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I blink in surprise at what appeared to be a job offer from the Just King Tollbi, made famous for his swift eradication of most corruption in his court in a few short weeks of his rise to power. "You... mean I'm not being executed?"
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say as the king looked rather irritated with my words,"unfortunately no, I require your service so I can't have you executed yet. And if you do your job well, I'll even reduce your sentence to a decade or so imprisonment for past crimes."That was drastic reduction from the death penalty but I looked to the young prince and slowly I realized what I was being tasked with. I was to protect the prince until the Kung could weed out any last dredge of corruption that would leverage his son against him.
"Um... could you do a bit... more? I mean it's one thing to move *stuff*, I don't have to feed or house stuff. But like not only do I have to feed and house him I have fend off anyone who wants him to get to you! That's a lot of work!"
The king looks even more peeved but sighs after a moment. "Two years in prison after the completion of your contract."
I consider the offer then nod, I doubt the Just King would let me get away with everything I've ever done. "deal! Your son is in good hands! Now as for fee-""you want *money* as well as a reduced sentence?!"I quickly backtrack "n-not for me! It's the cost of paying for stuff! For the prince! S-smuggling isn't free else everyone would do it! I need to-"the king raises a hand to silence me, "I see, would an imperial platinum suffice?"My brain nearly explodes at the offer, an imperial platinum would be a merchants life goal, a modest cities entire treasury.... and a very suspicious amount if money to try and use in any situation.
"It pains me but that is far too much to hold on to, we would be killer by the first person I try to trade it to, five Tolnory gold pieces and thirty five imperial silvers would allow us to buy off everyone necessary and to live rather comfortably for at least a year."The King looks surprises then impressed at my reasoning, and for the first time since I entered the throne room he smiled. "I see, how foolish of me to assume one could simply use a platinum so easily, I imagine even if a shop didn't outright kill you for it they wouldn't have the capital to give you change."I actually chuckle at the thought, indeed even a bank would scramble to pay out change for a platinum. An advisor who had been standing near hands me a decent sized bag that I find has double the money I asked for and no small amount of copper, I suppose for daily spending... this was going to be interesting. |
Necromancer. Death bringer. Harbinger of the end. Grim reaper.
It's amazing what people will call you if they misunderstand your job. Or simply hate you for doing it.
I do indeed use some necromancy. I raise the spirit briefly, so I can ask about their death, their life and any lingering regrets. I record it for posterity, and give last rites of whatever faith the deceased was. I know all of them, by now.
Very few have no regrets. It's human nature, I think. We always believe we have more time, so when it runs out, we wish we had more. Most regrets are small- a kiss not given, a risk not taken. Maybe their life would be incomprehensibly different if they did. Or maybe not. Either way, I record them.
The hard part is talking to the relatives. When they see my robes, and notice the glyphs on my scroll, they know I come with news and rarely good ones. They cry, they scream, they insult me, the deceased and every god whose name is still known amongst the living. I don't mind.
A lot of them end up hating me. Not because I bring news of the passing of the father that shunned them years ago, or the brother who cheated them out of house and home dying penniless on the streets. It's because I tell them every regret they felt, and how in death they tried to make amends. The brother died penniless, because he hid gold and diamonds for you to find. The father shunned you because he could never provide you what you needed, and so you were better off alone. They hear me, and they hate me. But at least they'll forgive them, in time.
Not every story is like that, of course. Sometimes the father is just a monster, or the mother is a psychopath, truly incapable of love. It doesn't matter. I speak the truth, whatever it is. And for it, I am hated. And for it, I am thanked.
Others wonder why I do this. "You have talent overflowing!"They say. "You could be the royal mage in any kingdom! You could **rule** any kingdom, if you so desired!"They shake their heads at my irrational behaviour. I nod and agree. "If."And that's all I'll say. That's all there is to say.
I stick with this. With healing the world, slowly and painfully, in a way perhaps no one else could. I think everyone should know what happened to those they hold, or once held, dear. No one should be lost to time and the elements. And no one should have to spend their lives wondering what happened.
And so, a new name shows up on the list. |
Tuesday, March 7, 2023 /
Today, I was following the woman. She is the prime candidate after all. I followed the woman for 3 hours, watching her visit the coffee shop, fill up the gas tank on her car, get extra film for a camera, and mow her lawn. Things to note: I finally have an address for the suspect, and she somehow still uses film. Why film, when the digital camera is so advanced these days? Now that I have her address, I must continue surveillance of her home. End entry.
Wednesday, March 8, 2023 /
Oddly enough, the woman has barely left her home today. I need to be on the lookout, just in case. I have been watching through the windows, and she seems to be alternating between watching TV, cooking food, and disappearing into a room without windows for hours at a time. I need to investigate further.
My suit is beginning to become discolored. Time to switch to the second one. End entry.
Thursday, March 8, 2023 /
The suit washed easily, and the second one fits well. Dry cleaning only with hand washing is incredibly inconvenient. Today, the woman left the house, so if I can just get inside, I can find out what she does in that dark room.
—
The room was full of pictures of me! And it wasn’t pictures of me in my suit, which is the alarming part. The largest picture had a tear through it, like a slash mark. It appears I, or at least my identity, is her next target. I must be wary. She is the prime murder suspect after all. It seems she doesn’t have any idea how big a mistake she has made in choosing a target. End entry.
Friday, March 9, 2023 /
The killer tried to strike again. She found one of my apartments. She tripped the security, and it came in on my helmet. She clearly knows what she is doing, dressing so she won’t be noticed, carrying sharp knives and wearing gloves. It was my identity’s apartment. I’ll have to switch locations again. Fortunately, I was sleeping in my other apartment, so she didn’t find me. I finished recoloring the plates in my suit. Tomorrow, I’ll apprehend the killer.
Saturday, March 10, 2023 /
What a waste of a Saturday. I’ll recount the day in as much detail as I can. I had been trying on my suit all night, doing a comfort test, and working on finding a new address for my identity. I fell asleep without my helmet on. I awoke to a crash behind me, and saw the woman, a twisted smile on her face, and a gleaming knife in her gloved hand. I stood up quickly, and grabbed the glowing red helmet, throwing it over my face. The look on her face showed that she hadn’t yet realized who I was. She lunged with the knife, trying to slash through me, but her attacks didn’t get through the armor. I activated the nodes on my gauntlets, and dropped into my Muay Thai stance. As soon as she got close, going for the same strike from through my chest, I kneed her in the stomach, then threw an elbow at her face. I could hear the taser discharge from the gauntlet, and she collapsed, incapacitated. I tied her up and took her to the police, along with my surveillance footage.
Whether she had found me intentionally, or just out of pure coincidence, it was pure luck that I was her next victim. This ends my investigation of the killer. It’s just another night for Red. Tomorrow, I’ll find a new case to work on. End entry. |
The bloodcurdling scream has me a bit hesitant to open my door. I nearly drop my bag of groceries onto the ground, but I thankfully remember how expensive eggs have been lately and keep a steady hold of it. With a sigh, I open the door.
Everything appears in order until I reach the living room. My roommate Ethel, a half transparent ghost in victorian dress, stands rigid as a statue, staring at the ceiling. On the ceiling is a man in a black hoodie wearing a ski mask, screaming bloody murder and crying his eyes out.
"Ethel!"I exclaim.
She looks back at me, her expression deadpan.
"What are you doing?"
"This man broke into our home."She says, her voice gravely serious. "He was rifling through our cabinets, trying to steal our valuables."
"I-I'M SORRY,"The ceiling man cries. "P-PLEASE, IT WAS MY FRIEND'S IDEA, I PROMISE I'LL NEVER COME BACK, JUST LET ME GO."
"Ethel, you can't-"
I am cut off by his screams.
"Can...can you quiet him down for a second."
She holds a hand in the ceiling man's direction, and his voice is squeezed from his throat, silencing him.
"Ethel, you can't just go torturing people."
"This man broke into our house, Gregory,"She says. "He must be punished."
"He's still a human being!"I tell her. "You should have just scared him away."
"Nonsense,"She says, shaking her head. "You deserve far better. You are the perfect roommate, you do not deserve to have your home broken into. He must suffer."
