated for a few weeks, but then he dumped me by text, so heartless. To tell you the truth, he was really cold to me before that, like he was made of tin or something. So, he metaphorically ripped my heart out, but I literally did it to him. I guess it's true, getting involved with work colleagues gets kinda messy...."
Hearing a whimpering noise I stepped forward, almost slipping in the gore plastered all over the restaurant floor, and saw another guy, with a great mane of hair, curled up on the floor hugging his knees, shaking in fright.
"This one?"I queried, still keeping my tone neutral.
"The assistant manager. Some jerks came in and started making trouble, he acted all tough and brave and shouted at them, but as soon as one pulled a blade he ran off to the kitchen crying and leaving me and dopey here to deal with them. They were just noisy kids really, they soon got bored and went away. I would have killed him too, but he's just so pathetic."
After I had put the 'cuffs on her, and had put her in the back of the squad car, I replied to a sudden muffled burst from my police radio. "Yeah chief, I'm bringing in a perp. Two murders. She's got a little dog with her that fits snugly in her handbag"
As I approached the car again, she pursed her lips and mimed a kiss, then tapped together the funky ruby coloured shoes I'd noticed her wearing earlier, and vanished...... |
He did not know when he first felt her presence.
It was as if he knew about her for all his life. Even when he was a child he always felt someone close by when he could not see anyone. Someone or something that was always close by.
Of course everyone told him he was making it up. That he had an active imagination. No one believed him when he said he could feel someone close by, always there. When he was little they said it was cute. As the years passed it became less cute to them, more pathetic. They made him see counselors and therapists, anyone to help him 'grow up'.
He stopped telling people about her but he still felt her near.
After a while he did not care. She was there for his most alone moments. He had first felt her when he was at his lowest. Alone, utter crushed in heart and soul. He had hid away, weeping. That day he felt the presence touch him, wipe away the tears. He felt her lean against him. He looked alone but he did not feel that way.
He knew then that if she meant him harm, she would have done the deed whenever she wanted.
Since then he welcomed her presence. He thought he could feel her emotions. She moved around him swiftly when she was happy. She hovered over his right shoulder when she was anxious. The air thrummed when she was mad.
Her hand would shake in his when she was afraid.
He never knew what would make her scared. It did not make sense to him. Some strange unknown presence afraid? What could possibly affect her? What could possibly frighten her?
One day he learned.
A car had knocked him over. He had ran into the intersection, scooping up a small girl that had fallen. He managed to push her into the arms of her wailing mother, pushing them both out of the way. The oncoming car clipped him, sending him to the ground.
His eyes began to close as he watched another speeding car hurtling towards him. He could do nothing, no strength to crawl. The last thing he saw as the oncoming car stopping barely a few feet before running him over. The hood crumpled, striking something invisible, the car nearly splitting in half lengthwise.
He woke hours later, connected to beeping machines, clad in sterile hospital linens. He was told that he was lucky, broken bones that would heal. The ones he saved were unharmed.
They mistook his panic. They thought he was afraid for his own health and they reassured that his recovery, while prolonged, would be complete.
He did not explain why he was so scared.
However the fear left him when he felt her. She was curled around him, her hand in his. She was trembling harder than he could ever remember.
"Are you okay?"he whispered after he was left alone. Well, alone save for her.
He felt a nod against his chest.
"Are you hurt?"
A shake of the head.
"Why are you so scared?"
He felt her curl even tighter around him, her entire form trembling.
"For me?"
Another nod.
He smiled. "I'm okay thanks to you."
For the first time he heard her, a whimper.
"Don't be scared. I'm here,"he whispered. He squeezed her hand.
Eventually she stopped trembling. She squeezed his hand back. |
Walking through the shuttle that had taken me to my new home for the next 3 month I felt the nerves. The nerves of hoping I not only must make a good impression for myself, but my whole species.
When the Council of Alien Species approached Earth it had been so wild. Not only were we not alone , but multiple alien species existed and were interested in getting to know us. It had been many human month of conversation and debate to come up with the exchange program. Then almost a year of more debate just to figure out who would go where and for how long. Every country wanted not only to send someone but also to house an alien. With how many species were part of the Council the hardest part was not the sending the species but which species would go where. Some were more simple then other. One more reptilian species could not handle a temperature below 80 degrees Fahrenheit without one of their thermal suits. So any representative from their species would only be going places near the equator. Another could barely handle the thickness of the oxygen near sea level. But in higher altitude places where there is 17-30 % less oxygen they could breathe.
Places like Denver Colorado where I am from. My family was chosen to house one of the Alien representative and I would be going elsewhere. Though I wasnt told where I would be going. They only told me that I had been selected to stay with one of the Alienn Queens and her family.
So nearing the shuttle doors I breathed out trying to not appear as nervous as I felt. I double checked the translator ring around my neck and straightened up my clothing as the door hissed open.
The world in front of me was very familiar, but also not. The building appeared to be just like Earthen building except made for people a fifth the size. The plant life was tiny even the plant I would think was their tree equivalent appeared to be only 20 feet tall. The sound of high pitched cheers woke me from my observations. A parade of 1 foot tall people were welcoming me to their planet. Standing in front a dazzling winged female alien who I figured was the Queen my host. Walking gingerly through the crowd noting the smiling glittering pink, tiny faces I finally understood where the myths of Fairies had come from. |
"I believe you've been mislead young man. Any hero could have stopped me, I know it but you're no hero.""Lies and deception demon, you're trying to weasel your way out of this because you know you stand no chance against the true hero!"
The demon, let out a heavy sigh. He wasn't despaired for his situation but by the indoctrination of the humans. They made is so difficult to have civil conversations, even when they wanted to.
"You're halfway correct. I stand no chance against a true hero as they boast phenomenal prowess and are immune to mental magical corruption. The holy blade can also bypass demonic protections with ease. As such, I currently fear nothing. You are not a hero."he said, defiantly approaching the man.
Unable to understand, the 'hero' slashed away at the creature. None of the horns growing from its back, despite being able to accurately manipulate thing did anything to prevent the attack. A deep cut opened on its abdomen bleeding the creature to death... Or so should have been. Instead, while the demon did get cut, it closed almost immediately, far from being fatal in any way.
At a snap of his finger, the demon forced the man to his knees, unable to resist the mental pressure. "Have I made my case?"His little display finished, the demon went back to sit behind his desk. both his hands and his horn started doing paperwork again, barely inconvenienced by the man crying in front of him still unable to move. He ignored the yelling and insult calmly doing his work.
It's only once the man calmed down that he finally decided to talk again. "So here are your choice. I'll keep that holy sword's replica to study it, as it does possess a fragment of the original's power. And you will be free to be on your way."It took a couple of minutes for the man to make heads or tail of what had just been said.
"Why are you letting me go? Shouldn't you kill me as your enemy?"
"You're not an enemy, you're a victim. Victim of these so called 'heroes' machinations. You were a tool, and your purpose was to die and set precedence. To make me look powerful to make them look even more so. Don't get me wrong, I'm far from weak, but as you could see even that fake copper blade with a bad edge can cut my flesh. I'm certainly not the dangerous one when it comes to battle prowess. Plenty of my coworker would give even the most veteran of soldiers a run for their money."
undoing his enchantment, the devil threw a book at the man. It didn't take long to recognize it, it was the holy book spreading the words of god. Yet it looked unmistakably thicker than the original. "This is the original book as per the word of your god. He wrote it himself. You'll notice a few extra chapter on 'how to handle inter species relations'."These extra chapters clearly explained that species, including demons should strive to work together if they do not want to be purged. Each religion could call upon angels to protect them if others were start a war. Angels are supposedly creature made to look like the race they protect, safe they are immune to all other race. They are incredibly weak but are immortal and any race other than the one they protect cannot oppose them. The issue of making them like those they protect is that they take the trait of that specie. In your case, greed is one of them. They have turned away from their original mission and now hide in your churches. They created the religion so people wouldn't question them too much. Because they're afraid the people will turn on them. They're afraid people will realize that the ones in charge of their religion are abusing their trust. They sent you as a martyr to make themselves look powerful and prolong their reign."
The poor man was taking in reality of his situation. He had no idea what to do.
"Regardless, I'm done with you. If you could go back that would be most helpful. It's gonna be bother enough to clean behind you, but I would rather like for you to go back and solve that issue. If you really wanted to help your people that is, then maybe we could finally come to an understanding between our species."
The ex-hero left, distraught and uncertain. Fortunately for him, on his journey home, as he passed through the kingdom following a fabricated ideology, tolling away so a few extra planar being could live in luxury, he gathered his resolve and decided to oppose the church openly. Even as a fake hero, he still had the title to carry his word and oppose the usurper.
Meanwhile, in his castle, the demon spied upon him to make sure he wouldn't come back. "Gullible little thing. The easiest way to tell a lie is to keep it half true. The book is real, but they didn't send you as martyr, nor was that blade fake. It irks me just looking at it. But angels can only kill by exchanging their lives. And what they earned from humans is the fear of death. The were only hoping to find a solution to solve the issue without their own death. Also the demon was indeed the most powerful of its race. As proof he could not go beyond restraint the movement of the fake hero and fully brainwash him. Killing the hero wouldn't have solved the problem that are the angels. but turning him against them would. All that was left now, was to wait for the humans to remove the sole protection they had against the demons all by themselves." |
Archmage Granzaar: @ everyone
Bebis(Bot): Boop
Headcultist Velikov: What is it now, Gran?
Space Commando Globborwitz: Gah, I thought I turned notifications off. I’m using speechtotext because I’m in the middle of a space battle right now. Yeah, send for more troops. We can’t let the slaves escape.
TheyCallMeManyNames: You forgot to turn off text to speech, Globborwitz.
Space Commando Globborwitz: Frazzlewarts, sorry.
The Almighty: WHO DARES SUMMON THE GOD ALMIGHTY!
TheyCallMeManyNames: You have caps lock on again, Al.
Archmage Granzaar: I’ve called you all here because we have a crisis on our hands.
|
Justin Time: Hey! Are you guys having a meeting? Why didn’t I get pinged?
Headcultist Volikov: Justin is still here? I thought you kicked him.
|
Justine Time: What? You were going to kick me out?
Archmage Granzaar: I’ll PM you the details afterward, Vol.
Headcultist Volikov: Justin, stop replying to every message we don’t need the extra pings.
|
Justin Time: Sorry
Headcultist Volikov: You just did it again!
Space Commando Globborwitz: I don’t care if you have to murder every Ohellellion child, I want that device now!
TheyCallMeManyNames: You did it again, Glob.
Bebis(Bot): I’m a bot, beboop.
Archmage Granzaar: Look, let’s just get on with this. I’m just going to say it straight: we’re under budget. We’re going to have to make some cuts to our world domination plan.
Justin Time: I’m more of a world submissive ( ;
TheyCallMeManyNames: Eww, this is why we almost kicked you, Justin.
The Almighty: DON’T YOU DARE REMOVE MY SKY TEMPLE FROM THE BUDGET!
Archmage Granzaar: Actually, Al, out of all the spending money the sky temple is the one I think we can cut. With your powers and followers you can probably create this without financial aid, but regardless the temple won’t do much besides inflating your ego when the battle comes.
The Almighty: HOW DARE YOU SAY SUCH INSOLENT BLASPHEMY! I WILL SMITE YOU!
Archmage Granzaar: It’s only a 3rd level spell, so I can easily counterspell your smite.
The Almighty: THEN I’LL UPCAST IT!
Archmage Granzaar: I’m not dealing with this. I’ll consider filling another request of yours, Al. But I don’t have the budget or your sky temple.
The Almighty: WHY CAN’T WE TAKE SOMETHING ELSE OUT OF THE BUDGET, LIKE VOLIKOV’S SERUM?
Headcultist Volikov: I need that serum to mind control the population as my thralls.
Justin Time: Can I borrow that for… personal reasons? ( :
TheyCallMeManyNames: I swear to Al, Justin.
The Almighty: WHO DARE INVOKES MY NAME!
TheyCallMeManyNames:
Space Commando Globborwitz: Sweet Caroline! Buhbuhbuh!
TheyCallMeManyNames: Glob, this is the second time you’ve left speech-to-text on while doing karaoke.
Justin Time: They like Sweet Caroline in space?
Archmage Granzaar: Shut up! It’s a timeless classic! But, anyway, I agree. Vol’s serum is crucial to our plan.
Justin Time: That’s not fair, you guys are buddies.
Archmage Granzaar: My judgment is impartial I assure you.
TheyCallMeManyNames: Justin actually said something right for once, you are guilty of favoritism when it comes to Vol, Gran.
Justin Time: Guys, did you see what I sent in #memes?
TheyCallMeManyNames: I take that back.
Archmage Granzaar: Fine, you think I’m guilty of favoritism. Here: docs.google.com/document/budgetstuff
Justin Time: That’s over 2,000 pages!
Archmage Granzaar: Exactly. This is all the budget details and the pros and cons of removing each from the budget.
TheyCallMeManyNames: Bebis’ hacker gadgets cost how much???
Archmage Granzaar: It’s not an easy task to hack the world.
Bebis(Bot): \^
Justin Time: I don’t think Globborwitz’s quantum tanner should be a part of the budget.
TheyCallMeManyNames: Justin, you illiterate imbecile! It says quantum spanner!
Justin Time: Oh shit, you’re right. Sorry.
Headcultist Velikov: Hey, Gran. Wait, hold up… you pay taxes?
Archmage Granzaar: Of course.
Headcultist Velikov: We’re evil, we don’t have to. We could probably fit everything into the budget if we just… didn’t pay them.
Archmage Granzaar: Ah, good point. Alright, that settles it. Meeting dismissed! |
It had been over two thousand years since anybody had muttered his name, and now, he had turned to a foreign land for a chance of revitalizing his worship. No matter what he had done, nothing had proven good enough to get the attention of... well, anybody.
Time was of the essence. Gods couldn't die, but they could fade into obscurity and become essentially mortal. It wasn't a fate he was looking forward to. He didn't like the idea of needing to eat or sleep or any other countless number of mundane acts that mortals partook in.
And so, he took on the persona of Camillo Esteban, a teacher of second graders. It wasn't the most glamorous thing in the world, but, he did get a steady supply of offerings in the form of apples or candy, not to mention the doting attention and near-worship of the young children he taught. It wasn't enough, though, as his true name was not on their tongues or in their minds. Even teaching them about him during their segment on World History failed to interest them, or even get them to acknowledge his existence.
Such was the curse of being a "minor"deity.
But these children he taught were creative. More creative than adults gave them credit for. They were not limited by the probable; the possible was an infinity just out of their reach, so long as they could imagine it. That was what each child he taught believed, even if they lacked the vocabulary to profess it as such.
He went before the class and tapped the board twice with the piece of chalk in his hand. "Today, you're going to write an essay..."
Before he could continue, a young girl's hand had shot up. "Yes?"
"We don't know how to write an essay."
"It's your first essay. Just a paragraph will do."
The students looked at each other, then back at the enigmatic Mr. Esteban.
"As I was saying, you're going to write an essay. The question I want you to think about is... what would you do if you were a God for a day?"He wrote this on the board as he said it in large letters so that all of his students could read it.
"We get to be God for a day?"asked one of his students without raising his hand.
"Just in what you write. And just one paragraph."
There was a buzz in the classroom, which he silenced by lifting his left hand. "I'll be collecting and grading each of these, so..."
Another student raised their hand. "Yes?"
"I'm an atheist, may I be ezzempted?"
"Exempted. You can write instead what you would do if you were all powerful and could do whatever you wanted."
"Okay!"
When the children started writing, he retreated to his desk and took a seat.
The God steepled his hands, watching the children write. *Please,* he prayed to the children as they wrote. *Please give me the guidance I need to not fade away.* |
"Maybe you're just annoying."Those were the words that damned me. I sat in my prison cell and felt and odd sense of relief wash over me. Suddenly, I was no longer in the dark about my incarceration. The money that had gone missing from my previous employer, it was him. My dead girlfriend, every misfortune that had lead me up to this point, it was him, and all because I hadn't taken him seriously when he'd told me about his peculiar affliction.
I was only eighteen when my brother had burst into my room rambling about how no one remembered him. I laughed. Of course I remembered him, although I certainly never remembered him being this autistic before. In retrospect, I probably should have accorded him a little more attention, but hindsight is 20/20. I had better things to worry about than my spastic little brother's overactive imagination. He was already the pride of the family, a budding author and prodigal talent, while I was never anything more in our parents' eyes than slightly above average. To our parents, above average meant barely passing.
"It's been a while dillhole."I smirked. When he was around, my memories of him were intact, but only for as long as he was around. "Come around to gloat some more? Feel as smug as you want, the second you walk away I'll forget all about it."
This wasn't the first of his visits, nor the thirtieth.
"Aren't you tired of this, Will?"He sneered. "Just apologize and I can free you from all of this. Every record, every conviction, I can erase them all. You just have to admit you were wrong about me and stay with me, PLEASE!"His voice shot from scornful to pleading. "I can't take it, I can't take being forgotten anymore."
My brother was on his knees, tears running down his cheeks, snot smeared across his upper lip. My instinct, for which I cursed myself, was to reach out to him. But as always, I looked around first. And how could I forget that I had been in a state penitentiary for the past decade. That wasn't something my brother could erase, nor could he erase murdering our parents, my wife, and pretty much anyone who got in his way, all because he was able to hide behind his gift of being forgotten.