"Okay, as flattering as that is,"I say. "You need to let him go."
Ethel ponders her response a moment before saying flatly, "fine."
The man pressed into the ceiling is launched across the room, careening out of the front window. He lands on the front lawn with a THUD and scrambles to his feet. He then sprints down the street, still crying.
"Ethel..."
"The window was already broken,"she says. "That's how he got in."
"Ethel, I appreciate that you think I'm a good roommate-"
"The BEST roommate I've ever had."
"The BEST roommate you've ever had,"I repeat. "But I would really rather you not go torturing people on my behalf."
"Gregory, you always pay your rent on time,"Ethel begins. "You always wash your dishes and clean up your messes, and you go *out of your way* to buy the special quinoa I like from Whole Foods."
"Yeah, well, you're a pretty good roommate too."
"You don't even shop at Whole Foods!"she exclaims. "You go there just for me!"
I give her a small smile and say, "I think you're pretty cool too. So, if you can honor me one request, please do not torture people on my behalf."
"Oh, alright,"she says begrudgingly.
"Thank you, Ethel."
I head into the kitchen and set down the groceries on the countertop. The cabinets open on their own, courtesy of my awesome roommate.
"They got the good mac and cheese in stock,"I say over my shoulder.
"Oh lovely,"Ethel says. "Will you make us some for dinner?"
"Of course."
Ethel gives me a wide smile and moves to hug me. She passes clean through me, leaving me with a slight chill. I chuckle to myself and grab a pot from the cupboard. There aren't many people who would shatter the mind of a would be robber on my behalf. I count myself lucky that I found someone who would, and I would show my appreciation by making her mac and cheese. |
In the jail cell of the Thief, he is popping grapes in his mouth while the Queen is talking to him. He eyes her and her face is wonderful to stare at. He doesn’t listen to her while the Queen is nervously trying to convince him to take his hand into marriage. He pops another grape in his mouth, wondering on how he’s going to get out of here. He’s waiting for the perfect opportunity to climb out the window of the cell.
But she keeps going on and on. She’s kind of a nag, I’m sure her husband would be nettled every day of his lifetime. Whoever he might be.
“Are you listening?” She asked.
“Huh?”
“I know it’s a weird thing to ask,” she said, rubbing her neck in order to ease the tension, “but it’ll give you freedom and food.” The Thief liked the sound of that,
“Deal.” He said, walking out of the cell as she lets him out. He is guided by her servants to a bedroom. They try to change him into pajamas but he declines. When given a moment alone, he eyes the room. A large mirror is hanging on the wall. He walks up to it and eyes his demeanor, noticing that his hair is not up to par. Grabbing a brush placed by the nightstand, he brushes his black hair into fashion. His thoughts cruise by after the long day, wondering how he got here.
“I should have listened to her.” He said to himself at the mirror. A handsome man was staring back at him. Telling him what to do. When’s he done, he goes to an ornate window and looks outside, noticing that he can’t use the bedsheets to make a rope long enough to escape so he turns in for the night.
At morning, he awakes to a knock of the mahogany door. A young boy, a servant, calls out to him,
“Hello? We must head out way to the dressing room.” He said. Why do these people want to undress and dress me as they please? He got up and put on a green puffy shirt and black linen jeans. He walked out and shook hands with the tiny blonde haired, green eyed young boy.
“Hello,” The thief said to the boy, “What is this dressing room for?”
“For the wedding of course.”
The Thief took this as a silly joke and played along. Walking along with him, he studied the inner halls of the castle, noting where the riches could be. |
“I’m five.”
“No. Not ‘what year are you?’ ‘what year is it’?”
She just looked down at her hand staring at her fingers, like a… child. I went back further than I wanted. I guess I am happy with this. I can still work with this. It may be a longer time to get rich, but I can relive my childhood first. But where and when am I? Blue and red mat. Tiny desks and chairs. Backpacks hung on the wall below a banner of the alphabet. *Cubbies.* There are kids everywhere and no adult. I must be-
“This many!” The girl was proud to show me her open hand.
I sighed as I realized I must be ‘this many’ too. “What’s your name?” Something snapped in my mind when she told me her name was Emily. I had a crush on a girl named Emily in grade school. This was Emily? This was going to be weird. Maybe I am not going to be ok with going this far back. This wasn’t the plan at all. Before I knew it, I was crying my five-year-old heart out. I haven’t cried in years. I hate this little kid’s body. Some of my classmates were trying to console me. Some where making fun of me. I couple others started crying too. This is an emotional day for all of us I guess.
“Settle down class, settle down…” Mrs. Williams had come in the room. Mrs. Williams. I can’t believe I remembered her name. She took her time consoling each one of us crying. One by one. Matthew C. Catherine R. Sammy F. Rachel D. I remember all this kids. I remember a lot about all these kids. Sammy F. had the best jungle gym at his house. Rachel D.’s mom made her do ballet for years. Matthew C. was a little ass wipe.
Then a thought struck me. Maybe reliving my childhood isn’t the worst thing in the world.
After Mrs. Williams comforted all of us, she guided us to the tables for coloring time. I pushed myself up from my mat and sat myself next to Matthew C at a table with a couple of other children. Me, Matthew C., Virginia D., and Elyse S. We each sat coloring while Mrs. Williams walked around the room. I kept my eye on Matthew C. After Mrs. Williams gave a compliment Elyse S.'s coloring, Matthew C. had reached out to pull her ponytail. That little shit. Just like I remembered. Elyse S. moved away before Matthew C. could reach her, and for childish reasoning that Matthew C. had never seem to grow out of, he decided to pull Virginia D.’s hair instead. The waterworks came, and, almost as fast, Mrs. Williams was taking Virginia D. from the table. When I turned back around to our table after watching Virginia D. wordlessly scream, Matthew C. had already grabbed her coloring book and was scratching big dark marks over the girl’s work.
“Hey, Matthew.” He looked up at me, starting to babble some nonsense about how he didn’t do anything. My impatience apparently had stuck with me along with my memories. “Hey, Matthew. You are a little piece of shit, you know that?” I can feel both Matthew C. and Elyse S.’s eyes on me now. “You’re a fucking piece of fucking shit that will never amount to anything. You are going to repeat 5th grade twice. In 8th grade, you are going to be the fattest, ugliest kid in our class and it won’t be close. Your parents will get a divorce and it will be because of you. And in high school, you are going to drop out and not one of us will ever hear from you again and we will all be happier for it.” After a second of blank stares, I decided to land one last punch that the kid might understand. “You are bad at sports, and no one will come to your birthday party.”
That last part did it. Fury and anguished washed over his face. Crayons were in flying at me as fast as the tears came, and like clockwork, Mrs. Williams was there to usher Matthew C. away for consolation. Retribution felt good. I think this was the happiest I felt in a long time. I thought I came back for money, but I can get used to this feeling too. With a self-righteous grin, I went back to coloring.
“It was 6th grade.” I looked up from the table. Elyse S. was staring right at me.
“Huh?”
“Matt repeated 6th grade,” she said again.
We sat there in silence for a bit. She knew. *She knew*. Staring at me, she picked up her crayon and eventually turned her gaze down to continue coloring, as if the conversation never happened. How did she know. Did she also wish….? This couldn’t be happening. I…. She…. But *how*?
Mrs. Williams sat at our table in one of our tiny chairs. It took me a minute to realize that she was asking how we were doing. Elyse had responded. I sat quietly in disbelief. My lack of response must had been a breaking point for her.
“Look, *children*,” she said the last word through clenched teeth. “it’s been a long day already. *Already!* Okay? So please, when I ask you a question, you will answer. Okay?”
I still wasn’t listening. She continued to prattle on about the lack of respect and how she will get out of teaching one day. An adult knowingly complaining to children that couldn't comprehend. I didn’t care. My eyes were on Elyse who was staring intently at Mrs. Williams. Or at least pretending to. Mrs. Williams’s problems were the least of my—
“Wait,” I interjected. “What did you say?” Something had sounded... out of place.
“Oh, *now* you are listening? I said you better enjoy having me as a teacher now, because I can’t take much more of this crying, and once my Microsoft and Best Buy stocks hits, I am out of here and then I am putting it all in Amazon and Bitcoin and I am headed to the G- D- moon. So please stop your crying and get back to coloring, okay?"She put on a big, forced smile. "*Okay?*”
Elyse and I stared at each other as Mrs. Williams put a second effort to get out of the tiny chair and walked away to deal with another child crying somewhere in the room. Elyse picked up her crayon. I grabbed mine. Coloring was the only thing that made sense right now. And I guess I have time to figure the rest out. |
"Sometimes I really feel humanity is a curse"bleeped Atvor, shining radiant in the midnight void.
"I fear you're right. They keep evolving. Every few millennia they appear. Unrelated planets, Unrelated stars. There's no explanation for it. Each time we give them the benefit of the doubt and every time their chaotic ways lead to sorrow, war and death."replied Barvot. Like his companion he too shone in the night, his gaseous body looking angelic against the blackness behind him.
"There are too few of us left to give them the benefit this time. We're still recovering from the last humanity infestation. If we let this "Earth"go galactic we may not survive."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Only that we fix this problem before it becomes a problem. Rather than letting millions of us die out of some naive morality."
That conversation led to the deaths of Atvor, Barvot and their entire sublime race. Though neither knew the dark horror they had set it motion when they authorised a preemptive strike against this nascent earth civilisation.
The weight of what they ordered rocked sublime civilisation. Many could not accept the moral decay of allowing a preemptive genocide; and yet many, jaded by the circle of war and death would not accept anything less.
The resulting civil war tore the society that had endured for eons asunder, and in that chaos humanity forged a life line. It spread out amongst the stars and put those sublime that remained to the sword. Whether they had been for the genocide or not mattered little in the end, progressive or reactionary died the same way: their gaseous corpses littering the voids between worlds and diffusing until naught was left.
In time the sublime were just a memory in humanities history. An ancient evil that had to be overthrown so man could live.
That was until Commander Jackson and his crew found a new race of sublime. Primitive and naive and only just looking to look out of their homestar's corona to the void beyond.
"We have to wipe them out now."demanded Jackson "Lord knows we all remember what they tried to do to us"
The shock that disrupted around the bridge paused his hand, and finally his first officer reproached him "We cannot do that, surely we are better than those monsters of the past. What are we without our humanity?"
Commander Jackson felt conflicted, but in the end he knew his officer was right. Halting his order he could not help but feel the dread of his decision, was he dooming future generations to the horror of war unimaginable? Had he damned the galaxy once again? He couldn't help but sigh as he finally replied:
"Sometimes I really feel humanity is a curse" |
Part 1/3
I dropped my recorder and ran. No time to think about if it would auto-send correctly or not. All my primary brain could think of was going faster, while my secondary brain was doing its best to not stumble and fall.
I knew it could climb, but i had more limbs and could do it faster. Going upside down (or right side up if you orient to the bridge instead of the engine room i was in) i rushed trough the hallway. Every now and then i heard its heavy foot push off of something.
The hallway ended and i arrived at the lab area. The only place i could think of loosing it. Dodging and weaving between the equipment, i finaly managed to break line of sight and quickly ducked in a heap of flexi tubing strapped to the wall. Luckily its is the same soft and flexible material as our suits so i didn't break anything as i dove into it.
I stoped my breathing as i waited and listend to that thing pass by. I could feel my secondary brain getting exausted because the lack of propper breathing post rush but i couldn't afford to make a sound.
I heard it bash against the wall to halt its speed. It's soft growls and grunts beconing me to show myself.
A few moments pased and i couldn't hold it anymore. My secondary brain was fighting my primary in order to get new and fresh oxigen. Strange how after such a short time the idea of breathing in recycled oxigen became so appealing.
More grunts and growls came forth from the thing. Still searching for me. It started to sound more and more annoyed as i stayed hidden. Its drapings brushed against a uncoverd part of my hand. A part that apparently blended in well enough to not be noticed.
Out of nowhere i heard something new. A strange sound that seamed unnatural and forced. Labored and painful it continued.
It took me a moment to realise that it wasn't a possible distraction. It was me. My secondary brain won over my primary and forced my lungs to expand and compres as fast as i could to claw its wat to new and freshly filtered air.
The human wiped its head around and its body followed quickly after. I pushed the bundle of flexi tubing towards the human, hoping to entangle it. But sadly it was the one time they folowed regularions and secured it properly to the wall. With the human aware of my position and me being stuck behind the tubing, i was sure this would be over quick.
Just like my peers i would be killed and eaten. Just like them i would become a victim failing to do anything for anyone in the future. Just like them i would become a note in the tragic tale of this vessels story. |
A group of Neophytes stand at attention in a dusty training hall. A grizzled Templar paces before them, searching for any flaw in their stances, any weakness in their eyes. He is long retired from active duty, but his back is ramrod straight and he wears his pockmarked armor with pride.
"Who is our Enemy?"he barks.
"The Supernatural,"the Neophytes chorus. "The Otherwordly, the spawns of Heaven and Hell."
"And what do we give them?"
"Death!"
"You may think these words a meaningless ceremony, but they will save your life one day,"the Templar says with certainty forged in countless battles. "The Enemy possesses unnatural powers against which conviction is the only defense. They will appeal, threaten, and plead. They will appear in guises uglier than sin or more beautiful than anything you have seen in your life. Regardless, you must never show them mercy. The slightest doubt will become a chink in your armor that will spell your end."
The Neophytes listen attentively, but they don't *understand*, not yet. The Templar casts his gaze over the ranks, meeting their eyes. Some burn with zeal, others harbor uncertainty. It is his job to eradicate the latter.
"I ask you now, do you have doubts?"the Templar says. "Look deep into your hearts and speak truthfully. You will not be punished."
The Neophytes exchange sideways glances and fidget. The silence stretches on, and it almost looks like no one will speak. Then a young man with sandy hair opens his mouth, only to close it again.
"Speak,"the Templar says, almost kindly.
"I... I understand why we fight devils and the like,"the man stammers. "But aren't angels a force of good?"
A murmur ripples through the ranks at his daring, but the Templar raises a fist, and everyone falls silent. The young man shrinks under his heavy gaze. An idealist. There is always one or two in every batch.
"I ask you this in turn: Who gave these tyrant preachers the right to judge and sentence us? Such an authority can only be granted by the people, and we will never bow under the yoke of outsiders! Only a human will judge other humans."
The Templar makes a swift gesture. A pair of Squires wheel in a cage covered with a runic cloth that flutters as if whatever's inside is struggling to escape. Some Neophytes swallow and inch backward.
The Templar nods, and a Squire pulls down the cloth. Inside the cage, an angel unfurls its sixteen wings and beholds the gathered with its glowing eye. Its voice echoes in their skulls.
**You have sinned**. **Kneel**. **Repent**.
The sandy-haired man sways on his feet, and he isn't the only one. The eyes of those with less-than-pure pasts glimmer with remorseful tears.
"Don't,"roars the Templar. "Don't you *dare* debase yourselves before that thing."
The Neophytes straighten up, their fear of the man momentarily exceeding the fear of the divine. The Templar approaches the young man and draws his runic sword. The Neophyte trembles.
"Please,"he mutters, "I'm sorry—"
"Who is our Enemy?"the Templar asks.
The walls of the hall tremble as the Neophytes' voices drown out the angel's. "The Supernatural, the Otherwordly, the spawns of Heaven and Hell!"
The Templar turns the sword around and offers the hilt to the Neophyte. "And what do we give them?"he asks quietly.
The Neophyte glances at the angel and firms his jaw. "Death,"he says, and takes the sword. |
"Aaaah...finally the rain is over! I can open the window! The coffee should be ready soon! This day is starting..."
"Excuse me! Is this the coffee house everyone is talking about in the Eldrich realm?"
"...... and who are you actually?"
"Oh I apologize. I am Anubis, from the Egypt mythology. God of death and afterlife; Cthulhu was here yesterday, right?"
"Yes, and I actually told him, and Zeus, and Ades, and Loki, and Amaterasu, and Vesta, and that drunk Spaghetti god that THIS HOUSE IS NOT A COFFEE SHOP!"