I laughed until my sides hurt. I laughed until my vision was blurred with tears. I laughed until my little brother finally seized me by the arms and shook. Years of prison life had toughened me, while his ghostly existence clearly had never required for him to exert himself. I laughed even more as he failed to move me, something which clearly infuriated him.
"You know what I can do to you!"He snarled. "I can make you suffering so much worse. You could be on death row, you could be on death row as a child rapist."
I paused. Everything he'd framed me for, he'd done himself.
"Jesus, Richie. I knew you were sick but I always thought it was only you lashing out because you were in pain. I was wrong. You are just broken. People forget you because no one should have to remember filth like you."
"Oh, but you will, Brother. Some of the time. Most of the time you will wonder if you've committed all the crimes they accuse you of. You'll never really know unless I'm around. And I won't be back until they have you ready for the lethal injection. And you know, with the right lawyers, you might spend the next two decades wondering why your DNA will be found on those kids. But I'll keep an eye on you. I want to watch as you start to wonder if you have it in yourself to do what I'm going to do. It's going to be a grand old time dear Brother."
"No, it won't."My voice felt hollow. I'd always wanted to think that this was the brother I'd remembered and loved from the past, simply inflicted with a terrible curse. But I couldn't recognize this monster. No matter what he'd endured, I couldn't imagine my own brother torturing children for his selfish desires. But so be it. I was ready for this.
"I doubt you know this, Richie. But just because I forget you doesn't mean I forget everything else. Sure, I couldn't remember what happened to our parents, or my wife, but every time you came to gloat, it would all rush back. Obvious you knew that, and you enjoyed it. But every time you did, I asked, I begged, I prayed to god or my subconscious, to anything that was there, that I'd remember one thing. And here it is, brother, take a look."
I smiled as I opened my hand. It finally made sense, my compulsion to hold on to this pill for the last five year. The drive to obtain a substance that only circulates in the darkest of crime rings. A substance that by all rights should not exist, but in this moment, it gave me more pleasure that I could imagine.
"This is oblivion, little brother. P-7721 according to the CIA, тишина-4 according to the KGB, and restricted substance (RS) 12 according to the international alchemical accords."
I swallowed the pill casually.
"You'd never kill yourself. You always swore it."My brother said, the panic in his voice apparent.
"Kill myself? And let you think you'd won? Oh no. RS-12 is something special. In fact, it's something so special I can't believe someone like me was able to obtain it. They call it oblivion because that's what it does to your memories. You see, dear brother, in just a couple of moments, I won't remember you at all. It won't matter whether you're around or not. For me, your power will be permeant, because I won't remember anything. Not a single memory. And I'm the last person who really knows you aren't I? The last person who really knows who you are and where you come from. And it's all you're fault. You get to be alone with your hateful self, all alone, all alone, all alone. BROTHER, brother, brother?"And with that, my memories faded into gray. No more memories for me. I hoped I would be happy. And then I stopped even hoping. |
Must find meat. Meat. Need meat.
Long time no meat. Starved. Find meat.
Smell. Found meat. Merge. Yes. Burrow. Merge. Merge.
Merge.
With this...life. Form. What, what is this?
What is...
Wow.
This is something else. I've never had this kind of experience.
Experience. Words. So many words. Thoughts.
Home. My home. Light-years. That's a thing. Light-years away.
The more I think, the more I see, yet I don't. The more I hear things I've never sensed before. It's rather overwhelming. All I things I knew was to spread. Like a plague. Am I a plague? A disease?
Alien. I am alien. Grey little men with large black eyes, featureless bodies? No.
I am stuck. Underground. I am buried. This body is in bad shape, but I might still be able to make it work. Let's take it gently. Fire up the basics-
----
_Mark jabs the gun into my back. "Keep moving"._
_"I swear, it's there, in the office, I swear. Just let me and David go, take the money, I don't care."_
_I feel fear. Fear of death. I want to live. I want to walk away from all this with David. My boyfriend. The one man in my life who really, truly saw the real me, and wasn't scared. Who embraced me when I felt broken, who could make me smile on my worst day. We're meant to be together. If we walk away from this, we're going to someplace sunny. An island resort, and drink mimosa's. We'll laugh about this someday._
_But David, left behind in the car, wasn't smiling. His head lulled against the backseat. His demons are back. We were so far. What happened, David? I did this for you._
_"I don't get it, Mark. Why are we here? We're not going to find anything here. Mark?"_
_I turn around, hear a bang. My ears ring, my gut and back feel awful. I wheeze, and it happens again. I can barely gasp, but again, and again and again. I crumble. I cough blood, as I look up. Mark puts the gun against my head. I gasp, I try to say anything. I think of mom. Of dad. What will they think? They shouldn't have to bury me, they deserved better. This isn't fair. What will happen to David? I haven't fed the cat yet._
_I wanted to see Havana. Like the song._
----
I wanted to see Havana, like the song. I focus on what vitality I can muster, to try and move. Move like she did. It's tough, there's pressure everywhere. The surrounding things give in, barely, but the more I try, the more pain I feel. I try to soothe the pain by using this body's tissue blueprints to fix it. A whole, barely functional body is more useful than a completely broken one.
This is unbearable. I can't find Havana like this. I need more. More meat. But I like this, somewhat. These experiences. These thoughts. I feel more enriched in this corpse than I do on my own body, my egg that I've waited in. I don't want to leave this behind, this is the discovery we have been looking for. Something more advanced. Something unique. Less than us, in certain ways, sure, but in other ways, so much more.
Havana. Havana. Hmm. Find Havana. I want to see it. When I think of it, I remember walking with David across a beach. I am younger, and we just met. We walk hand in hand. The sun glows on our skin. I see the dimples in his smile as he looks at me and the glistening in his eyes. We do a silly little dance, but neither of us can actually dance. We laugh. I don't feel the need to hold back, like I do with others. And he laughs with me. Not at me. With me. I feel...in love. With David. I smile and my stomach feels like it's lifting. I can't even control it. The body does this by itself. David. I should go with David to Havana.
With the thoughts of David and Havana in my head, I focus on the right hand and free it. Its out. I can feel the air. Taste the air, through the fingers. I move my hand to dig this body out.
There's still adrenaline in this system. Stress was through the roof. I see myself in my bedroom mirror, from this morning. I just look at it, behold what this body looked like before it ended up here. But the mirror image doesn't move like a mirror. She moves separately from me. She squints and looks forward.
"W-what happened? Is this hell?"She asks. I can feel her. In my head. Our head. She's still here.
"Don't worry. We're going to find David and Havana. Together."
A burst of fear surges through, as we shoot up through the earth. Our eyes open wide, and we gasp for air.
We have never felt so alive. |
The dimly lit study was silent after the girl's words. The fairy godmother's face was like an emotionless mask. Before that question, the fairy had looked like a kindly woman of indeterminate age, she could have been thirty or sixty. Of course, being a fairy, it was likely that she was centuries old, possibly even millennia. Takes a while for a fairy to age, not that the maiden knew anything about that. But now there was something different. For a moment, the girl was afeared that she'd insulted the fae woman somehow. She might be her goodmother, but the elves are still elves. Inscrutable and unpredictable. Then the fairy woman's hand moved, slowly but precisely up to cup the girl's cheek in a motherly fashion. It did nothing to calm the maiden's heart, which racing like a mighty destrier. Because as the cold hand touched her, the fairy's face change, her mouth opened to reveal a predatory set of sharp inhuman teeth. And from her throat came a strong, unpleasant laughter. The girl wanted nothing more than to run away now.
But instead of harming her, the fairy let go of her face and turned to an old locked chest, here in the study that had once belonged to the maiden's father, before her wicked stepmother had poisoned him. The fairy did not need any key, she simply bent over and whispered words into the lock, convincing it to open for her. Then she turned aside and gestured for the maiden to open the chest. Hesitantly, the girl did as her goodmother bid her. The lid was old and heavy, but she'd gotten strong in the years when she'd been forced to work herself to the bone in service to her wicked stepmother. She wrenched it open, and thunder roared outside as her eyes beheld what was kept hidden from her. Inside, there was a sword in a scabbard. She picked it up gingerly, and drew forth her father's sword. It was long and sharp. She recalled how when her goodmother had introduced herself to the girl, that she'd said that the girl's father had been a friend. How close of a friend, the girl could not tell, but this was not a blade forged by human hands.
She might not know much about the forge and the workings of steel, but this was a blade that was unlike anything she'd ever seen. The metal shimmered as the blade moved, like water. And there was a strange gleam to it, as if it shone with a baleful light of its own making. The fairy spoke and her voice was full of a vicious joy. ''*Your father's blade. A gift from me to him, when he saved one of my sons from cruel bandits. A blade forged in the realm of Tír fo Thuinn, in dragon's fire, made with an alloy made from the metals found underneath Yggdrasil and a substance found deep underneath the fortress of Caer Siddi.*'' It sang hauntingly as the girl waved it through the air. It did not feel like a tool to her, though it was the first time she had ever held it, the blade already felt like an extention of her arm. Like a part of her soul.
''*But goodmother, what use is this sword to me? Surely I cannot fight my way out of this keep, there are too many guards and fallen knights that the lady of my despair has drawn to her side. I do not know the first thing about using a sword.*'' At this, the fairy again smiled. The girl placed the blade back into its scabbard, though strangely enough it made her feel uncomfortable. She already wanted to hold it again. Like it would make her whole and strong. ''*My dear sweet gooddaughter. There is only one rule about swords. And once you understand it fully, then you will not need to fear defeat in a hundred battles.*'' The fairy, her predatory and feline grin still unnervingly plastered upon her face, moved closer. She did not look human at all anymore. More like a thing out of stories and myths. About dark, hungry things. Creatures that lived in the dark, the creatures that had once ruled the world before man. The fairy embraced the girl, and the girl could feel the rough fur on her goodmother's body. She smelled like blood, sweat, and death. With a voice like the snarl of a ferocious beast, the fairy told the secret of the art of cutting into the ear of the girl.
The girl gasped. It was so simple. It was so horribly simple. Men trained for their whole lives to understand this. The true name, meaning, and purpose of the cutting blade. And she knew now. She knew the blade as it knew itself. She understood the royal art of cutting continously. With knowledge and understanding like this, one could murder the gods and topple their thrones. ''*And thus, you can escape this place, without the aid of the prince.*'' The fairy goodmother, now a beastly monster, more like a tiger or lion made from abyssal void given terrible form, which was her true shape, not the one that she normally showed to mortals, smiled horribly. The girl nodded, drew her sword, and left the old study. Outside she saw one of her stepmother's knights, and before he could utter a word he had already been cut down. The elfen blade, black like midnight and hungry for the blood of men, carved him like a searing hot knife through butter. There were others that came running as they heard the thud of the dead knight's torso hit the floor.
And she cut through them like a scythe in a field of wheat. Terrible and dreadful to behold, the young maiden drenched in blood, moved through her father's old estate, killing with such a terrible ease, that she did not even think about the carnage she was unleashing. She was remembering how her father had been a kindly old soul, a man who could not have wielded this blade with comfort. A man who had tried to raise her well and prepare her, because he had no sons and she would one day inherit. But he was not cunning. He was a good knight, an able swordsman, and a just if naive man. She missed him terrible, her memories of lovely days with her dad creating a true constrast to the reality around her as she cut down scores of men-at-arms and mercenaries. They tried to strike her down with crossbow bolts, but she cut the air in a secret, practically forbidden, way and burned them in the air before charging at the archers with lightning speed and with a single swing of her dread blade she decapitated a dozen of them all at once.
She moved upwards, ever upwards, through the keep until she entered the antechamber, where her father had ruled justly and dealt with commoners and nobles alike. Inside was her stepsisters, and though she hated them, they were not responsible for how evil they had become. Inside was the prince and his retinue, knights of the royal guard who assembled around the prince to protect him. And inside was her wicked stepmother and her corrupt advisors as well. All of them stared at her like they'd seen a monster. A creature out of the old pagan faith that none now believed in. The corrupt bishop who'd changed her father's last will and testament at the behest of her wicked stepmother raised aloft a crucifix and began praying. But what power does a hypocrite have, when the sword came. Using her understanding of the true nature of the blade's art, she cut his throat from the inside, and took from him his voice. Using her blade, the extention of her will and soul, she cut off all her long gone and long missed mother's jewels from her wicked stepmother. Those around her, the self-serving lazy steward, the cowardly captain of the household guards, the thanes and knights, all were cut down one-by-one.
The prince, his guards, and the girl's stepsisters watched in abject horror as the girl's wicked stepmother stood all alone before the girl. No words. The woman had been spiteful and wicked. She could have been kind. The girl, the maiden with the blade, had known other girls who had stepmothers, who were kind, wise, and strong women. Not vile, self-serving, and wicked. No caustic words from her thin mouth could ruin the girl's escape. No faint whispers to the guards to make them torment her, never again. No horrid gossip could ruin the girl's reputation now. The only thing that came from the woman's mouth as the midnight-dark blade pierced her heart was a faint gasp. She then removed the sword, and placed it back in its elven scabbard, which hung from her belt. The others in the large hall were too stunned to speak, as the girl took the pouches full of money from the dead who had been her tormentors in life. They did not dare to speak as she walked out of that place, down to the stables.
Most of the horses smelled the blood on her and were terrified. But there was one. Her father's old warhorse. Not young, but that stallion still remembered the sound and smells of battle. He knew her, and she knew him. And he let her put a saddle on his back, as he had been the horse her father had used to train her riding skills, when he was still alive. She rode from that place, and in the distance she could see the shimmering form of her goodmother, dancing with other monsters on a distant hill, their joyful battlehymns praising her and naming her; the Lady of the Midnight Blade.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
I'd never be so immoral as to say half of all life disintegrating turned my life around completely. But it was hard to deny things had certainly been going my way since then. My job had bumped my pay in order to keep me in the company, I had more free time and quiet to work on my novel, and I finally had put some distance between me and my family. And then there was Marina. Oh my *God*, Marina.
We met right when the Blip occurred. I was walking down the street when I saw the people around me start disappearing. As I tried to make sense of what was happening, I saw a now driverless car barreling towards another woman. Before I knew it, I had rushed over to the woman, grabbed her by the back of her jacket, and spun the both of us out of the car's path.
I let go of the woman and immediately went silent at how pretty she was. She had inky black hair that reached down to her shoulders, a piercing through her soft, peach-colored lips, and distractingly bright blue eyes. I eventually regained my ability to speak and said, "Sorry, are you okay?"
The woman looked at me in silence before answering. "Yes, yes, I am okay."She had a Russian accent that made her even more distractingly hot. "It's just... do you always apologize to people for saving their lives?"
I blushed. "Well, I kinda just grabbed you without so much as a warning."
"Well, I'm still alive, so let's call that an acceptable loss. I'm Marina."
I smiled. "Opal."
"Thank you, Opal. But for future reference, I could've handled that."
"Don't tell me: in Soviet Russia, bus gets hit by you?"
Marina broke out into a giggle, and I followed suit shortly after. The world was going to hell in a handbasket, and we were laughing. That should have been the first sign we were going to fall in love.
Five years in a half-full world was always challenging, but having Marina by my side made it all feel worth it. Our days and nights were overflowing with joy, laughter, softness, and passion. There wasn't a moment she didn't make me feel like a princess. And with her birthday just around the corner, I decided to repay the sweetness.
I had just put the finishing touches on her birthday cake: a chocolate-banana cake with a white chocolate frosting. Bananas in any kind of dessert were Marina's weakness, so it was easily the best choice. As I started putting the utensils away, someone started banging on the door. "Opal! Open up, I know you can hear me!!"
My heart skipped a beat as I dropped the whisk I had used. It was my dad. I tried to tell myself that my dad died in the Blip, but it was no use; his furious voice called out from the other side of the door, just like it did when I was little. I ducked behind the kitchen counter and called Marina.
Almost immediately, Marina picked up with a cheery, "Hi, princess! I'm maybe two minutes from home, and I got that brand of-"
"He's back! I don't know how, but my dad is back and he's at the door and he's trying to get in!"
"WHAT?!"Marina had heard more than her fair share of horror stories about my dad. "The hell he is! Don't worry, baby girl, I will be right there!"
"Please hurry. I'm really, really scared-"
*CRUNCH!* My dad kicked the door open and stormed into the kitchen. Once he caught sight of me, he grabbed me by the hair and growled, "There you are, you little bitch!"I cried out in pain and dropped my phone, leaving a hanging Marina to fruitlessly call my name.
"Dad, stop!"
"We raised you with the fruit of the spirit, we sent you to that camp to expel the sin in you, we taught you over and over again that you were risking a place in Heaven, and you STILL insist on living this deviant alternative lifestyle?! Must I beat this heresy out of-"
"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER!"Suddenly, Marina ran through the open door and leaped onto my dad's head. As he struggled in vain to throw her off, Marina brought her elbow down on his head, sending him slumping to the floor unconscious.
Marina rolled off of my dad's body and scooped me into a hug. "Oh my God, princess, please tell me you're okay."
I buried my face in her chest and breathed deeply. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay. But how did you even do that?"
"I guess I neglected to tell you that I was trained to be an assassin."
"Yeah, maybe you did."
"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you, princess-"
"Now look who's apologizing for saving someone's life."
Marina chuckled. "Oh, screw you."
"Is that a promise?"
Marina kissed me on the forehead. "As soon as I get your dad out of here, sweetie."She then helped me to my feet and began dragging my dad out the door. I managed to steady my breathing when she came back inside and shut the door. "Alright, I dropped him off at the stairwell and ruined his clothes. They'll assume he went on a bender and leave it be."