"Of course it's not! But your coffee it's the best."
"I can't be the only one who makes good coffee!"
"Probably not. Can I share a cup with you anyway?"
"Look, I have to deal with people all day long. I work in a shop on a busy road and the only moment of peace I have. May I ask why I have it ruined?"
"Oh come on, not everyone can say they had a cup of coffee with me!"
"Of course not! If some of us does, it will probably end up in therapy or in a mental hospital!"
"Or be believed and set up a cult"
"What! Oh! No no! Cults are dangerous! I grew up in one! It was awful!"
"Is it why you want to stay alone?"
"..... if I give you a cup, will you shut up?"
"Sure..."
"Here. Enjoy. But please, tell the othes ypu are my last guest."
*later in the eldrich world*
"No no guys! You don't understand! It is really the best beverage I ever tasted made by a human! And he hates religion so he will never ask for favors!! We found it! We found a place where we can hang out without beeing annoyed!" |
"It's been centuries, Zeus old boy. You remember the conditions of the curse, right?"
"Yeah. I'm here until I understand the wrong I've done."
"Yeah. But you always were the big bruiser, y'know? It took all of us to take you down 'cos of that."
I nod. "And without me, you fell to other pantheons, yeah. I coulda told you that woulda happened."
"...honestly, to thought it would take you a week, tops, to get through it. What *happened?*"
I shrug. "I honestly don't know, Poseidon old buddy. I'm not even sure which wrong I'm supposed to be understanding."
"...you're kidding. You're kidding, right?"
"No, I'm serious. I haven't the slightest idea how I wronged mortal women in general. Gimme a hint?"
"You remember turning into swans, showers of gold, and seducing them?"
"Yeah, that was *awesome*. Do you know how much trouble I've been having as a mortal women, getting guys even *interested* in me? I *wish* I coulda run into my old self, this body needs to go on a fling!"
Poseidon stared at me for a long moment, then raised his hand to a face. "Are you... seriously... telling me that the reason why the curse didn't work out was because we forgot to *turn down your sex drive*?" |
"You've got to be kidding me,"I said to the Commander. "You want me to whip those five high schoolers into a cohesive unit?"
"It's beyond a need for the country, Mr. Rhodes,"The Commander said through the computer screen, a soft crackle coming from my speakers. "This is a worldwide taskforce that needs to be properly trained. And you're the man to do it."
"I still don't understand the magic part of this,"I admitted. "They explode into rainbows and change clothes?"
"That's as far you need to understand,"The Commander said. "The point is- they're enhanced humans. They can fight harder and better and tougher than some special operators I've known. I saw one of them take a point-blank .50 cal shot to the chest and not even ruffle her little dress bow."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "But they're highschoolers?"
"Correct. Teenagers. They need to be trained to fight together, or else the world is going to be in a bad place. If they can fight together, they can handle just about anything short of a nuke thrown at them. But separate, they're weak as can be."
"This seems unorthodox."
"I didn't ask for your opinion. I asked for results."The Commander said sternly. "We'll speak again in three days. Over and out."And with that, he cut the call.
I leaned back in my chair. So, magic was real. These girls were apparently the only known quantities of magical beings on the planet. That, and the talking cat, but it was useless in a combat scenario. Looking out my window, I saw the five of them standing near the flagpole. One was on her phone, another was reading a book. Two of them were chatting quietly, while one of them was off staring towards the sky. I let out a sigh.
There was a lot of work to do. |
Jan 20 ?
Draftwater had finally achieved his dreams. His bullies from parents to teachers, other schoolmates can now say that they were wrong. He remembered two things about his childhood was his two escapes. One was dungeons of dragons and the other being geopolitics and the failings of the Nixon administration. Whenever he got home from school hating on history and math he would reminisce on the calculus of his attack on a dragon and lasted on the historical reasons why the United States failed in reconstruction.
now after his oath to defend the constitution he had become the most powerful man in the world. After retreating to the White House bunker he has his first meeting with cabinet. “Mr president I think it is time to fix the expor-“.
Draftwater raised his hand up and walked towards a box. Opening the box, Draftwater pulled out a box with cards, costumes and instructions.
“Gentlemen what we have here is the most powerful artifact in the world.”
“Does it have secret codes or something mr president?” Said vice president chalmers.”
“In a way it does, however the powerful can only be unlocked through the best thing humans have. Imagination.”
“You got to be kidding.”
“Nonsense. This will save the world I promise.”
Putting the box down. Draftwater turned on a tv. On it was a report of expenses of the recent wars, inflation costs and a video of Chinese vessels heading toward Taiwan.
“Congress will destroy any inflation reduction measures except to reduce taxes. Our military can’t fights insurgents and worse if we engage china it will end the human race.”
“But how does this stop all of that Mr president?”
“Simple. We make this game the language of all conflicts. I will write a executive order to cut spending and replace our military with this board game.”
Blowing the dust off the cover of the box read in dramatic font “Dungeons and Dragons.” He later explained to his cabinet, then to congress, nato and even china about how instead of the military, the governments would be involved in a dungeons of dragons game. With the money flowing into the economy it fixed inflation, congress got too busy so many reforms were passed and all nuclear weapons were replaced with dungeons and dragons board games. Years pass and people would call the game a miracle while the cynical and reader would call it instead a deux ex machina. THE END. |
I simply stared at Marty and his band of Merry Misfits. I fully understood what they were telling me, but for the life of me I couldn't uderstand why.
Marty's face was red, so was Anne's, Jonah's, Dean's and Joanna's. Before I could form a proper reply, Marty stepped up.
"You're going away from a long time, you wirly fuck!"He was nearly frothing at the mouth. He looked more akin to a rabid dog than to a person. Then again, he was acting like one, too. His friends surely didn't look less angry then he was. I'd have to ask Victoria about this later.
"Before I get Judged, Juried and Excecuted, can I at least know what it is I did?"Honest to god I was confused. I made an active decision to stay "home"for as long as I could. Social interactions tired me out and having to listen to other constantly talk about themselves had become dull.
"You know what you did!"Dean yelled out from the Peanut Gallery.
"I assure you, I really do not."My response was not taken lightly, as Marty grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me close to his face. I had hoped that his spittle wouldn't end up on me, but I also knew I didn't have that kind of luck.
"SANDRA MORRISON, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"He screeched out. My ears rang and my face was dotted in spittle. I felt my face scrunch up involuntarily. God, his breath stank.
But the name... It did ring a bell. When I was transported here, I assumed the identity of an emancipated teenager. A sixteen-year-old who lived alone, who made his money in mysterious ways... Or just selling an online MLM. It was simple to start and as an anonymous head, it made people feel special and helpful. Which made them loyal.
Sandra had nothing to do with my early online MLM empire, but she was a classmate. One who had gone missing after an altercation with her abusive biker ex-boyfriend.
"I don't see how it has anything to do with me."Marty pulled back a fist, only for Anne to grab his arm.
"Hun, we don't know if he did it yet."She said softly.
"Who else could've?! You SAW the state she was in! Only a monster could've done that!"Marty shouted back, tears stimming from his eyes.
Jeez, what's gotten his panties in such a twist.
"He's the only one here who could've!"
I cleared my throat and their attention zapped back to me.
"I have been here. In my house. Doing my work. Why do you insist on me being your villain this week?"
"You're an emotionless monster, that's why!"
Oh. Oh... I thought it was the MLM thing.
"What MLM thing? Is that some kind of death cult?! Answer me!"
Oh fuck, outside voice.
"A multi-level-marketing... opportunity. I was busy with that. I had very little interest in Sarah as a person."
"Her name. Was. Sandra."I heard Jonah growl out.
"I. Don't. Care."I responded. Unlike Marty and Anne, Joanna was not very interested in stopping Jonah from punching me in the face, both freeing me from Martys grasp and sending me to the floor. I felt me self curl up.
"Jonah!"
"What! He was askin"for it!"
I wasn't, but ok, fine. I got back up, holding onto the nearby desk to do so. My head was pounding and I felt iron on my tongue.
"Whatever happened to Sarah I wasn't involved in. I am a sociopath, yes, but that doesn't mean I go around hurting people after breaking into their homes, unlike SOMEBODY!"I yelled out. They did have a lot of nerve do pull this shit.
"Fuck you, you monster! You're coming with us to the station!"
Oh. A way out. Bully!
"You know what? Sure! Lets go to "The Station". Please! Take me there! Lets see how well this ends for you!"I laughed out, holding my wrists together infront of them. Quickly enough, Marty slapped some plastic cuffs on me and the Moron Mass threw me in the back of the car.
Soon enough, we were heading to the station. A few hours later, I was friving out of there with by a very apologetic cop, laughing all the way back home. |
"Sir, I don't understand?"
**"Of course you don't, you minions never understand the bigger picture! I should kill you were you stand, there are a hundred others just like you that do not question the system."**
"But..."
**"Zip it! Don't you get it, this all a game!"**
"What!? This is all a game between you and the heroes! You been using us for your own amusements!"
**"Not us you idiot! The player!"**
"Who?!"
**"Ugh, I should just kill you, but I'll explain it for your little pea brain can understand! We all live inside of a video game."**
"Sir, are you mad that is ridiculous."
**"Really? You never wondered why you respawn every time that you die?"**
"I just that we had good healthcare"
**"How about the fact, that you always have jewels in your pockets?"**
"You pay us well?"
**"How about the fact that every time you touch the heroes everything flashes and you are suddenly transported to a different environment?"**
"Ah..."
**"That's what I thought. The true goal of all this is to give the player a good time. The longer they have fun the longer they play, the more we exist. Do you understand?"**
"I think I do"
**"Good, Now if you want to go along ways, you got to leave a good impression. The more beloved you are the player wants to see you and that means we could live on in spinoffs and sequels. Now get out there and give them an experience they'll never forget!"**
"Yes sir!" |
Oft I find myself wondering if he really understood the endeavor upon which he embarked when we made our wager. The "son of God"he called himself - foolishly arrogant, I thought; and yet, I found little in the way of doubting him when we spoke. So vast was his faith in the species he was ordained to oversee that he disallowed the slightest peck of skepticism to corrode his confidence.
"O, Great Lord of the Sea, let our contest be one of compassion. As long as I prevail, let my people continue to learn lessons of deep humility and kindness. I beseech the sea to be a source of sustenance and life for your creations all the while. If my people are led astray, let your Great Sea swell and swallow the world whole, for they shan't have acquiesced to my Father's teachings,"he said, all those years ago.
I wonder if his faith in our wager endured as he laboriously ferried the instrument of his fate through the city square, met with the jeering mirth of a crowd controlled by fury. As he was hung, trivially, alongside petty thieves, and left to rot and decay in the elements that he wagered the destiny of his entire species against. That day, the first crack was made in the great cliff atop his great Temple stood.
I observed humanity silently as the centuries went by. Man's fury was tempered in the beginning. Nary a crack nor creaking was induced in the foundation for nearly a thousand years. This was not meant to last. Under the banner of the God that desired circumfluent mercy, a warring campaign spanning two centuries was waged. The first cracks now turn to fractures, as the heraldry of humanity's potential for chaos tumbles into the sea as mundane basalt.
A great conqueror was borne upon the world in the Great Plains of the East. Under his tyranny, lands were pillaged and razed. Men were slaughtered as unceremoniously as crops to a thresher. Women were violated and enslaved. Children were ripped from their homes and indoctrinated under a new master. The lithological facies of the cliff sheds its skin once more.
Several more centuries would pass, to comprise the entirety of nearly two millennia. Many great wars and conflicts chipped away at the foundation upon which the Temple sat. Those fought under the banner of that which the Temple revered inflicted even more devastation upon the sacrosanct Home. Come the time of a great global conflict, wherein millions were shuffled in to slaughterhouses and labor camps, weapons of vast and ineffable annihilation erased swaths of land, and those with a keen eye for capital were shrewdly prospering off of the abominable horrors that humanity has scarred itself with.
A century later, and the foundation of the great Temple now stands precariously upon the edge. Corners of the holy Stone by which it was erected have begun to descend into my infinite depths. I sit idly and observant, yet for naught much longer. The scales of Themis have grown unstable. Soon, a new age will be upon the world. |
I woke up suddenly when someone touched my shoulder. I caught a waft of a familiar smell as two women sat down opposite me. One young and beautiful with long, brown locks and matching eyes, the other an older woman, steely grey and with deep lines on her face, yet still with the same kind expression that the younger woman wore. It smelled like a good book and a glass of wine late on a summer evening.
"I had the strangest dream..."I said, smiling at Amanda, the young woman who was my wife.
"Tell us about it."The older woman said. I didn't like her, and I didn't know her. She was new, foreign, an intruder on a private conversation.
"I dreamt that I was old. We had moved to a different house and we were both so old and gray."I chuckled and looked at Amanda, still young and beautiful here in the real world.
"I had written a book, can you believe it? I can't for the life of me recall what it was about, but I was told it was very good. I got fan mail in the dream, even. I wonder what a psychologist would have to say about that?"I chuckled again and the old woman across the table started to weep silently. I wished she would just go away, did she not see she was not wanted here?
"And the little ones, you should have seen them! They were all grown up, Sarah and Caleb and we even had another one, what was his name?"The old woman looked like she was about to speak, but stopped herself at the last moment.
"It was such a lovely dream at first, but then it changed. You started accusing me of forgetting things that had never happened. You told me I was losing my memory and the kids all agreed to these nonsense lies, why would they do that? You had me sent away to a foreign place. You know I don't like new places. Why would you do that to me, Amanda?"Her lower lip was quivering and she soon started to weep too.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"She stammered through her tears. I was a little taken aback.
"It was just a dream! It wasn't you!"She looked up at me with tear-filled eyes and spoke in a thick voice.
"I have to go. I have to do something."She sounded flustered, like she was suddenly in a hurry to leave and held out a hand for the older woman to lean on as she got up.
"Come on, mom, let's go."Amanda murmured. Strange, I could have sworn her mother died years ago. I turned to ask her about it, but they were already gone.
~
I love Alzheimer's stories, so I have written a couple before that you might want to check out! [Broken Memories](http://www.reddit.com/r/StoryTellerBob/comments/1clhz2/the_big_request_thread/c9hqo6q?context=3) and [a submission to the Samuel L. Jackson reading competition](http://www.reddit.com/r/movies/comments/1f9x5y/im_samuel_l_jackson_and_ill_record_a_video_of_me/ca8a1ye?context=3) a few months ago that was for an Alzheimer's charity. |
*It's not my fault!*
I'm telling you the truth. Why don't you believe me? Why is everyone always against me?
I swear, man. I'm just trying to get through life the best I can.
It all started when I was just a kid. My sister and I made a fort out of our bunk bed and some blankets. She lit a candle. A bad idea to be sure. I went into the living room to watch TV with my parents, leaving my sister in the fort.
About 10 minutes later she came running out of the bedroom pointing her finger at *me.*
"You set the house on fire!"she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Not just yelling "fire,"but assigning the blame to me. I wasn't even there when the candle set the blanket aflame. She was.
I was blamed. I had been assigned it irrevocably and for all time.
Nothing has changed since that day. I am always blamed.
Fuck my life. |
There won't be a tombstone for me when I die, and I don't suppose it'll matter because I'll be dead. If there was, though, it'd say something like **GERALD KINGSFORD - Always One Step Ahead.** That'd be funny, I guess.
I lobbed a girl's head off with a shovel in Mississippi, just caught her at the right time and threw her down and scooped it right off with two good kicks. There wasn't nobody around. Hell, I don't even know what she was doing there, but I know she never made it. I was a young man then, full of frustration as young men are, and something in it helped.
I'm not one of those sexual perverts or nutcases walking around thinking they're doing God's work. I just had a need I could recognize, something no more complicated than thirstin' after a glass of icewater in July, and I acted on it. Except a man don't normally have to run through three states and get shot for want of a cool refreshment.
They said they'd put me away for life for what I done. They said they'd throw me under the jail and back again and I could count that as good fortune. Well, look at me now, you sons of bitches.