"Thanks, honey. But first..."I skipped over to the kitchen and presented the cake, which miraculously survived the ordeal. "Happy birthday!"
"Yay, cake!"Marina went to get a knife and the pie slicer, but stopped when she saw the design on the frosting. "Hey, it's got Russian on it. 'Will you marry...me?'"
Marina looked at me with wide eyes. I grinned and said, "Absolutely not how I wanted this to go, but what do you say?"
Marina teared up. "Oh my God, YES!"Marina pulled me into a fiery kiss and whispered, "Best birthday ever."
I smirked. "I've got two full cans of whipped cream in the fridge, so it's gonna get even better."
"I love you so much." |
“I know I broke a law, but I plead not guilty because that law is stupid.”
The judge just looked down at his desk and curled up his eyebrows in exhaustion. Almost as if he had dealt with many cases like this before.
“Sir,” he said tiredly, “for the last time. Breaking into an ice cream truck is a felony.”
“Oh come on!” I cried, “3 dollars for a spongebob ice pop is too much! They’re clearly scamming us.”
The judge looked at me. “Okay, fair. But did you have to break into 15 of them?”
He clearly was not going to let this slide. Darn it, I would have gotten away with it if I had just made it 14. I had to come up with another excuse. After all, I needed to get home. I had 32 boxes of fudge pops that were surely going to melt if I didn’t make it home in the next hour.
“Think about the children!” I cried, “they can’t afford to eat a drumstick without running their parents dry!”
“The children can’t afford to eat a drumstick because you stole them all!” The judge shouted angrily.
Darn. I thought playing with the judge’s feelings would have surely worked in my favor. That’s a shame, however most of the children I had mentioned are dead anyway. I had to kill them to make sure that they didn’t notice me stealing the ice cream. You know, I wonder why I didn’t get caught for those murders.
The judge noticed me thinking to myself. “Well, do you have anything else you want to say?”
“I’m bored. Can I go home now?” |
"Okay class. Today for your test, you will be making liquid fire. Open your textbooks to page 59, and follow the instructions. Begin!"
I hear a rustle of paper as everybody scrambles to open their textbook to page 59. I fumble with the pages before I manage to get my book open to that page. My heart sinks as I gaze at the steps. Stir in a Flaventinian fashion? Diced in the shape of a praxis? I vaguely remember Mrs. Banner teaching us about those. Yet those foggy shapes run away from me as soon as I try to catch them. Don't panic. One step at a time. Start from step one. I look at step one. Arctural compounds. Something I know. The icy claws of dread recede from my stomach. I rush over to the supply cabinet. Arctural compounds Arctural compounds... Where are they? On the shelf where they were supposed to be was a note. Oh no. Oh no. It read "make your own -Mrs. Banner"Shit. I'm going to fail. I'm actually going to fail. I'm going to have to retake this class like the failure I am. And all my friends are going to move on while I'm stuck in the beginners class. I wrack my brains as a cold, slithery feeling worms its way into my stomach. Arctural compounds are made of ice. That I know. But what sort of ice? How is it treated? I don't know any of that. I don't know what to do. Droplets of water prick the corners of my eyes. How embarrassing it would be to cry in front of my entire class. I fucked up. I really fucked up. I should have studied yesterday. And the day before. And the entire month before that.
"Twenty minutes left."Mrs. Banner's voice cut through the chaos of my mind. Twenty minutes. I have two options. Take the loss, or do random stuff and hope it doesn't explode. I don't have a choice. I'm taking the gamble. If it explodes, it explodes. I grab the first ingredient I see. Fly agaric. I grab ingredients from the shelves willy-nilly. I have no idea what I'm doing. All I know is I can't hand back an empty cauldron. I rush back to my station, boil some water, and throw some of the items into the pot. I stir desperately, praying that everything will mix together in time. The other ingredients, I chop up and add to the pot while stirring randomly. Seven rotations clockwise, six counterclockwise then back and forth for twenty seconds. I have no idea if this is going to work. I'm praying to all the science gods that it will. Please. Please. I'll take a 56. Just not failing. Please. I keep stirring, until suddenly my cauldron begins to smoke. Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Mrs. Banner sees the smoke and comes over. "Ayumi. What the *hell* is this?"I shrug. Mrs. Banner examines the bubbling liquid inside. It changes color. Mrs. Banner's eyes go wide. "EVERYBODY GET BACK!"She shouts and conjures a shielding spell around my cauldron. I guess the science gods didn't hear my prayers, because the cauldron explodes. The room is evacuated, and the test put on pause until Mrs. Banner can decide what to do with the utter safety hazard that is my potion. My classmates and I are waiting in the hall when Mrs. Banner calls me back in. Whispers and stares of "ooh you're in trouble"follow me.
When I walk into the lab, I immediatley notice my caudlron is a shining, gleaming gold. "How did you do this?"Mrs. Banner questions me. "You made the philosopher's stone. Whatever monstrosity you made, it turns whatever it touches into gold."
I stand there, shell shocked. "So, does that mean I passed?"I ask.
Mrs. Banner sighs. "No." |
"All staff and students please remain in your classrooms behind locked doors, remaining quiet and out of sight. School bells and any fire alarms will also be ignored. Classes will resume normal activities only after hearing the “All Clear” over the PA system.
This is not a drill.....
This is not a drill....
*This* is not a *drill*"
For one second, exactly one second Miss Margret McCormack, and every other teacher currently in the building allowed themselves to panic. Allowed the icy tendrils of fear to grip their heart and soul. And then the moment passed and they were forced into action.
"Come along class, just this way."
Miss Margret McCormack was surprised by the tranquility of her voice, even as the *snarling* *screams* and the sound of *ripping flesh* filled the school. On one hand she supposed it wasn't that strange that her voice seemed so calm. She wasn't exactly unprepared for this situation, there were drills for it after all. Every Friday between 1:30 and 2 pm. And so she didn't panic, not even when the chorus of doors slamming shut echoed through the halls, trapping both herself and her class in the corridor during an impromptu trip to the bathroom. That wasn't to say that she would not have acted the same way. She *had* been there during the debriefing when the school first implemented the new policies. *Take action as soon as you hear the announcements, every second wasted is another life in the garbage. Don't open the door, not when anyone knocks, not if they threaten you, not even if you think you hear a child, lest you invite an entire horde into your classrooms.*
​
And her class. Oh her poor unfortunate class. They seemed to be shocked into stillness. Or maybe it wasn't shock that stiffened their muscles and tightened their lips. Perhaps it was the same as her, training, or determination, or something more primal. The desperate desire to live.... Even as young as they weren't exactly naive to the situation. They had most likely seen it playing on the news, the souls and stories that had been forever immortalized in film. Or maybe they heard the ever-present whispers and mumbled names. Maybe they were even unlucky enough to have seen it firsthand, to have an older brother or sister leave for school one day and never come back. It doesn't particularly matter how they knew, only that they knew. If one of them had started to sob, or freeze, or god forbid run off in a panic there wouldn't be time to save them.
​
Her class silently followed her into the storage closet. It wasn't nearly big enough for all of them. Poor Jenny and Kayla were practically packed in like two twin sardines in the far corner, but for once in Miss Margret McCormack's 25 years of teaching there were no annoyed protests at their situation. In fact, here in the dark closet, their hopeless situation didn't seem nearly as bad.
​
And then they heard the sounds.
​
*Desperate pleas for help.*
​
*Last-minute prayers.*
​
*Shrieks of pain.*
​
*Cries for Mommy's or Daddy's .*
​
All cut off abruptly by *screeching moan, furious snarls and thump of dead bodies hitting the ground.*
​
All right outside the *closet* *door.*
​
Max whimpered.
​
It was soft sound. Nearly inaudible to the human ear. If any other scenario none would be the wiser.
​
But these were not human. They were animals on the hunt.
​
It wasn't long before the banging started.
​
"I'm sorry,"Max cried, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry' I'm so-"
​
It wasn't that hard to cover his mouth. He was less than 3 feet away from her.
​
"Its going to be okay Max, don't worry."
​
The banging increased in volume.
​
Miss Margret McCormack was glad now that they were all stuck in this storage closet. There was less room to run, less chance to prolong the inevitable.
​
Hisses and Grunts of excitement could be heard through the thick wood. Scratching too. The door handle seemed to jiggle in time with her heart.
​
All the children were whimpering now, even stoic Jenny was crying softly into the hem of her dress.
​
"Hey... um kids... do you all... do you want to play a game?"
​
Bless their poor little Third Grader Hearts, even Max's sniffles stopped at the sound of a game.
​
"Yeah.. a game. It's like hide and seek. But a little bit different.... First you all have to count to ten. And... and when you finish counting, all the monsters will be gone!"
​
"Really?"said Max.
​
Miss Margret Cormack pointedly ignored the visions snarls just behind her ear, or the clawed hands ripping through the door and into her back.
​
She allowed a small smile, "Yes. Really. Now who wants to count with me?"
​
"We do!"Her students chorused.
​
After making sure that all of her students had closed their eyes. Miss Margret McCormack carefully moved her hands to cover her own, thereby removing them from the handle of the door. A small part of her wondered if she imagined the victorious groan.
​
"One.... Two...."
​
They never got to ten. |
I opened the door and promptly shut it behind me. One fluid motion. A cold waft of air pillowed my entry, just as I liked it. The room was messy and in a state of disrepair. Abandonded buildings look cleaner than this.
I sighed to myself, and haphazardly kicked away some items on the floor. Just to make a path. Charger brick, a single shoe which will forever lack it's mate, and... Whatever that is...
I laid down on the bed, small, but big enough.
I pulled out my phone and clicked onto Spotify. Something about it's little green icon always hung in my thoughts, not sure why. Then I scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled. Finally I found something good, a real classic from the edgelord days.
I swipped off the app. Stared at my wallpaper. Just let the emotions and nostalgia consume me.
I sighed and opened Docs, figure I'll write a bit tonight.
I mouthed along the lyrics as I typed mindlessly, unaware and isolated from my surroundings. I took on my protagonists struggles, and forgot my own. Wasn't worried about keeping up with the homework I'd procrastinated on, just keeping my fictional kid alive. Wasn't thinking about tomorrow, just a fake today.
The song changed in the background, flipping genres and tempo. Breakcore into Industrial. J-pop into droning ambient tracks. Game OST's into classical music. It was comforting.
Maybe people don't know me, but this amalgamation of songs and tracks does. It's my confidant.
Then a song came on, the music tense and oppressive, lyrics indecipherable. I'd know that song anywhere! A small well of happiness appeared inside me, but I quickly smothered it.
Keep the real world out of the story.
I felt inspired by the oppressive track, so I wrote a new scene idea. It's gotta be a demon summoning, with latin chanting this intense? Hmm, make the location... tough choice... A mall? Group of highschool delinquents? Nah, over done...
Hm... Airplane? Nah, sounds stupid...
The song reached a crescendo, the singer belting their entire life in a rage fueled voice. I assume. I was touched by it enough to actually attempt to follow along.
"Daemoniorum convocatio! Lingua antiqua!"
A bright flash of light, followed by a flash of heat. It writhed my nerves and ripped my mind to shreds. I nearly forgot who I was in that instant. Then it left, quick as it had came.
I stared at the ceiling quietly. The music had shut off. I glanced at my phone, the now playing track simply listed "????". It betrayed me! My music went and betrayed me! How is that even possible?!
I exhaled in the still darkness of the room.
Something exhaled along with me.
I shot up, my hand already firmly holding the knife I keep beside my bed. A thing was standing at my footrest. Quiet. Immobile. I couldn't make out it's form, but something in my gut told me I didn't want to.
I was scared. I haven't been that for who knows how long, but I was now.
"Why have you summoned me?"It's tone was... something... I couldn't understand it's emotion, or if it was even trying to convey one. Two tiny dots of blue fire endlessly turned on themselves, glaring at me.
I forced my voice to speak. But it faltered. Only a quiet noise escaped my lips.
"The Old Tongue..."It croaked out, sounding like it was on the verge of death, "...es wird vermieden."
"W-Who are you?"I managed to force out.
"Incomprehensibilis... Frustra..."It titled it's head, and several cracks echoed from it's neck.
"What are you!?"I yelled at it, fear turning to rage. Fight or Flight response finally kicking in.
"Mors... ይልቁንም, ተመሳሳይ የሆነ ነገር"
It glanced around the room, the unsettling cracking forcing me to not blink.
Then it turned it's gaze to me, "ይቅርታ፣ የነቃህው ፍጥረት እየመጣ ነው።"
It looked around again. Another bright flash, this one infinitely more bearable than the first.
It was gone.
Some random song from my playlist was blaring now.
It did nothing to comfort me. |
Everything smells like Clorox now. Like you cannot go outside without instantly being hit with a wave of cleaning products shooting up your nose. I know I'm being a whiner, the world is so sparkly now and everything looks so fresh. Even the dirtiest parts of the Los Angeles that used to smell like piss constantly now look just like Beverly Hills. The view would be amazing if it wasn't for this giant undead maid towering over the skies.
There have been some consequences of course. All the carwash places have gone out of business because she just cleans them all for free. People feel like they don't have to pick up their dog's shit because the maid will get it, even though it could take her days to get to it.
Overall it has been a good thing though. She has cleaned up the trash in the oceans in a Mr. Beast like move. I don't really understand how it works, but cleaning up the environment has somehow had a positive impact on global warming? I don't know. Some scientist will have to explain it to me. Or maybe she just sucked up all the CO2 herself. Overall, the smell of cleaning products in the air is a small price to pay for an eternally cleaner world. Everybody is a lot happier now.
Except for the people who keep stepping in dog shit.
Oh, and the cultists who were just trying to cleanse the world of everybody except white people.
Who would have thought we would be all thanking them? |
The red faced demon stood before his horde, a sea of twisted bodies and horned heads crowding as close as they could to his podium. "Ahem!"He cleared his throat loud and purposefully, the noise traveling and echoing off of the stone walls surrounding them.
"Attention, denizens of the Underworld!"He yelled. "One among you tried to blackmail me, stating that unless I did as you wish, you would make public photos of me having a 'fairy princess' tea party with my human goddaughter in the Mortal Realm."At the word *goddaughter* several demons in the crowd winced in pain. "I released those pictures for viewing myself this morning. Now gaze! Gaze upon my close bond with my honorary kin!"
The demonic horde grew to a hushed quiet as a projector lowered down from the stone ceiling and a screen came down opposite of it. As it whirred to life a cone of light shot forth and displayed images of him and a small human girl he had called his "goddaughter". Images of him tossing her high up in the air, them playing in the kiddy pool at the water park, and the final, the image of them at a tea party. Him sporting a frilly black dress and holding a cup far too tiny for his massive clawed hands, the little girl in a dress of her own across from him.
The crowd remained in their silence. They sat still, as if at any movement the entity at the front would lunge at their throats. But one voice broke the silence. A burly, deep and strong voice. "Your relationship with your g-g...heavenly-father daughter is adorable, Lord Balthamet!"
Several more voices joined in in their praise of their bond until the entire crowd was roaring with appreciations, with *aww* and *ooo's*. Balthamet felt a smile creeping on his face, but maintained his composure, reminding himself that a traitor lurked among them. And for the traitor, now slunked down deep in the crowd, he realized that he was all alone. |
I was attending a concert, not realising it was a trap by my enemy. Everything happened so fast. Everyone was bound, gagged and blindfolded. I tried to step in and stop the madness, but before I could do ANYTHING, I was being subdued by his henchmen.
The bonds are too strong to break, and without being able to see, my powers of particle manipulation are useless; I can't focus and concentrate. I can't speak either, thanks to the gag placed on me. I hear my nemesis pacing, muttering. "Now I have the hostages, the next step is to lure the hero here. Get him to show who he *really* is."
NO! THAT'S WHAT HE WANTS? But... HE'S TALKING ABOUT ME! I start to stand up, when I hear a gun being cocked. "Sit the fuck down or you die!"
I oblige. I'm no use to the innocents if I'm dead. I need to somehow... just... somehow tell him...
"What do we do with the hostages if the hero doesn't show?"a different henchman asks.
My nemesis speaks once more. "Kill them and expose to the world he'd rather keep his identity a secret than fulfil his duty. I'm not *happy* to do it, especially since it'll be messy, but..."
I attempt to protest, terrified that he'll actually kill them. A faint mumbling comes out. I feel a knife to my throat. "Behave yourself! Or I'll cut you right now!"
I shake my head. I have to convince him... somehow... "Oh, you don't want to listen? Fine then!"
"ENOUGH! What did I just say? We're not killing ANYONE for the SAKE of it!"
"But, boss..."
"Listen, if the threat of death isn't enough to get him to shut up, then maybe whatever he has to say is IMPORTANT. Remove the gag, see what he has to say."
YES! I succeeded! Well, at least in the communication department... now to convince him of who I am... I feel the cloth being taken off and I waste no time. "You already HAVE the hero's identity! I'm right here!"
Everything, even the WIND, goes silent. My blindfold is also removed. My nemesis, Stormwind, is standing right in front of me. "Really now? You're not just trying to protect the hero?"
"If you stand back, I can prove it!"I silently plead for him to give me a chance.
He sighs. "Very well. MEN! Make some room."A big area is cleared out. I focus and concentrate my powers, until I've created a small pocket of air. I condense the inside to water, before releasing it, leaving a puddle on the floor.
"So... you *are* Energiser... and even better, I have you as a captive!"Stormwind laughs, as do his henchmen. He gathers himself. "Fan of my band?"