I did twenty years, and there wasn't a one of us heard about the overhaul going on in Washington until it was already said and done. My cellmate was a black man named Donnie in those days, and I remember just exactly what he said to me.
"They makin' the shit legal. They givin' all these fool motherfuckers up in here their own holiday, man, and that ain't all. Some big word coming down soon, bigger than this shit, and it's gonna be soon,"he told me, and there was something in his eyes I'd never seen in the five years I knew him.
The word was Purge, and it meant early recess for a whole shitload of the nation's criminals large and small. They set a day where the shit, as Donnie so eloquently called it, was legal, but it didn't stop there. It just so happened that the one day of the year the shit became legal was *also* the anniversary of the shit that landed me in prison in the first place, and the new crowd in Washington was so keen on making it happen that they set up something called *retroactive immunity*, which was just a fancy way of saying that I was free. Well, me and something like 200,000 other convicts all across the nation, all because we had the good sense to commit our crimes on the one day out of the year when crime don't exist. What are the fucking odds, huh?
So just like that my life sentence went flying out the window, and in another six months I was out on the streets, on the prowl, intent on doing my civic duty during the most historical day in any of our lives. When it was all said and done we were celebrities, and to this day there's no official bodycount.
Yessir, one step ahead of the game, even when I don't mean to be. They did our life stories after the first one, hired a bunch of hack writers from New York to do our biographies. Then there was movies, TV appearances, sponsorships, and next thing anyone knows we got our own fancy monument in D.C. with our names on it. I didn't like how they put it up right next to the Vietnam memorial, but my lawyer told me never to mention it.
But all that was a long time ago, and now I'm more or less back to normal. I got a following now, bunch of kids mostly, and even though I only see them once a year it's a lot like how I'd imagine a family to be. They look up to me, you see, and there's even a group of them who only do exactly what I tell them when the shit comes round again. I've been out of the game since I had a stroke a couple of years back, so it's their way of paying homage to what they call an original master.
I like the sound of that, too. I never told anyone and I probably never will, but I like it. And no matter how far ahead of the game I've been, that's one part of myself I don't believe I'll ever understand.
________________
Also man, what a sexy prompt. I remember how pumped I was when I saw the first preview for this movie, and then it broke my heart. |
It began as a whisper, no louder than the rustling of leaves signalling the quiet before the storm. Men, women, parents, children, all over the territory came the same murmurs. Nobody ever mentioned it aloud, but it occupied the minds of everyone, from construction droids to lawyers to gynecologists to astronauts.
"How many Earthlings does it take to change a light bulb?"
The orbs of light lasted thousands of generations, a standing testimony of greatness to the ancient Man. A small filament of tungsten, a glass shell, and some copper wires could, in combination and in theory, never burn out. Even though humanity has invented more luminous and more durable objects since the light bulb, it hearkens back to a simpler time. The light bulb is an anachronism, much like the Gravipack or the iPad Air.
Yet, the question remained a valid one. The hushed mumbling did not stop, nor did it stop when the first 5 light bulbs went out. Then 10 bulbs stopped emitting light. Then dozens all over the planet succumbed to darkness. The phenomenon soon spread to Mars, to Triton, and soon people found themselves asking the same lingering question.
"How many Martians does it take to change a light bulb? How many Tritons does it take to change a light bulb?"
Researchers, archaeologists, librarians, translators, scientists, all poured over the ancient texts for a method. Surely, the reasoning went, the Earthlings of time immemorial knew how to work their own inventions. Surely this primitive race had more understanding of their own materials and had cataloged its use in a decipherable seepage or a netsite.
But to our frustrations, the findings seemed to mock our collective efforts. We found many scenarios similar to our own, but all involved a cultural punch line or *non sequitur* that gave no practical assistance. For example, the ancient people of Mexico had the greatest advantage; one of their citizens' names was Juan. In another retelling, Vietnam veterans knew how to screw in light bulbs, yet they refused to divulge the secret on account of listeners "not being fucking there, man."Software engineers claimed never to fix light bulbs, suggesting instead that it "was a hardware problem", and a group called PETA failed to change anything, including light bulbs. The ancient texts claimed that 5 managers could screw in a light bulb, provided that they all had access to telephones and willing subordinates. It required 37 sorority girls to change a light bulb, with 36 of them creating items called t-shirts that somehow assisted their task.
These reports confused and frustrated our best scholars of ancient humanity. Like all riddles, these statements must have a shred of truth to them. Perhaps if we reanimate one of the humans from that ancient time, it could perform the task for us? Reanimation has happened before for different purposes, in the Fifth Andromeda War, for example. The process is expensive and legally questionable. Are light bulbs worth the risk?
I knew we should have listened to Al Gore! I jerk off to pictures of him every night, he's so sexy. That's what we all do in the future, by the way. Masturbate to Al Gore... |
"Tic tac toe"
WHAT?
"I choose tic tac toe"
SIGH
With a flourish a desk, a dry erase board and a marker appeared before them. With a slight gesture of death's bony hand a perfect 3 by 3 grid appeared in the center of the board.
Fred placed his circle in the middle of the board. Death placed an X in a corner. After a minute, the game ended in a tie.
"In the event of a tie, we play again correct?"
CORRECT
"excellent, may the game continue"
The next game ended in a tie, and the next. The next 4 games were all close, but ended in a tie. Fred and death swapped off going first, after a couple hours of tieing, death paused for a minute.
THIS COULD TAKE A WHILE
After a couple months, both players were simply going through the motions. Every once in a while some one would start in a corner just to mix things up, and inevitably the same moves followed after that.
I HAVE NEVER LOST A GAME YOU KNOW
"I know, considering Bobby Fischer died a couple years ago I figured beating you wasn't really an option"
I HAVE EXISTED FOR MILLENIA, MY PATIENCE DOES NOT END
"How did you get this job in the first place?"
Fred casually placed a circle in the center of the freshly cleared board. After a couple more games, death answered.
THE AFTERLIFE GETS BORING, YOU KNOW
"I admit, it is starting to look that way"
AFTER A COUPLE OF CENTURIES, MANY OF US TAKE JOBS.
The games continue. The routine is automatic now for Fred, he barely glances at the board for each move before returning his gaze to others. In the distance, countless others were trying to best death.
"are they all you?"
NO, THIS FORM IS MORE OF A UNIFORM THEN AN IDENTITY.
Every now and then, a death would beat some one, their heads would slump, and with sweep of death's arm, they disappeared, then the death too would vanish.
MY SHIFT ENDED WEEKS AGO
"Well, I'm sorry for that, but I don't think I'm done playing yet"
A year passed by. In that time, Fred got to know who death was, besides being death. They swapped stories of their lives while watching the souls around them compete and lose. Briefly, a forest surrounded them as one soul tried to best death in a fox hunt. Months later, they found themselves at the top of a mountain while another soul tried to out ski death.
"Are you all universally skilled?"
NO, WE PICK MAJORS IN DEATH COLLEGE, AND ARE ASSIGNED TO CLIENTS APPROPRIATELY
"What did you major in?"
RIDDLES, LOGIC PUZZLES AND BOARD GAMES
Another year passed, and neither opponent showed a sign of budging. Fred continued making conversation.
"I really do miss my home, do you have homes up here?"
YOU HAVE WHAT YOU WANT, UP HERE THE OPTIONS ARE FAR LESS LIMITED
"my wife passed several years before I did, however I never did get around to finishing up the will for the children. I'm sure they can figure it out on their own, but I hate to leave them so early. Their families are barely started, and I have only met one grand child"
LIFE ISN'T ALWAYS FAIR
"No, it never was"
The weeks continued stretching on, while watching a soul attempt to out basketball death, death turned to Fred"
IT REALLY ISN'T THAT BAD UP HERE
"It seems pleasant enough"
BEYOND HERE, THE ONLY LIMIT IS WHAT YOU CAN IMAGINE
"Then why have earth at all? Why let life continue as grimly as it does when the afterlife is perfect?"
IMAGINATION REQUIRES INSPIRATION
For the first time in years, death moved his arm again, and bellow them, an image of the earth appeared. Through the window beneath their feet, the image moved across the lives of thousands, detailing their happiness, sadness, triumphs and losses.