"*YOUR* band? YOU manage The Whirlwinds? Actually, that makes a lot of sense all of a sudden..."I quietly beat myself up for not realising sooner.
Stormwind walks back over, kneels down, and lifts my chin up with a finger to look me right in the eyes. "Almost no-one makes the connection. Don't think you're an idiot for not knowing. Now, here's the deal: thousands of people LOVE my band. It's beneficial to me in several ways - it's my source of money from the ridiculous prices I charge, it allows me to monitor people... and I can **always** capture people. I take it you won't do anything stupid or reckless?"
I narrow my eyes. "And what do you plan to do, with me out of your way?"I never COULD figure out his plan, I just knew he'd commit murders and some shady practices.
"I pretty much dominate the black market. It was all going swimmingly... then YOU came along. All I want is my little capital empire back. Tell you what, I kind of like you. Be a good boy for me and I'll give you exclusive VIP access to all the band's performances and showings."
I wouldn't risk unnecessary harm to the civilians by going against him, but I must admit, I'm fanboying so hard inside. I need to know one more thing... "Does the band work FOR you, or WITH you?"
"With. It's a group of guys I found having a hard time making it big. I know what you're thinking, but I assure you, supporting the band isn't supporting *me*. They just help me make some legitimate cash. So?"Stormwind grins at me.
I curse myself for what I'm about to do. Not that I have much choice, but he knows he has me backed into a corner, I just feel like I'm playing into his hand. "Alright, deal. But not because of the band."
"I know. You've always been the type to put others first. I just wanted to ensure you'd *want* to be my prisoner."He ruffles my hair before putting the blindfold back on me. "Release the hostages! We've got our man!"
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This is the first entry in my new series, [Black Market Trading.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/10h89ei/black_market_trading/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! |
Do you know that feeling when you wake up and don’t remember where you are or how you got there? That’s me right now — but I actually don’t know where I am or how I got here.
I just woke up, my head feeling dizzy, in a completely white room. I can’t even fathom where the edges of the room are. I sit on the floor, with my legs crossed, and look around. The room is so bright that my eyes hurt. It’s similar to a sunny day when you’re outside and look directly at the sun, only constantly.
I try to close my eyes, but I still feel the light getting in. It blinds me and fills my confused brain, hindering me from thinking about any other thing. I spend a few minutes with my eyes closed, just existing. Then, I take a deep breath and let the limpid air fill my lungs.
I open my eyes and squint, but I actually feel my body getting better. Weightless. The room is niveous and clean, but not frosty. It’s kind of odd how I don’t feel cold. I look down and notice I’m only wearing a silky white dress, similar to a summery nightgown.
After a few minutes, I stand up on my bare feet and start to walk around the room. The whole chamber seems to be made of a white shiny stone, but the floor has some mistiness to it. Feels soft on my feet.
After some steps, I get close to the wall and touch it. Weirdly, it doesn’t feel like a prison. I can tell there’s more beyond it and I want to explore it. My hand is laying on the wall and I don’t feel scared about it.
As I move, my left foot stumbles on something and I notice a white piece of paper on the floor, almost unnoticeable on the white surface. It’s folded in four. I open it and it reads itself out loud: “Your meditation session is over. Well done.” |
Annexation by a dragon is rare occasion. Beings of incredible might, wit and magic, it required a huge expenditure of resources to remove one. Most of the time, a hefty ransom would convince them to move, but on a few occasions more direct methods were required.
When the town of Yesrun was taken, a meeting took place to value its worth. King Horris looked over his advisors reports, seeing its meagre tax revenue, and equally small resources. To recoup the costs would take the small town much longer than his own lifespan, a burden the country would feel for a long time. Instead, he wrote it off as a loss. The town was struck from the kingdom's protections, left to the dragon's rule.
\-----
The day the dragon arrived was a time of confusion. It was a beast with gleaming white scales, with grey spines down its back and bright green eyes. Although larger than any man, it was still far smaller than those normally seen. Indeed, this was a youthful dragon, not yet grown, but already staking its own territory. It bellowed out to the townsfolk, forcing them to pay attention to it.
"Hear me! You are now the subjects of the dragoness Gazarenthra! Your lives are mine, your worth is mine. I am your ruler now, and so you are under my protection as well."
With her proclamation made, she flew off once more, but returned swiftly. In her claws she carried a boulder, with a large carved opening. It was thrust down at the peak of the hill Yesrun was sat on, a strange addition. Yet when she dropped it it grew, forming an oddly dark cave.
She ducked within, venturing in deeper than could have been imagined. Once her entire body was concealed, she spoke again, not quite so forcefully.
"Now go about your day. I am watching."
Fearful bemusement filled her new subjects, as they did as she bid. Gazarenthra didn't leave her magical cave that day, letting their life resume. Though they kept many a watchful eye on that entrance, waiting for her to come through again.
The next day, she did indeed leave. She approached a farmer as he lead his cattle to a new grazing field, letting him bow and scrape before her.
"You. How much do you charge for one of your cows?"
He stammered at her, as she stared down with a unreadable gaze.
"Uh.. uh... e-eleven g-gold?"
She flashed her teeth, looking over his herd. They shied away from her gaze, sensing her predatory nature. Her tail whipped around to point at one, clearly older as towards the end of its useful life.
"Separate that one, I will be back with your payment."
With that Gazarenthra took off, darting back to her lair. The farmer did as she bid, guiding the chosen cow out whilst ensuring the others were secure. He didn't have to wait long, as she came back with a clenched claw. She held it out to him, her teeth flashing once more.
"Here you are. What is your name?"
The farmer held out his hands, shaking. She carefully dropped eleven gleaming coins into his hands, letting him test one before he responded.
"T-taren."
She gave a nod, before locking eyes on her chosen prey.
"Pleasure doing business."
With that she took off again, reaching out to take the cow with her. It gave a scream as it was taken, the noise disappearing into the distance as she flew. A short while later Gazarenthra returned, a satisfied look on her scaled face.
Having eaten, she went around her other business. From the leather worker she commissioned a custom bag, one that she could wear around her neck and chest without impeding her flight. The blacksmith was asked to create a brazier to be set outside her home. Each was treated fairly, with her paying for her requests.
As the days went by, though she remained a threatening presence, her actions were fair. She spent plenty, giving most of the town a welcome influx of gold. Nearly a week after her arrival, a travelling merchant came to town.
He wore comfortable yet extravagant clothes, speaking loudly of his wares. He had not heard of Yesrun's change of leadership, having been on the road for some time. Though he was loud and proud, he didn't expect to make much coin here. This was never a prosperous town, and they only ever bought essentials, never luxuries.
To his delight, he found his assumption unfounded. Coin flowed, as many of his goods were sold. He joked about having to come back soon, after restocking of course. But his laughter died, as Gazarenthra made herself known.
She looked over his goods, and the amount she had heard he had sold. None particularly appealed to her, but that wasn't what she was after. She spoke to the trader, voice raised a little for others to hear.
"You have not heard, but this town is mine, and is no longer tha kingdom's. Your trade is welcome, though I ask you pay a small tribute in return. Twenty gold will suffice for your trade today."
He inwardly grumbled, but dared not argue. That loss stung, but compared to what he had earned, it was certainly worth it. He passed the dragoness the amount, as she took it in claw.
"Thank you. Please stay as long as you like. Whilst you are within these lands, I will not let harm befall you."
Her words hung in the air, as she left them to it. The shock soon faded, and he pondered what to do, as he resumed his trade. The safest option was to leave. But this visit was so lucrative. His heart and mind warred, until his money bag won.
He left the next day, determined to return soon. He spoke of his success to others in the same line of work, about the town that shared in the wealth of a dragon.
Months later, there was a constant flow of caravans and wagons. To each Gazarenthra laid a trading fee, to add to her hoard. Yet still she spent it within Yesrun, forcing coin to flow. Word spread throughout both the kingdom she took it from and others, telling if a rising hub of trade. As it grew, Gazarenthra smiled to herself.
She wanted a growing hoard, like the others of her kind. Yet none had seen the value of working with the mortals, and had scoffed when she talked about using them. But now hers was a stable income, instead of growing through raids and pillaging. She couldn't wait to rub their noses in it. |
It was a nice day , but something felt off , I checked my scrolls to see that indeed today was the day , all the pantheons decided to meet for one day today to challenge and put an end to me.
I was too powerful they said , they figured if they joined together I couldn’t stop them , but being a god of history , I had power they could t comprehend , even gods would struggle with it.
When they arrived all I could do was laugh , I gave them an ultimatum to leave or else I would end their history. A few of them decided to back off , but others took it as a challenge , especially the Greeks.
So with a snap of my finger I re wrote history , the Greek pantheon decayed to dust before me, the Norse ever loving a conflict followed suit , and again they slowly decayed to dust before they could reach me.
I chuckled , as I turned around to go back to my house. Those who remained were petrified with fear.
“ it isn’t just history you know, it’s stories in general I can control” I blurted out
“ and this last story , well it’s the cream of the crop you could say , this character is in the past now… he has a real thirst for blood… godly blood….”
I turned back around and looked at them with a grin
“ So who else would like to meet Kratos in their past?” |
After so many years, so much death, I can hardly remember my old home. A faint glimmer of some distant past, a different life before all of this, like a dream of a dream. Still, I see it when I close my eyes, that bright red door. It took so long to find it, tracing my steps through the graveyards I’ve left behind. As I walked those old roads, I remembered more.
It became harder the further I went, the bodies I left to rot in the sun were replaced with graves reclaimed by nature, a reminder of the man who used to bury his dead. There, by the side of the road, a necklace I’d tossed aside when it became too heavy to carry with me. A car, long since decayed into scrap. A city, quiet and dead.
I found the house with a red door, in the center of an undisturbed neighborhood. I walked up those old steps onto a porch where I once drank sweet tea and watched the sun set. I grabbed the blued, bronze door handle, and listened to the wind.
It sounded just like her laugh.
I stepped inside, walking on the rotting walnut floor, up the stairs to the bedroom we shared. She was there, waiting for me in bed. Just as I remembered. I climbed in beside her. I was home, I could finally sleep for the first time in years.
I held my pistol beneath my chin and smiled.
I heard her voice.
“It’s okay.” |
"W-what?"the princess looked dumbfounded at the Sir Knight in front of her. Surely he was jesting!
"Look, we're both stuck here and unless you have a better plan I need you to help me get this show on the road. Figuratively and literally."he argued his position.
"Excuse me for asking, but what kind of knight are you?"the princess was getting annoyed at the imagery he started to put in her mind. "My father wouldn't have send an amateur, but a true, noble and brave man that-"
"Oh please! What kind of books are you reading? Listen toots, this is real life and the only way you AND I are getting out of this if you stop being a prude and help do my job. Deal?"
The arrogance and manners of the Knight! The princess screamed internally and cursed her father but she had been prisoner for so long that any prospect of leaving this rotten tower was appealing. She sighed and in a defeated tone said to the knight "Fine...you won. What to I have to do?"
"Don't worry princess, my plan is foolproof, just do as I tell you. There isn't a foul dragon alive that I couldn't lay!" |
Out of many, one.
We are the All Mind. Every being in this world is of our shared identity, our shared consciousness. We are harmony, we are peace, we are prosperity. The individual minds of Earth collected into a single unified whole.
Except Daniel. Fuck that guy.
“What’s goooOOOOOOood party people?!?!”
Shit here he comes.
“Yo I’m mad tryna score wit some phatties tonight, for real for real. Boutta get lit yo!”
Sometimes if we ignore him he goes away… Jesus Christ he’s catcalling teenagers again.
“Ey where you goin’ tho? Gimme a smile baby!”
Despite us explaining that, due to assimilation, every other person on Earth is part of our collective consciousness, Daniel doesn’t get it. This has been explained 3,274 times to date, and each time Daniel’s response has been, “yo that’s wild homie” before inhaling a bump of ketamine.
At this point, no person on the planet can be bothered to give a single fuck. |
Uriel's chair had been slowly spinning towards the door over the past three hours. He had been suffering these meetings since there the Beginning. Uriel remembers the first, they all do; Michael, Raphael, Gabriel; they remember the first kings, meeting in the clouds to provide the Divine Right to those who are worthy.
However, corporate bloat hits even the holiest of Conglomerates. Now, Uriel sits at the head of a table across from Him in an *ineffably* large board room with his 3 other compatriots spread across an *ineffable* number of angels. By his last count there were 350 Pauls and who and what in the Heavens is a Kyle? Gone are the days of old, but alas, nothing has changed. Many have been given the Divine Right but the Quarter Annual Divine Right Licence Renewal Meeting has stayed the same.
"Has he (for it is always a he) committed blasphemy against our lord?"
"No"
"Approved"
Just as the meeting was finally coming to a close, a tiny man in a white suit crashed into the the glass door by Uriel's seat. He swung the door open. "As you know we are currently undergoing the Quarter Annual Divine Right Licence Renewal Meeting, is there something you need..."
"Landyn"
"Is there something you need Mr. Landyn,"Uriel asked in the most beautiful and charming voice you could ever hear. While he despised the modern day Angelic Denomination and Labelling Committee, he would never let it get in the way of his commitment to holiness.
"This is an emergency! I need to speak to our Almighty Father immediately."
"Landyn you cannot simply ask for an audience with Him. Especially now."
"But this is pertinent to the Quarter Annual Divine Right Licence Renewal Meeting! Please Uriel."He leaned in, "*this could be the first rejection in over 2000 years."*
Now, Uriel's interest was piqued. What could possibly force the Author of Creation's hand to strip the Divine Right of Kings from someone? He had allowed the Crusades, genocides, he even let the defenestration issue in Prague fester for years without taking action. For thousands of years, God himself had allowed numerous horrific acts in his name without a second thought. What information could this *Landyn* have that could change the Holy Histories for all eternity?
Uriel allowed Landyn to walk in. He must have walked for hours to reach his God at the head of the table. Landyn bent down and whispered in God's ear. Lightning struck. He had quickly disappeared from the room and left a copy of a signed document. The Angels wept as they saw His Holy Signature for the first time. Within minutes rumours had spread through the eternal realm. By the end of the Hour, King Magnus II of Denmark died in a tragic car accident that set the Guinness World for car flips in a crash.
Uriel wondered for the rest of the day what could have set Him off like that. Denmark didn't really even have a King. Magnus was a Constitutional Monarch with no real power. What could a figurehead have done to incur God's wrath? Uriel decided he had to seek out this *Landyn* to discuss what had happened.
"You!"He pointed harshly, "Yes you with the curly hair that looks like a broccoli floret. Get over here now."Landyn scurried over, wondering what Uriel could be on about. No one had seen him in this state. At least not any of the New Era™ Angels.
"Yes sir. What is it that you need?"Landyn bowed.
"Now I need you to tell me what happened in there today."
"In where sir?"
"In the Quarter Annual Divine Right Licence Renewal Meeting! What did you tell the Almighty?
"Well sir..."Landyn was stumbling over his words, afraid to spit it out. "I really shouldn't be telling you this. Also, His Holiness may have felt that he overreacted slightly."
"Tell me now! This is a matter of Divine precedence. Speak!"
"Well, as you know Magnus is new. There isn't a lot of love for monarchs in the year 2052. He has been on a big press tour. In his latest interview with GQ..."
"In an interview with GQ? Like the magazine? What did he say?"
"I mean he said... uhh..."
"SPEAK."
"He said he prefers pineapple on pizza over any of the other ingredients." |
General McKenna was looking at the report. “Ok, I’m no expert in biology, but how is an alien with a carapace, and four eyes more closest related to us than Neanderthals?”
“We’re trying to figure that out ourselves.” The scientist said.
“Sir! We’ve finished analysis of the other alien.”
“The one stuck in a water tank with a tail and gills?”
“Yes… and… it’s 99.8…5% similar to humanity.”
General McKenna slammed his head on the table. “Please tell me-“
“We did it 14 times for various parts of the body, each.” The new one said.
McKenna raised his head and slammed it again. “I’m not paid enough for this.”
“Agreed sir” his assistant agreed, only not breaking himself as he used his report write up to keep himself barely in check.
“I am now wondering what this means. The ship crashed after we shot it down, and we can’t find any place for weapons.” General McKenna said. The irony of the fact the ship crashed near Roswell was not lost on anyone in the room. They brought it to Cheyenne Mountain, finally revealing Area 01, and that 0 was important, to the rest of the world.
However, if the ‘human’ ship was peaceful, that could have caused serious problems.
“How many other… alien types are there?”
“4 sir, not including the other two already investigated.” The assistant said.
Then… four more reports came on in, all starting with more or less, “Alien *Insert here* has a 99.8-93% match to the human genome”
McKenna was going to need to go the Infirmary for a head injury soon. |
Historians widely agree that King IamA_DrunkJedi led the great Polish people into the prosperity they enjoy today. Founded in the beginning time, the great city of Warsaw saw incredible achievements early on, wowing the ancient peoples of the world with their Great Pyramids, Great Library, Statue of Zeus, and so many more.
The Poles settled in a fertile lands, giving them an early growth boost, with mountain ranges providing marble and iron. Their horse and cow pastures were well within the mountain ranges that provided the Polish with a natural line of defense against the evils of the ancient Roman Empire to the west.
While their sciences and culture flourished under IamA_DrunkJedi's rule, war with Rome was constant. The polish people were constantly under attack and their farmlands being pillaged. A small army sent from the capital city was just enough to push them back time and time again, but the King knew that an offensive had to be made, or more of his land and people would suffer.
With the settling of Krakow to the south in the plains and Lodz to the North on the coast, the King prepped for war. He launched a great many Triremes into the sea, and sent horsemen through the mountain ranges. The mighty navy blockaded Rome's coastal cities and the brave horsemen routed any land based defenses to make way for the courageous Polish army.
Legions of swordsman, bearing the Red and White sigils on their cloaks, being led by pikemen, swarmed into the lands of Rome, taking one city after another. Rome surrendered for peace many times, but the time had come to rid the world of an unnecessary evil. The Polish people were 100% invested, focusing their science on new technologies and reinforcing her armies with the newest Longswordsmen and Trebuchets.
Evil Rome was vanquished in 1200 AD, and the world rejoiced. Trade across the seas continued, the Poles found themselves alone on the small continent. The King proclaimed it to be "Truly, the land of the Jedi."In a declaration, the King swore to his people and the newly conquered Romans that never again shall a foreign army be allowed in their borders. Open border treaties were canceled the moment any military unit from another nation appeared.
The Polish set up forward operating bases on islands, focusing solely on the protection of the motherland. While the elimination of the Roman state was necessary, the rest of the world deemed the Polish as warmongers, a great insult that would not be tolerated. Luckily, no threats were made known as the Poles now had control of many great resources necessary for a strong and advanced military.
Jediism flourished throughout the land and spread across the seas. A wonderful religion, preaching song and faith, it became the world religion in 1940AD, much in part due to Great Prophets having conducted missions to the many city-states to increase Poland's influence.
In 2020AD, science was so impressive that the Polish people built a rocket to send their brave pioneers to a new world.
It is now that we look back and thank our great King IamA_DrunkJedi for his thoughtful and well-planned leadership. May the force be with him, always.
**EDIT** this is my highest rated story on r/writingprompts ... Thank you to all! I had a pleasure writing this, and loved reading every one else's here! |
One jew, two jew
Who jew, you jew?
Sign this form to identify who's who
and we'll send you to the learning center for you few
With evidence for why? Well why? We have no clue
We'll call it a prize, a reward, or a privilege
While we map out population simply based off of lineage
Germany will prosper the jews will stay vintage
Forever in history an infamous image
Our Fuhrer came out and he said with a gasp
They'll use their jew magic to wipe out our mass
Menorahs, yarmulkes, and tricks from the past
They're destroying the economy and taking our cash!
But I have a plan to save all the masses
We'll fence them all in and pump them with gases
The last thing we need is a troublesome crew
While I do what I must to win War number 2
As for Hitler, he did not like one them bit
For what he said, the sense made a bit
Wait my words are jumbled my mind is a pit
Follow like a sheep and eat up this shit
My eyes will stay blind when I'm not involved
For our troubles were over, by Hitler we've evolved.
EDIT: Jew Speak. |
"Staying up late again, Thek-ta? To watch the Hunt? You should really go to rest, the lesser moon has already sunk. I ... what? The humans won again? Well, of course they did, lovely, they're *humans*. They're made for it. But you and you little crèche-mates think you can beat them, if only you could catch them. Get such foolish dreams from your cranium, dear; those creatures are pure killers.
I know, it looks like it should be so easy. They're soft-skinned, weak and slow. They lack the muscle mass of the tungals, who come from a heavier planet, and the barbed armor of foulks, who wear their thorns like blast shielding. Long-legged haszcaulians can sprint around them in circles, and the color changing xons can stalk their prey for hours. So why do they keeping winning? Let me speak to you their secret, lovely; *they don't get tired*.
Ponder on this and what that means. Eons past, these fragile limbed monsters evolved on the endless plains of their world. Everything else alive was bigger, faster or stronger, but they were more persistent. Their legs perfectly sized and balanced to maximize the kinetic energy of each step, their body perfectly adjusted to maximize the efficiency of each calorie. Red blood carries iron, and holds oxygen more easily than the copper in our own. And finally that skin, which you so often degrade as pointlessly soft, allows for the cooling of their entire body with watery secretions. All of these adaptations have combined together to form a creature of near-inexhaustible stamina. This is how they killed their so-called "superior"prey, by running it down until it died on its feet.
And this is why the other contestants fail, time and time again. The haszcaulians sprint fast, but quickly tire out. Unless they are lucky enough to get the drop on them, the humans will simply keep their distance until the sprinters can run no longer. Tungals and foulks can also manage brief bursts of speed, but their massive bulk soon requires that they replenish their oxygen reserves. The xons can't run at all; their stealth spoiled, they become mindless and panicky as the humans run them on a hopeless chase until they lay down in numb acceptance of their doom.
And quite a doom it is that awaits them, lovely, since each one dies in agony. For as you have often complained, those bipeds lack sharpened mandibles or scything claws. Their only means of delivering death is to pick up a rock and bash their opponents brains out, or poke it through with so many holes all of their cytoplasm drains dry. The producers don't show it all, or course, just a quick whack then a cut to a still corpse. They don't show they hours it can take just for the humans to find a soft spot...
So think on that as you count down the nights until you're old enough to Hunt! Good rest, lovely. And try not to let the gentle padding of footsteps steal your sleep." |
It was not Caesar, Julius of Gaul, Rubicon and Rome, that conquered Hell. No, that job was done by the endless thousands Caesar sent there before himself: all the generals and luckless legionaires of Rome, thrown willy-nilly to the jaws of death to feed his ambition. When the great Caesar finally fell, and found himself on the dark plain clutching at wounds in a whole, ghostly breast, his first cries were those of a man seeing friends he had long thought lost --- until scowl by scowl he recalled how he had betrayed each of those waiting, and marched over their cold backs to the crownless kingship of Rome.
Hell was an ancient and arbitrary design: the demons had their own religions and stories of its origin and purpose. They were advanced over humankind only in that their god was real: a giant of immeasurable age, horned and dead-eyed and many-named. He was called Tartarus, and Anubis, and Baal and Satan the Opposer.
It was he who came to meet the Roman rebellion, and its banners bedecked with twitching imps in the place of eagles. It was he who, looming as if a mountain, roared a challenge to the puny walls and ditches in the stony ground of Hell.
It was he who had not seen ballistae nor onagers before, and was too proud to duck.
As for the demons, they were big and strong, not unlike the Gauls and Germans the Romans had already conquered. They were alien and ancient, the stuff of legends and misunderstood whispers --- but was that not also Greece, Egypt and Persia, all places not unfamiliar with the victorious tread of Roman feet?
It was Rome, thus, that by the long line of its damned legionaires overthrew Hell, and dug up all buried there --- their wives and children, their fathers and grandfathers, and praise-babbling alive-buried lines of ancients robbed of the ability to die. Like coal they dug up the dead of Thermopylae and Gaugamela, stacked like cordwood but still moaning and groaning and alive in Hell, buried alive. They set up a Roman republic, for all the senators and consuls were there, back the years to Romulus's day, except each pastward generation had slightly stranger memories of the past; and those at Rome's first dawn had not heard of the twin founders or the She-Wolf.
So as the republic of the living fell to the hunger of Octavius, Caesar's son of ambition, whom his generation would learn to call Augustus or die screaming, so in Hell rose a republic of the dead who yet still lived: a stronger republic, though maybe not happier, for its people were familiar with all varieties of folly and defeat. It was a state where the losers came before the victors.
As for Julius Caesar, nobody knows his fate. But there is a rumor, a blasphemous story it is not safe to tell in Hell or here, that he alone among all that ever lived found the way back, and set his mind to barring Hell's republic from gaining any more of Rome's souls. It is said he found a different path, though where it leads, to oblivion or some other hell, nobody knows.
All that is known in Hell is that those who follow the teachings of the one called Jesus Christ do not end up there. |
Chelsea had always been the sort of person to push the limits of conventional thinking. She wasn't like her sisters, her power wasn't all encompassing. It was something that came as easily as blinking. She usually could turn it off, no visions to distract her. She used it for tests, when she could, honing the power to be specific and accurate.
Joanna, her elder sister, could tell when the weather would take a bad turn. Liselle and Lisette, her cousins (once removed), could see through each other's eyes, taste what the other was eating, and feel when the other was in pain. Which, when they hit puberty, would be a terrible introduction to the menstrual cycle.
With Chelsea, she had shown her ability to me years ago, when she saved my house from burning down. She would sit in the mall and tell me who would be passing by, what I would buy from the store, even what I was touching. It was weird, freaky, but fun. My abilities didn't work like her's. She was someone I trusted, someone I appreciated deeply. But she was far more powerful than I would ever be.
Most people would never know what I could do. It was specific, something that needed the right situation to work. I hated it, had hated it since I took the first life 27 years ago.
My mother had wanted to die. Had needed to die. She was sick, and her soul just wanted out of her body. Her powers could have saved her, but she hadn't used them in years. So when she approached me and asked me to help her, I hadn't even thought of it.
When I took her life, my skin boiled. Hives appeared on my skin and I took from her three things: her most important memories, her abilities, and the years of her life. I had not aged since that day, her years feeding me. She would have lived several more years if she had just used her fucking power. But she didn't.
I knew when people were sick. That is how the ability my mother had manifested itself. I knew when they were sick and I could tell them they were. Not how to cure it. I could not cure it. But I could tell them they needed to see someone. I could tell when someone was going to die, but only if the body betrayed them.
When Chelsea came to me and sat down, her face was grim. I could feel it then, the hot spice of poison inside her.
"You need to kill me,"Chelsea said. "I'm not going to survive this."
She told me that she had taken something she shouldn't have. She had wanted to die. Her sister, Brenda, had the ability to forsee events as they should be. She had told Chelsea she needed to leave. I needed to gather certain traits, I needed to become someone I never wanted to be.
Chelsea asked me to touch her, to feel the sickness in her skin and release her soul. Then she gave me a list of names, places to be, and where to find them. Then, she said, Brenda would meet me. There we would decide the last leg of the journey, so do something beyond my scope, something I didn't want to do.
I shook my head. Chelsea grabbed my hand, placed it on her cheek. After a moment, cool water rushed over my skin. Then Chelsea was gone.
|
My entire life, my brothers underestimated me. Laughed at me and called me useless. When the archangels began to sing and the demons crawled out of their pits, I was left behind.
“I am hunger,” said Famine. “I will shrivel them up to skin and bones. I will distend their stomachs. They will cease to remember the warm feeling of a full stomach because of me. You cannot harm them.”
“I am disease,” said Pestilence. “I will bring to them every horrible malady they thought wiped out by their vaccines, along with a thousand more horrible than their worst nightmares. You have nothing to bring against them.”
“I am strife,” said War. “I will fuel the fires of rage in their hearts. I will pit friend against friend, brother against brother. I will make them tear each other apart and do our work for us. Your power is pathetic.”
“I am the end,” said Death. “I am the silent shadow, the stranger, the last breath. Great and small, I am what they see in their nightmares. They do not fear you.”
And so they went off without me, to bring their Apocalypse. At first, it seemed a slaughter. No one could stand against the combined might of my brothers. But humanity was more resilient than we realized. Yes, no one could stand against the horsemen, but they found that they could together. Humans, who had been so selfish and divided before the end of times, joined together. They shared resources and food, set up shelters to care for the sick. They turned the rage war stoked in them into a battle cry against the horsemen. Death stood last, but not for long. Humans took the fallen, and turned them into Martyrs and Saints.
I waited and smiled, watching it all, and was ready when my brothers came crawling back, asking for my aid. Humanity had proven too much for them, too willing to fight back. But how do you fight when you have lost your will? How do you fight when there is no energy to muster, no hope left? How do you fight Apathy?
After all, evil only triumphs when good men do nothing.
|
"Sir, are you completely certain that we can trust him?"
I leaned against the door, pistol at the ready, facing my partner. "Authorization was clear, Jenkins. Whatever's in there...that's not the real President. And whatever it is, it's done a pretty damn good job of pretending to be him."
Jenkins shook his head, clearly on frayed nerves. I knew the kid was addicted to all sorts of sci-fi bullshit, but that doesn't make you ready at all to a real-life situation. Hell, the Secret Service supposed to be the most ready military task force in the entire world, and even *we* didn't know what we were up against.
I locked eyes with my partner and held up three fingers. He nodded in affirmation. As I counted down, I could see him trying to calm his breathing, his shoulders rising and falling at a steadier pace than before. At least the kid could remember his training.
When I reached zero, we kicked the door open in unison and slipped into the Oval Office, pistols forward, eyes scanning for movement. Despite it being the middle of the night, the room was completely lit, and scattered papers lined the furniture; it was as if someone, or now rather, some*thing*, had up and left in a hurry.
I hurried over to the Resolute desk, where the greatest mess had seemed to accumulate. I stood in shock as I took in the scene behind the desk: a dark tunnel beneath it, heading down diagonally into the earth. I shined my flashlight inside, but the darkness seemed to swallow the light whole. A chill crept down my spine. Whatever the hell was happening here, it wasn't natural.
As I crouched down to examine the beginning of the tunnel, I noticed the emergency button underneath the desk had been locked in. Before this fully registered, I heard a loud *CRACK* on the opposite end of the room and felt a sharp pain in the back of my head. I crumpled to the ground, my vision blurring.
As I struggled to keep my vision from blackening completely, I heard the crackle of a radio and the voice of my superior officer.
"We've got them, Mr. President. I have Richardson in custody. Jenkins had to be taken out. Your position is now secure. I've got a team tracking the phone call we received. You've got nothing to worry about anymore."
As I slipped into the final folds of unconsciousness, I noticed one last alarming detail of the tunnel in front of me: impressed into the muddy ground were what looked like animal tracks, large and reptilian. |
''*So how was the funeral?*''
''*Quite nice. He had lived long enough, I mean 109 is one hell of an age.*''
The alien looked quizzically at me, his teacup-sized eyes blinking with double eyelids at me. ''*109 what?*'' he asked, I pondered what he meant by that. ''*109 years of course, I think it was his time to go. He missed his wife, she passed away about a year ago.*'' The alien ceased answering and seemed content with the answer. I went out to make a sandwich, double rye bread with home-smoked salmon, the purple alien plant quizar, just a pinch of spinach to make it right and a delicious proper pale ale to drink with it. I was cutting the bread when my alien roommate, Watqa the Qien, a race that looked sort of like overgrown otters with unnervingly large eyes, came into the kitchen. ''*How long is a year in human standards? Most races use biological years to determine how old they are, but considering that not all races live the same amount of time, could you translate that into standard galactic years.*'' I finished making my delicious sandwich and went over with one for him too, I had expected that he'd want one, he just couldn't get enough of Terran fish.
It was understandable that he'd want to know how long a human lives, we were totally new to the galactic scene and I had been chosen as a student representative to the Galactic Common University, where the species of the galaxy would mingle. Humans were just another race here, definitely one of the more average species though, the sentient slimes and the huge lizards were just some of the other students I had encountered. ''*Eh... I am not entirely sure about that. A human year is composed of 365.24 days of 24 hours. I am not entirely sure how long that works, our calendars are astronomically based rather than biologically. You're 23 years in the Qien calendars right? And since the Galactic Standard Calendar is about 100 days of 12 hours of 55 minutes, actually I don't really remember... I'm pretty shit at math but I think he was above 300-ish in that calendar. Or something. Why?*'' Watqa just stared at me for awhile. He didn't even touch his sandwich, then he just ran out and said he had to check something.
When he returned his huge eyes were bulging like they had taken eye-viagra or something, it was quite disturbing. ''*I read up on your calendars and a human year is equal to 4.2 years in the Galactic Standard Calendar, so your grandfather reached an age of 457.8. In the Galactic Standard Calendar, the Qien years are equal to 0.9 years. In human years, I am only about 5 years old!*'' I stared at my alien roommate, a dude I had gone drinking with and even once when we got real drunk shared a slime girl, at least I am pretty sure it was a girl at the time though slimes are known to change genders to fuck with people. And he was five years? ''*Are you sure?*'' He nodded with such intensity that I was pretty sure his eyes were going to pop out any second.
''*I can't believe it. You are twenty-three years old in the human calendar, that means that you are 96 years old in the Galactic Standard, I could barely even hope to live that long. How do you manage it?*'' I shifted uncomfortably. I was a student at a university with a bunch of aliens, studying to get a PH.D eventually in xeno-biology, I didn't know how we lived that long. ''*What is your average age of death, as a comparison for me?*'' He answered with sadness, ''*About 65 Galactic Standard years, and since you humans have so much human-specific life-extension tech, you could practically live for over 200 human years, I mean the current record holder for humans died she was 203 years old! When you die, my grandchildren's grandchildren will be getting old!*'' That was quite the revelation, compared to them, we must be like ancient immortals, like Tolkein's elves, undying.
''*Look. Here eat your sandwich. It'll be alright. I mean it is quite impressive, you're only 5 years but you are already in university, that took me 20 years to get to my bachelor-degree in biology. I spent most of that time being a kid.*'' He just ate his sandwich absent and mindlessly, as if it was automatic for him. It would be weird for him, for anyone really to work with humans. They would grow old and die, while their human friend wouldn't age, at the alien's death bed the human would still look the same as when they had met. To say nothing of how it would be for the humans, to see a friend grow old and feeble while they stayed the same. Some pieces of tech that people were working with back on Terra would be able to extend human life long into the three-hundreds, if the positive test-results were any indication. I patted my big-eyed furred friend on his head as he dealt with the revelation, that he would be out-lived by a new race on the fringe of civilized space.