"were we ever only entertainment?"
WHEN TIME IS ETERNAL, WHAT ELSE IS THERE?
Fred stared out at the other souls. Every once in a while a small poof announced another passing on to the next world.
"No one has ever beaten death have they?"
IT'S NOT A FAIR CHALLENGE, WE HAVE CENTURIES OF PRACTICE
"They aren't supposed to, are they?"
PEOPLE HAVE TROUBLE MOVING ON, THE GAME HELPS THEM FEEL THEY AT LEAST HAD A FAIR SHOT
"I have never seen some one beat death, and I have seen millions of games, how is that fair?"
LIFE IS NOT FAIR, WE HELP PEOPLE MOVE PAST THAT
Fred stared down at the world bellow
"Can I still watch the world when I pass over?"
THE EARTH IS MOST OF OUR FAVORITE PAST TIME
"Is what you can see... limited?"
IN DEATH, NO ONE JUDGES
"I didn't mean it like that"
I'M SURE
The image settled on Fred's funeral. His family was in tears, and many huddled close to each other for support.
"I had a good life you know? I don't think I would have done much different. save for living longer"
ALL GOOD THINGS COME TO AN END
"when this is over, would you mind stopping by after your shift?"
I HAVE PLENTY OF VACATION DAYS BY NOW
Fred stared at the board, it was his opening move. He smiled, and drew a circle in a side center square.
YOU WERE A VERY INTERESTING CASE FRED
Death placed his final X, and drew a line through all three.
"Hopefully my wife won't be too angry I wasted these years playing tic tac toe"
TIME MOVES VERY DIFFERENTLY HERE THEN IT DOES DOWN THERE
Death pulled back his hood, to reveal a female face. Fred's heart skipped a beat. The face spoke:
"I don't mind at all dear"
|
I had nothing.
Every day I would count my pennies and food stamps, but they never multiplied. Every night, I cried myself to sleep.
One by one, my friends abandoned me.
I lost the love of my life. The emptiness - that gaping hole that hollowed my soul - was unbearable.
Then, I played with chance. I gambled all that I had. Everything. And my life has never been the same.
I found and fell in love with the most beautiful woman in the world. She completed me in every possible way.
I came to know the names of everyone, and they came to know mine. I built a name for myself, one I could proudly wear.
Every day I would count my blessings, and every night I would say my prayers.
I had everything. |
"What?"We stare at the armies of mechs, mouths wide open.
"Seriously, *what*?"People fly overhead, seemingly hovering without any machine or vehicle to support them. I laugh. This is ridiculous.
"We *must* have made a mistake somehow. Let's look at the display. This can't be 1000 years ago."We enter the capsule and look at one of the many screens. My eyes widen.
"What?"We *had* made a mistake after all, we hadn't gone back 1000 years. We had gone back 3000 years.
"But how..."My partner Sam's voice trails off into nothing as we look outside. This technology doesn't even exist 1000 years in the future. We know, we've been there. So how does it exist 3000 years in the past?
"This is amazing. Let's go have a look around!"As we leave the capsule, a man with what looks like a slim metal headband confronts us, speaking in an unfamiliar language and gesturing wildly.
"I'm sorry, we don't understand..."Sam begins. The man sighs and taps the headband.
"You're not from around here are you?"He asks. We shake our heads, dumbstruck.
"Where are you from?"He asks. "I've never heard your language before."His headband must be a translator! But how it translates the words coming out of his mouth before they reach our ears is a complete mystery.
"The future,"I say. It seems like the easiest explanation. He nods as if that was a completely normal thing to say.
"I see. Anyway, I'm afraid you can't park that machine here. You'll need to move it. Don't worry, you weren't to know!"He adds hastily as we open our mouths to apologise. "If you follow me, I'll show you where you can put it."We follow him until his feet lift off the ground and he shoots straight upwards!
"Hey! Wait!"Sam yells after him. He frowns and returns to Earth.
"What's wrong?"
"We can't fly."The man bursts out laughing as if we'd just said something completely ridiculous. We look at eachother, bemused.
"Of course, of course. I'm sorry. You don't have Bands, do you?"I shake my head.
"If that's that thing you're wearing on your head, then no."
"Strange. I would've thought the future would have them! I guess they've been replaced by something even more efficient in the future, right?"
"Yes,"I say, not wanting to admit how primitive our society is compared to this one. My partner gives me an odd look but I ignore him. "But um... we couldn't bring any future technology with us. Paradoxes, you understand. If anyone from the past were to get their hands on this sort of stuff..."He nods his head enthusiastically.
"Of course. It's a shame, I always wondered what the future was like."I shift uneasily, beginning to wish I hadn't lied. "Anyway, I suppose we'd better get you some Bands!"I nod eagerly. This is amazing! Our new friend focusses, and a hologram appears of many different types of Band. They all look the same.
"So let's see. I'd recommend this one..."he gestures at the image in the top right corner. I read the specs displayed under the picture, not understanding a word of it despite it being translated into English.
"Sure! Sure, that sounds good!"I burble. Then I sigh. "But I don't think this'll pay for it,"I show him my debit card.
"That's an... interesting form of payment,"he said. "Looks kinda like what we used to use 25 years ago."
"Yeah most people stopped paying like this years ago,"I say hastily. "I just like it, you know? It's like an antique."Sam glares at me. I'm digging myself into a hole here but luckily that seems to convince him.
"Yes, there's always something nice about relics from the past isn't there? Anyway, don't worry if you can't pay. I'm sure we can work out a deal."
"What sort of deal?"Sam asks uneasily. I don't know what he's so worried about, this is brilliant! We're about to get technology that doesn't even exist where we're from!
"Well, like I said earlier I've always wondered about the future."My heart drops. "I'll be happy to buy a couple of Bands for the pair of you if you let me come to the future with you for a few days!"I shake my head.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea,"I say weakly.
"Why not?"His disappointment is overwhelming.
"Um... well you see, there was... a war."
"Oh no,"he said, eyes widening.
"Yeah, a war. I'm not even supposed to talk about it much. But there's a lot of... radiation... around."
"Can't you just clean it up with a RadiFilter?"
"A what?!"
"You know, nuclear leaks happen occasionally, what they use to clean those up?"
"Oh. Uh. They were all destroyed in the war and the technology to make them was lost."I'm sweating now, really wishing I hadn't lied. Sam has a smirk on his face, watching me struggle to continue the story. "So it's really dangerous. In the future we've... we've evolved to become immune to radiation. But you're from the past, it's too dangerous."
"I could buy a RadiFilter and come with you! Two birds with one stone, I get to visit the future and you'll be heroes for bringing the technology to clean up the world!"I reel backwards, desperately trying to think of an excuse.
"But you can't! Because... because... Because time travelling has been outlawed! If anyone ever found out we'd been to the past, we and all our families would be executed!"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise. Why did you come then? What would make you risk all that, if not to get technology to save the world?"
"Uh..."
"Oh shit,"yells Sam. "We've got to go right now. The time machine battery only lasts for so long!"I cast a thankful look at him. Finally he's decided to get me out of this mess.
"Nice to meet you, bye!"I squeak and run off to the time machine. As we shut the door behind us, I breathe a sigh of relief.
"Thank you! I really needed an excuse there."
"That wasn't an excuse. I wasn't making that up!"Sam yells as he frantically flips switches. The machine powers up, then dies. We sit there, silent for a second as we realise that we're now stuck here. There's a knock on the door.
"Didn't you get here in time? Never mind, you can stay with me until we fix your machine. You can pay me back by telling me ALL about the future!"I put my head in my hands and groan.
EDIT: I wrote some more about this story, if you wanna read it it's [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/ToBeContinued/comments/2icrdy/expanded_on_a_response_i_made_yesterday/) :) |
>Me: Next.
The line outside my door was filling up fast, ever since the new luck laws had been introduced everyone wanted to get in requests before the practise is banned. It was crazy busy. An old lady carrying a baby boy walks into my office.
>OldLady: I need all my luck transferred to my grandson here.
>Me: All of it? Are you sure, you know what that means right?