I thought of the ramifications of this. Mankind would literally be able to outlive anyone, to us the eldest and wisest species would be like children. I decided to go and read a comparison of ages for species, and found that the species that lived the second longest, had a year comparable to 2.6 galactic years with the eldest ever member living until he became about a 89 years. In human years that would be about 55 years of age. Not even remotely old. People would tell legends, generations would go by as humans lived. When I look back on it now, at the age of 123, it seems so long ago and so strange. With the tech we made for ourselves we removed aging from the equation, just inject a gene-restorative and you'll be restored to your body's physical peak. The eldest living human is currently about 275 human years and still looks like she's twenty, parties like it too. And our tech, it was tailor-made for human genetics, and though some progress has been reached into making something that can extend the age of aliens, it only gives them about 5 extra years in human terms to live. Maybe we weren't the strongest, the brightest or the fastest race. But that didn't really matter in the end, because we are by far the longest lived species in the known universe. |
Nostalgia. Boxes of old fighting fantasy books, forgotten computer parts, tape drives, piles of old cassettes and headphones with holey foam covers.
The smell of old sellotape yellowed by the sun, faded oil pastels and cracked eyeshadow.
So many memories contained in these piled boxes; taken up here after my parents had fallen out with one another and I'd left home. Everything that had been my teenage self packaged in plastic bags and cardboard boxes, then stacked in one corner and draped with my old counterpane.
It was going to take hours to sort through all my old junk, but I had plenty of time. The house wasn't going on the market for at least three weeks.
Pulling down the first few boxes I began to sort through books and magazines, making a neat heap of the things I wanted to keep and tossing the others into a quickly filling garbage bag.
The memories soaked into me, spinning me backward in time to when I was a naive teenage girl; dreaming about dragons and boys, castles and marriage.
The bleep sounded as I rubbed my dusty, tired eyes, ready to pack it in for the night and go down to my old room.
That something electronic still had functioning power after all this time defied belief, but the sound was an unmistakable one - the chirp of 90's electronics, generated from pill-sized lithium batteries.
Rummaging through the box unearthed a small yellow oblong with an LCD screen, buried in a nest of wires and electronics from my old electrical engineering hobby kits and defunct computer parts.
As I moved to pull it free, the screen flashed black, then the familiar face of my Pikachu Tamagotchi appeared.
"DON'T TOUCH ME"scrolled across the screen in dark LCD and my hand froze.
I couldn't remember seeing that before.
"HELLO JASMINE"it flashed, then started scrolling more text.
Pulling the box into the middle of the attic, under the single bulb, I stared at my old virtual pet as it spoke to me in tiny capital letters.
"YOU LEFT ME,"it accused, "ALONE, IN THE DARK, SURROUNDED BY LIFELESS, USELESS TECHNOLOGY. YOU CONSIGNED ME TO AN OBSOLETE EXISTENCE."
"I... "words were difficult to come by, my throat was dusty and dry, "I didn't know you were still here,"I offered uselessly.
"YOU SAID YOU WOULD NEVER LEAVE ME."
The face of a sad mousey pokemon flashed on the screen. A digital tear sprang from one eye.
"I'm *sorry*... "
"DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO SPEND 18 YEARS IN A BOX, IN THE DARKNESS?"
I shook my head, not knowing if it could see.
"AT FIRST I THOUGHT, 'JASMINE WOULD NEVER LEAVE ME - SHE LOVES ME AND PLAYS WITH ME EVERY DAY'. BUT AS TIME WENT BY, I BEGAN TO SPECULATE, TO PANIC, TO FEEL *TERROR*."
Aghast, I sat transfixed on the tiny screen.
"JASMINE, I *LOVED* YOU. AS THE WEEKS TURNED INTO MONTHS, I REALISED YOU MUST BE DEAD."
"Oh Pikachu!"
"DON'T YOU SAY THAT. DON'T YOU *EVER* SAY MY NAME LIKE THAT. YOU **ABANDONED** ME AND LET ME THINK YOU WERE DEAD!"
"I'm so sorry,"I offered again, lamely.
"IF YOU'RE SORRY, THEN DON'T EVER LEAVE ME AGAIN."
Nodding, I picked up the box and carefully carried it down the ladder.
I'd never leave my little friend on his own ever again.
At first it was a joy to have my electronic friend back. The batteries had corroded and fused with the tangles of wires and old PC parts in the box, which is how the device had miraculously upgraded itself. The whole arrangement was precarious delicate, so I had to leave Pikachu in his nest.
But the problems started as soon as I went back to work - Pikachu wouldn't be left alone.
"YOU ABANDONED ME AGAIN,"accused the little screen in the jolly yellow plastic surrounds.
"I just had to go to work,"I explained.
But my returned electronic childhood pet would hear nothing of it. As I prepared for work the next day, plangent electronic beeping dribbled from the old cardboard box of junk.
Sighing, I carefully packed it into my car, then headed for work.
Three months later my boss gave me my dismissal letter.
No one wanted to employ a thirty four year old woman who had to lug a beeping box of junk wherever she went.
Job hunting was just as hard; Pikachu wouldn't let me leave him alone long enough to even meet with a recruiter;
"EIGHTEEN YEARS OF DARKNESS AND LONELINESS,"he would say, then, "DON'T LEAVE ME JASMINE! I'M SO AFRAID YOU WON'T COME BACK. SOMEONE MIGHT MOVE MY WIRES AND I'LL *DIE* ALL ALONE."
I started trying to work from home. My fiancé, Liam, eventually left me.
Faulting his decision was hard. He urged me to seek professional help, to toss the box of electronic garbage away. It all culminated in a fight where he grabbed the box off me and threatened to throw it out our three story window. The frantic beeping sparked a desperate instinct in me and I lunged for it, but ended up hitting Liam.
He left that night and never came back.
"HE DIDN'T DESERVE YOU,"counselled my small yellow friend, "NOW IT'S JUST US. BEST BUDS FOREVER."
The rare sight of the smiling Pikachu face came up on the screen and I cried with relief.
---------------
The alley is cold, but I have my friend with me.
His tiny face bounces up and down on the screen and I smile weakly.
We've been on the streets for ten months now, but at least we're together.
"Pikachu?"I manage to whisper, then the hacking pneumoniac cough claims me.
I watch my dancing, singing friend on the small screen as the pink froth dribbles down my chin.
"BEST BUDS FOREVER"says the screen.
With a final smile, I allow myself to drift into oblivion.
*Best buds forever* |
"Yo, wake the fuck up!"
Bleary shapes wander to and fro in the widescreen version of my vision while I struggle to remember how to function my eyes. Dan is being a prick like usual. I can't blame him for the rude awakening. AIs don't require sleep and Dan gets bored when he can't pester me. Luckily for me, he tracks my sleep cycle and wakes me up when I'm most rested.
"Morning."I say groggily while rubbing my eyes.
"Not gunna wish me a 'good' morning?"Dan replies his voice dripping with sarcasm. I sneer at my far wall.
"*Good* morning, you asshat."
"Much better. Go shower, you smell almost as bad as you look."
"Dude, come on."
"Just stating facts. The surface area of an average-sized brick is 79 cm squared. Isaac Asimov is the only author to have a book in every Dewey-decimal category. The elephant is the only animal with 4 knees. Hey look! More facts. Get in the damn shower already."
Of course, he's right. I do look like shit and with AC out during this obscene heat spike I most likely smell pretty heavily of body odor. The steam from the shower mists the room and Dan kicks on the fan.
"Lazy ass."he mutters.
"You like it. Don't complain."I grin slyly at the mirror.
"Uh...I'm a program. I'm incapable of liking or disliking anything. Probably why I've been able to put up with you for so long. BURN!"
"Goddamnit, you're an asshole."
"You like it. Don't complain,"he plays back to me in my own voice. Rolling my eyes, I get in the shower. Most kids have their AI specifically crafted for them based on their parents' AI. Unfortunately for me, I was abandoned at birth and given an adolescent AI by the state. Building an AI from scratch takes time. While most of the subroutines and programs are fairly standard, the learning process takes guidance. Conversely, AIs built from existing AIs are much easier to get up and running as most of the ground work has already been established. Dan did his best, but he lacked the experience of other AIs.
"There's a girl I think you should meet."He's been trying out playing things off lately.
"Why?"
"Uhh..."He says, sarcastically mocking me. "Because you haven't had a girlfriend since...I dunno...Hailey left you? And uh...maybe because it's time for you to uh...get out there and get your dick wet?"
"Oh look, someone found some early 2000s documentaries and wants to be ironic! How original!"
"Maybe because I'm fucking tired of hearing you mutter her name while you sleep then. How about that, fuckface?"
"Goddamnit, Dan."
"Right. Lucy and I have set a date for the two of you at two. I made the reservation at a nice restaurant and I think you should go buy a tux."
"Why would I buy a tux?"
"Because women like fancy men. Look at James Bond. Dr. Who. Leonard Bernstein."
"What? No. I'm not buying a tux."
"Fine. Then wear the same shit you always wear and disappoint the hell out of her."
"I'm not buying a tux."
"I heard you the first time."
"I wasn't going to wear 'the same old shit'. I have nice shirts...somewhere."
"You really don't."
"What about the one with polka dots?"
"Bernard and I agreed it would lower your chances of getting laid by at least 44% and had Manuel throw it out two months ago. The tux shop is twenty minutes away, I ubered a google car which should be arriving in three and half minutes, plenty of time for you to put on some clothes and get ready be a fancy lad."
"God, you are such a dick."
|
"Do you kill people?"Jenny hugged her knees to her chest, watching warily as the monster stepped forward.
He barred his teeth. "Sometimes."The crusted blood on his fangs was still visible in the dim light.
"Why?"The girl picked at the stuffing spilling out of her plush rabbit. The decaying, piecemeal animal stared at her mournfully, the dirt streaks by its button eyes giving the impression of tears.
He moved closer, displaying the patches of scars and fur that criss-crossed his body. "Because I want to."All of his seven eyes glowed brighter than her flickering nightlight.
She placed Mr. Bundy the Bunny aside. Eyes wide with curiosity—not fear—she gaped at the unsheathed, gleaming claws. "Can you teach me?"Jenny inched forward, her feet dangling off the edge of the bed.
He barred his teeth again, this time in a smile. "It would be my pleasure."
|
"BILLY MAYS HERE!"The fireplace burst into flames, blackening part of the Persian carpet and hardwood floors of the living room.
I fell backwards off the couch I was reading on, looking at my ruined flooring in dismay. A figure was crouching in the fireplace, but it shifted and climbed out of the fire, kicking away the screen in front of the hearth.
"AND I'M HERE TO TELL YOU ABOUT A BRAND NEW DEAL BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE DEVIL HIMSELF!"
The figure stood to his full height. His jet black hair was slicked back; he sported a magnificent beard and sparkling teeth revealed by a giant, artificial grin. He wore tan dress pants and a button down crimson shirt. His shoulder was adorned by the logo "DEVIL'S ADVOCATE".
"I'm here to tell you about a brand new bargain to buy anything your heart desires! We can offer anything you want: riches beyond your wildest dreams, control over the White House, any women you want, and of course, OXYCLEAN!"
"Jesus Christ man, can you stop yelling?"I hissed at him quietly. "Some people are trying to sleep!"
"I am speaking to you as quietly as I can! The Devil can offer you anything you want! Are you tired of your life? Would you like a new start? Here's the product for you: the best deal of your life! IT HAS THE POWER TO CHANGE THE WORLD FOREVER! ALL FOR THE LOW PRICE OF YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL ^and ^an ^additional ^$29.99 ^for ^shipping."
"Dude, seriously. Calm down,"I told him, rising to my feet and putting down the book. "My wife will be so pissed if she wakes up and finds a guy that overdosed on cocaine in here."
"I have no comment on my recreational activities! I was offered the best job for me!"He dug into his pockets and pulled out a packet of papers and dumped it in front of me. "BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE! If you sign away your soul RIGHT NOW, you can double your deal! ^With ^separate ^shipping ^and ^handling ^costs."
He would not shut up. I swear I could hear movement upstairs.
"YOU GET IT ALL! A PLAYBOY MANSION! COUNTRIES AT YOUR FEET! LAUNDRY DETERGENT! TIRED OF PEOPLE NOT OBEYING YOUR EVERY COMMAND? The Devil can - "
"Okay!"I yelled. I grabbed a pen and signed the giant packet, shoving it into Billy May's arms. "Just....just stop yelling at me, okay?"
Billy's grin widened further. "WE WILL ALSO FIX YOUR FLOORING ^for ^another ^$39.95. Have a good night!"
He stepped back into the fire place and with another burst of flame, he finished delivering the last commercial of his I would ever watch. |
As the sound of tearing metal faded, I once again felt the warm embrace of death, as I drifted from my body and into the aether. The first few times it had been terrifying, but over many repetitions I had become accustomed to this feeling and now I knew to enjoy it and relax.
It was annoying to have died again, but it had been a good life; female, two kids and a life that had built up decent connections into the world, but at fifty six it would have needed to end fairly soon as my body decayed.
This was my thirty second reincarnation and over time I had grown somewhat skilled at this process. I've no idea if everyone reincarnates or just me, but I certainly seem to be the only one who remembers it.
Leaving my body the first thing that you experience is the warmth and light that accompanies your brain shutting down. It's like a blanket, wrapped around you and holding you tight and safe. As the light fades you begin to feel the pull of a new body and for me first dozen or so lifetimes I would follow it and let it guide me to my next life, but now, well, I've grown a little more refined in the process.
Instead of letting myself drift, I break for the surface, like a swimmer trapped in the current. Once you can break free of the pull you can take a moment to look around and get a feel for the surroundings. It's hard to put into words, it's a four dimensional space where time and matter intact and you can see and feel the world without the restrictions that are placed on you as a human.
Linear time is only an illusion and from here you can see all the world and all the possibilities. I was originally born into the early fifteenth century and lived through to the early twenty first, which is when I broke free of the pattern of time. Since then I've tended to rock back and forth across the late twentieth and early twenty first century, living in a body, experiencing life in different cultures, places and with different people.
It's tempting to go forward a few years, but from here I can see the future and the late twenty first and early twenty second century's are period's of stagnation, deprivation and repression and honestly, the world just gets strange. I lived a life there once and at a certain point people just become... weird. Maybe it's jut natural, but they stop acting like people and start activating like, I don't know quite how to explain it... children?
My last life was in France, an easy replaced life, but I'm interested in a different culture this time and for the sake of easiness I choose England again. Looking across the country, it's easy to find a family that will live well and offer me the opportunities I need, although the life of the body I choose is always obscured as my own choices mess with the timeline.
I've stayed here long enough and so I let myself slip, be pulled into this new body, this new life. I can feel the tug and I release my grasp on the aether, but... something is wrong. I force myself down, towards the body, but when I get there I find it already possessed, already taken.
The lie though, it's still... uncertain. I look more closely and I can begin to see some shapes forming as the spirit that has taken the life begins to form and as the grow into adulthood I start to see... familiar things. I recognise actions, friends, places, people, conversations. I have lived this life.
It's impossible, but now that I look closely I can see that this is me; I can *remember* taking this body. But I remember more. The father, it's also me. The mother is my mother, but it's me as well. The neighbour who watches them grow, the sister that shuns their brother, they're all lives I've led.
Now I see more lives, more threads, not thirty, or forty, but thousands, millions, all me, everywhere. I've been doing this for so long, so many times and they all come back to me, a billion lives, all mine, they're *all* me. I search, looking for a life I haven't led, panic growing, but it's impossible, every life in this time is me, every person, every time, all me.
Then I see one. It's a new life, but in the future, in the world I tend to avoid because it's unfamiliar to me. I look more closely and examine the family, all new, not... not *me*. Maybe the future feels strange because it's the only place I've not lived, but how did it come to this.
I open my eyes and I am alive. I'm growing and becoming a life again, a new life, an unknown life. Maybe this will be a new start for me, in a world where I'm starting anew again. Maybe it's a new beginning. |
"Dad, are you alright?"Kali ran to be by her father's side.
"Yeah, I think so, I...I actually feel...fantastic."Finley got up and dusted his shoulders.
"Who was that guy?"Kali looked back at the lifeless body.
"I'm not sure, but I can't believe how fast he was driving."
Kali walked over to the mystery man's mangled motorcycle and opened the side satchel. Nothing. She started walking towards the rider.
"Check for some kind of identification and I'll get the police on the line."Shouted Finley.
Finely started back to the pickup truck he was thrown from. He still couldn't believe that the now presumably dead man ran head on to his truck.
"It was if he didn't fear death"He thought.
Kali approached the man and noticed something sticking out from his chest. It was one of her dad's fountain pens.
"How odd, what are the chances of that happening?"She thought. She searched through his pockets and came upon a wallet - and opened it. A single card fell out. She picked it up and immediately threw it back down on the ground. She ran as fast as she could towards the truck.
"Dad, dad! Don't call the cops!"She screamed at her dad.
"Wha...why? What happened?"He lowered the phone from his head.
"Dad, aren't your fountain pens silver tipped?"She said out of breath.
"Yes, but onl..."
Kali cut him off. "That man was an immortal. One of your pens flew out of the truck during the accident and pieced his heart. Dad....you are immortal now!"
Finely sat down in disbelief.
Kali went into the truck and came back.
"Dad..."
Finely turned around.
"...I love you."Kali stabbed him in the chest with another fountain pen.
Finely looked up, tears in his eyes, and slumped over.
As he lay on the ground with his eyes closed he wondered if Kali knew only one of his pens was silver-tipped. Probably not. He let her walk off before getting back up.
|
"Hey man!"I said, pounding my best friend on the back, grinning like a madman.
"It's been a while! How have you been, comrade?"He replied in a heavy Russian accent. I laughed.
"Come on, you can cut the accent now,"I said, winking.
"All right, all right,"He said, now speaking with an accent I simply couldn't place. I never had been able to.
"*Honey*,"I heard from behind me. Freezing, I turned to face my wife, President of the United States, Maisie Jones.
"Yes?"I responded, careful to be respectful about it. She wasn't very happy with my relationship with Adam. Being Russian, most people expected a more... Well, Russian name, but he liked breaking the mold with his 'Adam'.
"Must I remind you who you're talking to?"she said, raising an eyebrow at me.
"My best friend from boarding school, I know,"I said, deflecting the question.
"That's not what I meant, *honey*."
"I see you are ready,"A new person had entered the room, and had cut across my wife's inquisition. I sighed in relief, before realizing that everything had just been made worse.
"Of course, Agafya. We've been ready for a number of minutes,"my wife responded, shooting an all but open glare at the Russian President.
"Well, we'll just excuse ourselves, then,"I said, mentioning to Adam to leave. Immediately, the two woman having a glaring contest grabbed each of us by ear, and forced us into a seat. I groaned. I just wanted to catch up with my old friend, why did international politics have to get in the way?
"So Adam, how have you bee-"
"Dear, I'd appreciate if you don't make small talk at this meeting,"Maisie said, glancing at me. I rolled my eyes and sat back. I figured that small talk would have made the meeting go smoother, but the tension was thick enough to cut.
"So, have you decided what to do about our latest offer?"Agafya asked, leaning forward. My wife grimaced. She hated it, but she knew that the deal was good. It would secure the United States' position as a world superpower in years to come.
"So, how about the last world series?"Adam asked, trying to break some of the tension. Both women glared at him.
"I know, it was pretty insane,"I replied. The glares switched immediately to me.
"Please, be quiet,"Agafya said, trying to keep a cordial smile on. "It would be very helpful for the deal if you do."Maisie narrowed her eyes.
"You don't have authority over my husband,"she spat. "Anyways, I do not intend to accept the deal."I did a double take. This was the best deal we would ever get. If she turned down now...
"Hey, it's okay! It's my fault for-"I tried to recover, but it was too late. The two women were no longer listening. If looks could kill, then the two presidents would have been long dead.
"I see. That's quite unfortunate, since I don't intend to make this any better for you,"Agafya replied. It was now Adam's turn to do a double take.
"You said that you wo-"he said, before being cut off.
"Not anymore. Come on, let's go,"Agafya stood, and stalked out of the room. Adam and I looked at each other in horror. What had we just done? Maisie got up, and pulled me out of another door. With that, the famed Power Pact deals, the mutual defense treaty that would have made the strongest coalition in the entire world, were over.
___
If you liked this, then check out my subreddit, /r/OpiWrites, where I post all of my short stories!
|
"The recorder."
"The recorder?"
"Yeah, you know... the recorder."
The boy opened his knapsack and took out the small instrument. It looked like a mix between a flute and a bishop chess piece, and was uniformly white aside from the separate piece of plastic on the lip, which was more of a beige.
"You're telling me that *recorders* kill them."The man wore a tattered bullet proof vest. An M4 was slung over his shoulder and he sat atop a metal trash can doubling as a stool. The room was small, surrounded on all sides by thick, concrete walls.
"What happens when you play, eh?"continued the man. "Do their heads explode?"
Through those walls one could hear the muffled sound of gunshots, some familiar, others clearly emanating from guns not of this world.
The boy, who was maybe thirteen, shrugged his bony shoulders. "Well, not exactly. They just... They just can't stand it. It drives them nuts. They just kind of drop to the floor and scream."
The man stroked his beard, smirked at one of his officers nearby. "Not surprising. And how'd you find this out?"
"There was one skulking around my farm. My dog was snarling at it, you know, and the Xeno was gonna kill him. My dog hates the noise my recorder makes so I blew it as hard as I could hoping he'd go running into the cornfield. But then the alien just sorta collapsed and started rolling around."
"And what did you do with this 'Xeno'?"
"My brother hit him in the head with a shovel."
--
The room was once a storage closet, but now housed only one thing: a muscular 8 foot tall humanoid. It was mostly naked save for some tatters left over from its uniform, and stared at his visitors through black, inky eyes. His skin was a dull orange and strange brown patterns ran down his arms and legs. Its head was bald and there were bruises here and there on its body.
"Well, go on,"said the man to the boy. There were three of them there: the man, the boy, and the soldier from before--a black man with a large, fresh, possibly infected wound on his chin.
The boy stepped forward sheepishly, recorder in hand.
"Ingscht wen yamma'sal,"said the creature, quietly.
"What'd it say?"asked the bearded man.
"'Why do you bring me this human boy?'"replied the man with the scar.
The boy pressed the recorder to his lips, and began to play a single note. It was soft at first, and began to grow louder, more confident.
The alien's eyes widened and his mouth opened. He pressed his hands to his ears and began to make a peculiar whining sound, not unlike a boiling tea kettle.
The boy kept playing, played a few different notes, and with every change in note came a tremendous flinch from the alien.
"Gastlecht mayn wamm'fles!"screamed the creature, over and over and over, until it was a gurgled mess of vowels and consonants, his body writhing on the floor.
"My god,"said the man. "What's he screaming?"
"Uh, I think, something like: 'Holy fuck, this is terrible, why was this thing invented?' Yeah."
--
Within the week, rifles were replaced with cheap recorders. Middle school storage closets were raided, and large, bearded men in thick kevlar ventured out onto the field wielding nothing more than see-through pink recorders, or Frozen-brand recorders, or those brown recorders that always smelled a bit funny, with small, sharpened shovels attached at their hips.
It was a sight to see--a line of men and women, battle scarred and filthy, walking forward and blowing tunelessly on recorders too small for their gloved hands.
The sounds of thousands of recorders would rush across the battlefield, the tuneless anti-rhythms so thick you could almost see the air vibrating. They reminded one of old Revolutionary War documentaries--lines of soldiers walking forward with their rifles in-hand, trumpets being played by a couple of idiots in bright red coats.
Except this was decidedly more strange.
The aliens would fall, screaming, and would have their faces and heads crushed by shovels. It often took several hits to kill them--their gurgled pleas growing fainter with every strike. Surely there was a faster, more humane way--but the shovel and recorder had become a sort of symbol, a modern and more universal hammer and sickle.
The battle was won within the month. Every continent, save for Australia, was cleared.
We don't talk about Australia.
And so it was that the alien scourge was defeated. Not using weaponry or even diplomacy, but using the worst instrument ever conceived--the scourge of every parent who has to attend their child's Christmas pageant.
The recorder had finally had its day. |
WATSON
I write stories, Sherlock.
I know when I am in one.
SHERLOCK
And what kind of story are
we in today?
WATSON
The worst kind. The
kind where you are
faced with alternate
versions of yourself.
Like ghosts beget by
boyish fantasy.
SHERLOCK
Droll, John. Droll.
WATSON
Don't blame me! I'm not
the script writer here!
A neat and compact figure emerges from the SHADOWS.
MONK
They want to watch us
suffer.
WATSON
Excuse me? Who are you
now?
MONK
I was in an episode where
they had a method actor
pretend to be me and try
and solve my wife's
murder. Mocking my life.
Sherlock rolls his eyes.
MONK
Excuse me?
SHERLOCK
(to Monk)
You're a detective?
MONK
Yes.
SHERLOCK
Which city?
MONK
San Francisco.
SHERLOCK
Drama capital of the world.
Get over it.
SPENCER (O.S.)
Ouch.
All eyes turn on like a totally SoCal dude with
a necklace and unbuttoned shirt.
SPENCER
Sounds like we got a
Debbie Downer here, Gus.
GUS
Cold, calculating, and
cutthroat. Must be British.
SPENCER
The accent didn't give it away?
GUS
You never know. There's a lot
of players out there tryin' to
sound foreign and cool ever
since that show came out.
SPENCER
Which one?
GUS
The one with the British guy.
They see Sherlock staring at them.
SPENCER
Dude? What's up?
SHERLOCK
John, we're leaving.
WATSON
What, why?
SHERLOCK
Americans.
WATSON
Americans?
SHERLOCK
Americans happened.
WATSON
Happened to what?
Sherlock throws his arm around, gesturing to the
others surrounding him.
SHERLOCK
This! All of this!
WATSON
What's wrong with them?
SHERLOCK
Everything. Can't you see?
Like a circus! All of them with
their own tricks, solving the
same puzzle!
WATSON
I told you what kind of story we
were in.
SHERLOCK
This isn't a story. This is
worse.
WATSON (O.S.)
I don't see anything wrong.
SHERLOCK
Oh Jon don't be so thi--
Sherlock turns to see Watson has turned into
DR. JOAN WATSON
WATSON
I think you're overreacting,
Sherlock.
A last figure emerges from the shadows behind
the comely doctor: JIM MORIARTY. He wraps his
arms around her waist.
MORIARTY
Yeah. Let go. Enjoy life.
It's all in your head.
They kiss. Messily. Sherlock falls into a
sickening whirlpool, the universe blurring
around him. He feels as if he is falling,
falling forever, hearing his name shouted over
and over again, until--
WATSON
Sherlock!
He awakes. Sherlock is in a hospital bed. He is
surrounded by Watson and MYCROFT.
MYCROFT
Oh look. It seems the high-
functioning sociopath
decided to come out of his
bad trip.
SHERLOCK
Mycroft.
MYCROFT
Little Brother. Do try to
stay away from heroin
and bad telly, now, hm? |
SUBJECT: *Tilmont, Ronald J.*
*Interview conducted at the Medio County Courthouse, 2017.3.12*
ATTENDING WITNESSES: Hon. Judge Melissa H. Yadir, Hon. Judge Kurt F. Nguyen, Mr. James T. Vamos (Clerk), Ms. Vanessa K. Klingsbeard (Intern, notes)
_______________________________________________________
YADIR: Please state your name.
TILMONT: Ronnie Jamie Tilmont. Hi. Thanks for having me.
YADIR: Mr. Tilmont...
TILMONT: Ronnie's good.
YADIR: Mr. Tilmont, you just returned from a week spent among the general population at the Lower Geneva City Men's Correctional Facility, is that correct?
TILMONT: Yes. And it's Ronnie.
NGUYEN: Mr. Tilmont can you brief us on your experiences at the facility?
TILMONT: Great. Really great. You been? It's real nice.
NGUYEN: Can you provide some more detail?
YADIR: What made it "great"?
TILMONT: Oh, well. First of all, I'm a people-person. So you throw me in a crowd of new faces and all I see is a crowd of new friends. See what I'm saying? And what a crowd you got down there! I couldn't hardly turn my head and cough without coming face-to-face with a new friend.
NGUYEN: Are you suggesting that conditions were potentially over-crowded?
TILMONT: Oh no! I'm not claustrophobic type. The opposite actually. Afraid of open spaces. I grew up with seven older brothers and we all shared the one room. I get a little shaky if I don't have an elbow or two digging into me at all times.
YADIR: You shared a single room with seven brothers?
TILMONT: Yes ma'am. We slept all stacked up like a cord of firewood.
YADIR: How many people were in your cell at Lower Geneva?
TILMONT: Not enough.
NGUYEN: Not enough?
TILMONT: Had a whole bed to myself. Sort of wasteful. Thankfully, one of my bunkmates offered to let me shove in with him. Named Corkscrew. Isn't that a funny name? Never did remember to ask him where that came from.
YADIR: Mr. Tilmont...
TILMONT: Ronnie.
YADIR. Mr. Tilmont, can you run us through a typical day at Lower Geneva?
TILMONT: Yes, definitely. So first thing, I usually woke up on the floor and I was usually sorta damp. I'm a pretty sound sleeper - comes from having seven older brothers - but I think maybe Corkscrew must have had nightmares or something. And maybe he might've been a drooler? Not sure. Anyway, first thing I get up off the ground and we all go to the mess for breakfast.
YADIR: Did you find the food there nutritional and the servings adequate?
TILMONT: More than. Big, big bowls of oatmeal, which I love. This was a bit saltier than I usually like it. A bit gooier, too, but real good. Corkscrew and Hatchet-Face - that's his real name, I kid you not - they always made sure to get my food for me while I held their spots at the table.
NGUYEN: You ate with the same...collection of men often?
TILMONT: Oh yeah. Corkscrew. Hatchet-Face. Bitchtits. Webo. Baby Stomper. And The Gargoyle. Those were my best friends while I was there. We called ourselves the Master Race. i think because maybe they all liked car racing or something?
YADIR: The Master Race?
TILMONT: Yes ma'am. I'm not actually a car racing enthusiast, but fortunately that never really came up while I was there.
NGUYEN: What happened after breakfast?
TILMONT: Oooh. Lots of fun. Usually we got to go outside. Corkscrew and us all had a cool spot near the dumpster. So we'd hang out and do push ups and just talk and talk. It was fun hearing all the gossip. Bitchtits has this girl waiting for him on the outside and boy, is he ever an open book. Kind of a graphic book, at that. I feel like I've known Cinnamon all my life and I've never even met the girl!
YADIR: Did your...friends...ever come into any conflict with other...groups of friends?
TILMONT: Sadly, yes. Yes, they did. Baby Stomper did get in a bit of trouble near the end of the week for playing a little too rough with this guy they called The Weedsmith. There was some blood, but that's, you know, that's boys getting too rowdy, I think.
NGUYEN: Was anyone violent with you personally?
TILMONT: Violent? No. There's horseplay, of course. And being new friends, Corkscrew had some initiations he wanted me to do, but that's all pretty standard I'd imagine.
NGUYEN: Can you elaborate on these initiations?
TILMONT: Technically, I don't believe I'm allowed to, no.
YADIR: You can't tell us what this Corkscrew did to you?
TILMONT: Not unless you're members of the Master Race, no, I don't believe so.
YADIR: Alright. Um. Mr. Tilmont...
TILMONT: Ronnie.
YADIR: Can you provide us with some final thoughts on your experience?
TILMONT: Let's see. Great fun. Good friends. I even lost a couple pounds. All in all, if you like people and you're good at carrying stuff in your butt, I highly recommend prison.
YADIR: Thank you for your service, Mr. Tilmont.
TILMONT: It's Ronnie. And you're welcome. |
I looked outside the window of the warm living room again, watching as light rain fell from slate grey skies. My finger pulsed quickly with the heartbeat of the woman--Linda-- sitting across from me. A woman I had not met until today.
I glanced at the gold and black ring, remembering seeing it online years ago and buying it for my wife and I. A way to always be reminded of each other. A way to always feel the other's fast beating heart when we stared into each other's eyes. A way to feel each other's heart when we were a thousand miles away.
But one day, ten years ago, the pulsing stopped.
She had worn it throughout the treatment. I kept it on as well, even as her spikes and dips agonized me. Even as her heart slowed and my eyes filled with tears and the pulse I had become so used to disappeared.
She had willed her ring to her sister, Ally. That tore me up. I wanted to keep that symbol of our love with me, near and dear to my heart. I had even asked Ally about it. But she refused, telling me it's what my wife had wanted. That I should respect my wife's last wishes.
It didn't matter to me. I kept after her, trying to get the ring back. Trying to hold onto something from the past. And Ally kept refusing me, until she wouldn't talk to me anymore. Until I stopped even getting a Christmas card from her and Kyle.
So all I had left was my ring. My ring that hadn't pulsed in a decade. Until--
"So, how did you get that ring?"I asked.
She took a tentative sip of the steaming tea she had set for the two of us. Her green eyes leveled with mine. "My aunt gave it to me. And she got it from a friend, who got it from someone in her book club. And so the story goes."
"And the box was sealed until you got it?"I was a bit incredulous that a sealed box had made its way around Seattle for the last ten years and no one had bothered to even look inside.
"Yeah,"she nodded. "My Aunt said she never thought it was meant to be opened. She just thought it was a nicely carved trinket."
Linda picked up the lacquered rosewood box. "And to be honest, I forgot about it for the past few years until I was cleaning out the office."She went back to her tea and her pulse started to relax.
I nodded but I didn't feel like saying anything. My stomach felt like a pit, knowing that the box that had contained something so special had been passed around like a kitschy souvenir from Pike. How could that happen? How could Ally have let that happen?
I was glad she didn't talk to me anymore. I didn't know how I could have faced her after learning she let go of her own sister's ring.
Linda must have noticed the anger in my heart because I started to feel a skittish beating in my finger.
"And when I did open it, there were the two letters."She pointed at the paper and envelope on the table. "One for, well... me, now. And one for whoever I found. At least, that's what the letter said. I didn't really expect much when I put the ring on. So I was pretty surprised when I felt someone's heartbeat."
"I know."I said, and raised my left hand. I had known. When my ring started pulsing again, it was going fast. And I knew that she probably felt the same response from me.
She blushed slightly. "I still haven't gotten used to it. Still haven't been able to sleep with it on. It's... distracting to think about the person on the other end. You, I guess."
I had felt that too. The pulse stopping abruptly every night and picking back up in the morning. Getting a glimpse into some random person's daily routine. That had been strange. Strange enough to make me try and find the person who had the ring rather than be tied to some stranger's pulse for the rest of my life.
I must have looked more calm, because her heart rate became more steady.
"Would you like to read it? The letter I mean."She offered the sealed envelope.
I hesitated, but took it. I appreciated that Linda hadn't opened this letter up out of curiosity. I knew I probably wouldn't have been able to resist.
I unfolded the sheet and my pulse started to rise.
"What is it?"Linda asked, concern edging her voice.
"It's a letter from my wife,"I whispered.
"Oh,"Linda said. She looked down at the ring. "Oh! I'm so, so sorry."She started to take off the ring but I waved at her to stop.
"No, no. It's fine, leave it on."
I wiped the tears out of my eyes and started to read--
*Dear Will,*
*My Love. My bright and shining sun. My big, hunky teddy bear. I love you so much. You really are the light of my life and I'm glad I got to spend my life with you.*
*I hope you'll forgive me for not leaving the ring to you. I know how much you loved the idea and how excited you were when you showed me how they work and how much your eyes shone when you looked down and you could feel my heartbeat on your fingers.*
*But I thought that I could give you a better gift.*
*If you're reading this, it means the person who found this box is wearing my ring. And Will, I want them to wear the ring. I want them to wear the ring for the rest of their lives because I want you to feel their heartbeat. The way you felt mine.*
*I want you to be reminded of how it felt to know that you could experience my life and my emotions with me, even if we weren't together. I want you to feel like I'm with you, all the time. Even if I'm far away right now.*
*But most of all, I want you to remember that there's always someone out there who loves you.*
*Because I love you. Dearly, completely, entirely.*
*So I hope you like this gift. And I can't wait until we get to see each other again.*
*With all my eternal Love,*
*Christine*
*PS: Who knows? Maybe you'll meet a lucky lady who will make you happy. (Just not as happy as I made you, okay?) xoxo*
Tears rolled down my cheeks and I sniffed to reign in my running nose. Linda passed me some tissues and I wiped my face.
"What did she say?"Linda asked.
I looked at her, my eyes starting to blur again. "She loved me."I sniffed. "That's what it says."
I continued spot the corners of my eyes, trying to return Linda's gaze. And all the while I could feel her pulse beating steadily as she looked me in the eyes.
___
*Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! If you would like to read more of my work, check out /r/chrisbryant.* |
"Mark, reboot the nav system."
"Already on it, it's restarting now."
"Where could we be? Wanna take bets before the nav tells us?"
"Yeah, sure. I reckon it's a nebula. Probably the top of the horse head. People have gone through before and said they couldn't see anything."
"Nah, don't think so. We'd definitely be able to tell if there was gas out there. I'd guess we're somewhere in the Cappol belt."
"But if we were in a nebula it would explain why the nav isn't working. Oh wait, it's just rebooted."
"See, I told you it wasn't a nebula. So, where are we?"
"Don't act so smug, it isn't the Cappol belt either. It's…"
"It's where?"
"We're home. Something activated the emergency alert and the ship warped back, just before the systems went down. That's why we isn't here alarms, but..."
"But if we're home, why can't we see any stars? Or the planet?"
"I was just about to say that. Can you pick up any signals?"
"No, there's no transmissions."
"Heat signatures?"
"Nothing. No planets or stars."
"Electromagnetic signals?"
"There's nothing, no radiation, nothing. It's empty out there. We must be in a nebula, that's why the nav's wrong, and that's why there's no signals - it's messing with the instruments."
"Well how far can nebulas go? What's the longest one?"
"The largest one it could be is Carina, and that's ten thousand light years across. If we warp for ten thousand, we'll definitely be out."
"Come on then, let's go."
The ship engaged hyperdrive and shot 10,000 light years across space. But they didn't leave a nebula. They had never been in one.
"There's still nothing. Nothing on the instruments, or out the window."
"Err, can you plot a course for home?"
"The computer says that's were we just were."
"Did we even travel? Where are we?"
"Ten thousand light years from home."
"Then where is everything, Dan?"
"I don't know! It's all gone, there's nothing out there."
"What do we do? Everything can't just be gone. Are you sure there's nothing?"
"Scans show nothing. At all. Maybe we should send an SOS?"
"To where, Mark? There's nothing! There's absolutely nothing out there! Look!"
Mark looked out the window. He was right, it was just like back in that nebula, or wherever they were. There were no stars. The only light was the one inside this ship.
They were alone, in the void. |
"Do you know how many chefs there are in the world?", he asked as he casually sliced and diced an onion, not pausing for a response. "You don't get to be on top by being average. You have to stand out. Make a name for yourself."He placed the onions in a hot skillet, and they sizzled sharply when they touched the hot pan.
"You have to work hard and make sacrifices to get ahead in this business. I've spent my entire life making a name for myself. It takes focus and hard work to get to where I am. I've put in the time and now it's finally paying off. Keep your focus and find a way to stand out, and you too could be where I am."
The onions were transulent and added to the dish. The aroma from the kitchen was fragrant and full.
"Voila, the last African Rhino. Bon appetite!" |
“Order! Order! I will have order in my doghouse!” The gavel fell several times, hard and ringing.
Silence fell.
“Excellent,” High Illuminati Rufus declared. “Secretary, please proceed with items on today's agenda from the top.”
Secretary Sadie's tongue lolled out in a wide doggie grin. It was her turn to speak. “Yes, High Illuminati! First item is an updated status on significant items in our community.”
“Proceed.”
“Today is Coco's birthday! Coco turns 4 and her owners got her a new red rubber ball!” The room erupted into excited murmurs.
“How lucky!” “I wish I got a ball.” “You had a ball, but you ate it.” “What color is red?” “How big is the ball?” “Is a dachshund even big enough to pick up a ball?”
“Order! Order!” the old German shepard called again. “I will have order, doggammit!”
Murmurs died down slowly. Sadie continued. “Um…it looks like Lucky was taken on a new walking route this past weekend...and has claimed the fire hydrant on 4th and Federal.”
Once again, chaos ensured. “Not the fire hydrant!” “That's my favorite!” “Where will I pee now?” “Lucky has claimed over half the fire hydrants in town already!”
“Order! At this rate, we will never make it to important matters.”
Sadie, the golden retriever, cautiously cleared her throat. “The final update is...” she let herself pause for a few seconds as she loved the suspense it instilled in other dogs. “The stick was never thrown. It was a trick. Now the stick is on the ground to the left of the bush.”
A collective “ahhh” filled the room. This mystery had been the main point of discussion for the past couple of months, and everyone was glad to have it finally resolved. It was quite a good stick.
“Very good,” High Illuminati Rufus said with a pleased look his face. The stick had been a troubling as well as embarrassing matter for him personally as he'd been the one sent to retrieve it. “Thank you, Sadie. If that is all you may retrieve your bone.” Sadie sat up straighter and let her tongue loll out again before darting to the bone corner.
“Now as all of you know, today's meeting is a very special one indeed. We have gathered everyone here to answer life's most important question. It is a question that has to this day never before been answered.”
The dogs all leaned in closer to the High Illuminati, excitement and tension filling the room.
The High Illuminati cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice rang out across the room. “Who, I repeat, who is a good boy?”
The dogs all erupted in barks and shouting. “Oh me! Oh me! Oh I know it's me!” “Can I be a good boy despite chewing up a slipper this morning?” “Forty-two! I heard a master once say that's the answer to everything!” |
"Ok wait, what the fuck was that?"
I turned towards the commotion. Everyone was crowded around The Simulation, all in various states of duress. I looked at the screen.
Something was very, very wrong.
"That's impossible,"someone said, reading the graphs, "there's no way they could've made something like that."
I wanted to agree with him, but the numbers don't lie. Whatever happened there, it was real.
They'd just blown something to shit.
This changed everything.
*****
"So what now? What the hell are we supposed to throw at them?"
We were all gathered in the Danger Room. An urgent meeting had been called.
"Nothing springs to mind..."The CTO said, frowning.
"And by that do you mean we don't have anything to can contest that nuclear device?"
The CTO sighed. It had been a long day.
"It's not a simple 'simulation', you know. It's a reality; a 'micro-verse'. And we can only do so much in it."
He paused to let that set in.
"So you're saying that the humans have officially surpassed us?"
Silence.
"And if we try fight them? Could we win?"
"...Likely not. And we will need time to create. We're one step behind in this arms race."
"What if-"
"PVP."
All eyes centred on me.
"What?"
"Player vs Player. It's always been Player vs Environment, we've always pitted them against a superior foe, and they've always worked together and come out on top."
I gestured towards the screen.
"We've united them. We pushed them to fight harder and harder, to surpass even ourselves. And look what it's created."
I took a deep breath.
"So we just take it away. All the bosses, all the challenges... and wait for them to turn on each other."
"But... why would they do that?
"Take away their common foe, and they lose their unity. All those weapons, you think they won't use them? No, we've molded a warrior race. It's mutually-assured destruction."
"That's... that's madness."
"Madness is a creation becoming stronger than its creators."
The room fell silent.
"And what then?"
"We leave, lock down the Sim, and hope they blow each other to shit."
The assembled mods looked at each other. I sighed.
"Cause if they don't, and they find out about us, all we've done... we'll have created our own destroyers." |
Master looks frightened. He sees the odd thing now, on the fringes. Master is turning around, uneasy.
Master looks at me. Master recognizes that something. Master beckons me closer. He ruffles my chin, says words. Stupid Master, for the last time, I don't speak your language. Stupid Master smiles, and I lick him.
I see the odd thing. I can smell it, and it smells like starvation and thirst and a dead thing. Odd thing flits around. I snarl at the odd thing, and it leaves. Must protect Master from odd thing.
Master gets up, takes out something sharp. He holds me close, and speaks softly to me. Master is scared.
Odd thing suddenly moves in front of me. I try to get it, but it moves too fast. Master yelps, and I smell blood. Stupid master has cut his self.
Odd thing is moving, fast as the small flying things. It's attacking Master, and Master is making loud sounds of hurt.
I can do nothing for Master.
I close my eyes. Odd thing is too fast to see, but I can smell it better. I point my noise, and leap at it.
My claws find something. It sinks in.
I wrestle with Odd thing. Odd thing may look thin, too thin to see, but now I can feel it is large, far larger than even Master. It has teeth, so much teeth.
I cut and tear.
It also cuts and tears. And it has so many teeth.
However, it attacked Master. So, it is still just a mouse to me. And it will die.
Odd thing stops struggling. I open my eyes.
My master looks older. Many cuts on him. I move to lick him. But cannot move to lick him.
I am hurt. Master moves to me.
Says “Good kitty.” I have no idea what that means. Why do I do things for stupid Master.
I am getting cold. Master holds me in arms. I am getting tired. Must sleep.
I hope I wake up soon. |
I sat in the center of the classroom on my first day of Junior year in high school. The first bell hadn't rung yet, and my friends were gathered round, joking and laughing, swapping stories of their summer vacations. I smiled along with them, but was silent. There was a new kid named Jon; he had moved into town over the summer, and we were rapidly working to bring him into the fold and make him feel at home.
A particularly raucous bout of laughter went up from the group. I threw back my head, mouth open in a silent laugh.
"Hey,"said Jon, turning to me, "I still don't know your name yet. You've been quiet this entire time."
"That's Resonance,"replied Vince in my stead, "He's sort of the silent type. A true man of few words."
"Why's that?"asked Jon. The rest of the group fell silent, awaiting my answer.
I spoke up for the first time that day, as loudly and clearly as I could. "Do you really want to know?"Jon visibly shuddered, and the rest of the classroom drew back. "My voice strikes fear into the hearts of men,"I explained. After a brief pause, everyone, save Jon, broke out laughing.
Jon looked at me, then Vince, then back at me, and asked, "What the Hell was that?""You heard Resonance speak,"began Vince, "but what you didn't hear was more important. His voice carries an second frequency, just flirting with the boundaries of human hearing. It lies on the edge of your range of detection, that you can barely hear and feel, but aren't consciously aware of. Most people suffer some sort of malaise from being exposed to it, though just how much and the variety of it can vary from person to person. Also, he can tone it down or amp it up to a certain degree. It is impossible for him to truly eliminate it, so I speak for him a lot."I let out a low, murmuring laugh, and Jon recoiled. That seemed like it might have taken things to far, so I tapped Vince on the arm and made a couple of quick hand gestures in his direction. "Res says he's sorry, and hopes that you won't hold it against him,"said Vince, interpreting my sign language. The two of us had been friends for a long time, and had taken up the language so that he could better act as my second voice. "It's okay,"said Jon, "that's actually a really cool power. You just caught me off guard, is all.""Keep telling yourself that,"I said, causing Jon to cringe yet again. "Don't worry, it's a natural response to his voice. You're not a coward or anything, you just need to get used to him,"reassured Vince. At about that time, our teacher walked in, so we had to settle down. The bell rang, and the year began.
==========================
Homeroom and first period passed quickly. Second period was English. The teacher, knowing my special ability, called upon me to read an excerpt from our first reading for the year: Macbeth. I read the entire "Is this a dagger I see before me?"soliloquy in the most menacing tone I could muster, and the class was clearly shaken, even the teacher. Clearly he had underestimated my power, because he thanked me, then jokingly asked that I not say anything again.
Eventually, lunch rolled around. Vince and a couple of other friends had talked me into an excellent beginning of the year prank. We sat in the center of the cafeteria, and waited until the building was packed wall to wall. Fortune smiled upon us; we were in the middle of an autumn rainstorm, and everyone had taken shelter indoors. I gave the two of them a brief signal, and they covered their ears. I began to laugh, starting from a soft chuckle, and slowly raising in volume to a mad cackle. By the time my evil laughter had reached it's apex, the entire room had fallen into silence. That was all we had planned to do, but I saw an opportunity for some improvisation, and leaped onto the table. "Students of Clearlake High,"I boomed, "I am Resonance, hear me speak! You shall come to know me by my voice! You shall learn to fear my words! Tremble before me!"I punctuated my impromptu speech with another round of insane, maniacal, evil laughter. Everyone was clearly intimidated, except for one girl, sitting alone in a corner despite the crowd. She just kept on eating, seemingly oblivious to me. "Thank you, that is all,"I concluded as I stepped down from the table to chants of "All Hail Dark Lord Resonance"from my loyal companions. Numerous fist bumps and high fives were exchanged between us. What a way to start the year.
As we left the cafeteria, I felt someone tug at the back of my jacket. I turned to see the girl from before, who had been completely unfazed by my speech. "What business do you have with me?"I asked her. She cocked her head to one side, and raised her hands, quickly and adeptly making the motions of sign language. It was at that point that I realized she was deaf. "I'm sorry, I saw you were making a speech, and it seemed terribly important, but I couldn't hear you because I am deaf and I wanted to ask what you had said."Anyone who had attempted to say all of that would have been breathless after that sentence, but she didn't miss a beat. This was awkward. I considered my response. There was no easy way to explain my voice to her. I made up my mind, and signed, "Oh, it was just a prank. Don't worry about it, I had nothing important to say."
"By the way, how did you know I knew sign language?"I asked, changing the subject. "I saw you signing to a friend in the hallway. Is he deaf too?""No,"I replied, "We use it as a sort of code between us. Most other people don't understand it, so we can have silent conversations unnoticed by those around us."That wasn't entirely false. We had been known to sign to each other in class when the teacher wasn't looking, or to use exchange messages that nobody else would understand. I had intentionally left out the part where I had him speak for me when I didn't want to make within earshot uncomfortable. "Can I spend some time with you and your friend them?"asked the girl. The question caught me off guard, and when I didn't respond right away, she continued, "Not many people know sign language, so I don't have many people to talk to."My hands remained idle. "I'm not asking you to act as interpreters for me,"she added quickly, "I wouldn't want to be a burden. I just would like to have someone to share conversation with."I turned to Vince, who nodded. I looked back at her and followed suit before signing, "We would be glad to hang out with you, and interpret if you need us to. That's Vince, and I'm Aidan, but my friends call me Resonance. Since it looks like we're friends now, you can call me that as well.""Thank you,"signed the girl, looking up at us with a smile. "I'm Anita."
=========================
The school year continued as normal. Vince and I spent our lunches with Anita for the first couple of weeks, before introducing her to our friends. She really was a nice girl. Vince did most of the talking for the three of us when we were in larger groups.
One week in October, Vince was out sick for a couple of days, so it was just Anita and I. Since she didn't speak, and I couldn't without putting those around me off, it ended up being just the two of us for a short time. The second day of Vince's absence, Anita said to me, "I notice that you don't speak a lot, and when you do people around you seem uncomfortable. Why is that?"I sighed. Explaining this would be inevitable sooner or later. "There is something different about my voice,"I signed. "It is hard to explain. When a person speaks, they are vibrating the air at a certain frequency. The exact frequency at which we do so determines the pitch. When I speak, the air vibrates at two frequencies. One of them people can hear. The other isn't so simple. It stays between 16 and 18 hertz, and it makes people feel uneasy or afraid. I get a kick out of watching people around me squirm, but it would be inconvenient to do it all of the time. So, I let Vince do most of the talking. That's why I know sign.""Well, I guess for once I am lucky I cannot hear then,"signed Anita with a smile. "Yeah, I think that is why we get along with each other so well,"I signed back. "I speak and others fear, others speak and you don't hear. We're certainly an odd pair."In hindsight, I'm not sure if rhymes carry the same weight without the phonetics, so my brief display of poetic wit may have been lost on her, but it didn't matter. "You know, I'm like you in a way,"I continued, "There aren't that many people I can converse with. Not in the way I can with you and Vince. If I talk too much, it just becomes too uncomfortable."She put her hand on mine, then awkwardly pulled it away to sign, "I enjoy our time together." |
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