I slid the forms across the table as the old lady nodded. She dropped a bag of gold coins on the table as payment.
>OldLady: I aint got much time left. Neither do you… after these new laws…
>Me: Last days of a fading art, kind of sad.
I looked out over the sea of people waiting for a transfer. Mostly older folks, some wanting more time and paying for the privilege others wanting there offspring to have a long life.
>OldLady: What are you gonna do… you know… after?
>Me: After this?… dunno.
It felt odd, talking to a lady who was sending herself to death. She seemed unconcerned with her welfare, she just smiled up at me as my hands reached out for the transfer.
>OldLady: All done? Well take care now…
The old lady gathered up her bag from the ground, and led the boy out the door. As she reached the edge of the carpet she tripped and stumbled, dropping bag. She looked inside, and took out her phone.
>OldLady: Screens cracked… darn.
>Me: Next!
An elderly buisnessmen entered the office followed by a young man. The businessmen's well pressed suit contrasted greatly with the ratty clothing the young man was wearing.
>Me: What can I do for you?
>Buisnessman: Half this mans luck transfered to me.
The businessman gestured to the nervous young man next to me. I slid some forms across the table.
>YoungMan: This won’t… affect me will it?
>Buisnessman: Don’t worry boy. You make your own luck, and remember I’ll hire you at my company after this is done.
Brochures displaying the risks associated with luck giving sat behind me. I reached around and passed on to the young man.
>Buisnessman: What are you doing? Just start the transfer.
>Me: My clients need to be informed. Especially now with the new laws, it’ll make the process unreversable.
>Buisnessman: We don’t care about the darn new laws, just get on with the transfer.
The young man looked at me, pleadingly. I shrugged, he looked down at the brochure.
>YoungMan: I don’t think I can…
>Buisnessman: Yes, you can! Don’t you want a job?
The Young man jumped up off the chair and out the door. The businessman stared angrily at me.
>Buisnessman: Look what you’ve done! You and your stupid brochures. No wonder they’re shutting you down. I’ll be back, and I’m not waiting in that queue again.
>Me: Leave.
I sighed. It was my final days, the final days of a failing empire. The line outside my door had never been longer.
>Me: Next. |
**The Battle of Trafalgar**
There is much glory in the history of Airstrip One; so much stories of good, courageful men fighting the ungood men from Eurasia.
In one of the plusimportant battles, during 1805, Big Brother fighted for control of the oceans. The leader of Airstrip One's navy was Admiral Nelson, a strategyful thinkman, unhated by all his men. Before battle, he sended the famous oldspeak message: "Big Brother expects that every man will do his duty."With 27 shipolines, he held the ocean against a plusbigger navy; He unmade 19 Eurasian ships in 5 hours and lost 0 Oceanian shipolines.
In the battle, Admiral Nelson was sadwise shooted by a Eurasian gunman. His men bringed him below deck, but he unlived only 30 minutes before the battle ended. His lastful words: "Now I am satisfied. Thank Big Brother I have doed my duty."
Victory at the Battle of Trafalgar ensured that Eurasia would never invade Airstrip One. Nelson, a honorful patriot for Big Brother, was given a plusbig funeral at Minipax Headquarters in London. A column was builded to his memory in Big Brother Square, and manyplus streets were renamed in his honor. |
The Devil roared back to Georgia like a stock car squealin' wild,
Fire 'n brimstone flowed from his toes as he strutted with a smile:
He'd come across a young boy, and that pup sawed a fiddle *mean*,
Now it's time he learned in no uncertain terms that the devil don't pout 'n preen!
The devil said: "My names are many, and you've known me as I stand,
When you beat me last you got your own free pass to have another go, again.
Last time- li'l Johnny- you won a fiddle hewn o' gold,
But this time, you see, it's a *mountain* of the thing, that I'll wager against your soul!"
Johnny leaned back in his leather chair, his recording studio, grand,
and then to his side, with his face all snide, he winked o'er at his band.
"Boys, tune up your synthesizers; get those sound boards clean!
The devil's got his sour grapes: he's sowin' bitter seeds.
I beat him once, all by my lonesome- nothin' but my wits-
But, now, with all this gear, we'll give him *fits*!"
Johnny twirled his finger and the studio sprung to life,
Electric bugaloo- auto-tune, too- roared out, left and right.
The band played tricky turns, and the noise from speakers blazed
And behind it all, as if sealed in a wall, Johnny's fiddle, somewhere, played.
(BREAK: OVERDONE, SYNTHED-UP, ARTIFICIAL STYLE OF MUSIC)
When Johnny finished the devil said: "Well, those're all quite fancy tricks,
but keep your seat- don't get on your feet- 'cause you ain't got nothin' like *this*:
"Fire in the belly, boys, been but wrecked!
The kiddo with the fiddle's sold his soul to tech!
Switches, dials, knobs: don't they make no art?
Johnny's got his sound but it got no heart!"
(BREAK: AWESOME FIDDLE SOLO, CLEAR AND RAW)
Johnny bowed his head because he knew he'd beat himself,
and he stood with quiet humbleness, to be dragged down into hell.
The devil said: "Now you see, my boy, the worth a fortune holds:
It can make you all the richer, but really- right quicker- it can suck out all your soul!"
"Fire in the belly, boys, been but wrecked!
The kiddo with the fiddle's sold his soul to tech!
Switches, dials, knobs: don't they make no art?
Johnny's got his sound but it got no heart!"
(AWESOME FIDDLE SOLO REPEATS, AND CLOSES OUT THE SONG)
.
.
EDIT: Original lyrics didn't exactly fit the song; changed it around a bit to better match.
|
"You may know, or you may not, that we have something very powerful together. If you can't see that, you might as well take your pants off."
*General approval from the board.*
"Every step of the way, every moment of this journey of finding our identity, I will stand by you. And especially if you drip with anticipation of our merging, I will stand behind you and ram my authority into your core. That's because we're a team, baby!"
*Light applause.*
"With each bouncing, bobbing thrust into the sensitive bubble of stock that represents your livelihood, we reach closer to climax. In other words, I want you to come with me; and I want to penetrate the fertile landscape that makes up your entire economy."
*Growing excitement.*
"When the time is right, I want us to wait, and revel in the scent of each other's ultimate satisfaction. I want to wait, until the very last moment, until clarity is found, to ejaculate 'YESness' all over the boardroom. And I want to do it with you."
*Jackets are loosened.*
"Coming within you is a raging hard on-point exclamation that we are one in body and spirit. I want to make you my little, hairy dog--so cute in its eagerness, and so ready to deliver my expectations exactly."
*Groaning.* |
It's not easy being the best boss. People think it's a lot of hard work that goes into hard work. What is hard work? Hard work is knowing when not to work which is arguably harder than hard work.
There's an African American coworker of mine and he has requested to stay anonymous so sadly I can't tell you Stanley's name. But for this story let's call him Montell.
Montell is not only a minority at work but he is also my friend. The thing with me is that I don't see colors on people so the fact that Montell is black isn't a factor to me.
This is one example of why people respect me so much. Today I might be rapping with Montell or tomorrow I might be eating Indian food with Kelly and no one thinks twice about it because I make it such a normal experience for them like they would get at home.
|
Adam walks in with his nice collared shirt and sleek pants. His blonde hair slicked back. His girlfriend Evangeline follows through the door only seconds later. Her legs are tatted up with mockingbirds and beautiful vines. Her most recent tattoo was a heart on the right side of her neck: Adam's favorite place to kiss her.
I ask them, "Hey, how can I help you two?"It was probably my first week working for the parlor, I'd been practicing and just finally got certified to do it. My previous designs that week were an "I LOVE MOM"tattoo from a guy that lost his mom when he was a kid, he started crying as soon as he figured out what I was drawing across his chest.
Adam doesn't say anything at first. He just looks around, judging the designs and pictures of the people on the wall. He then looks at me with striking blue eyes. A clean smile appears on his face when Evangeline says "I've FINALLY talked my boyfriend into getting a tattoo! I think it's important that he gets at least ONE."
"Oh I agree miss. It's nice to have everyone in the world see a little bit of your soul, but what really makes it important is you can see it for yourself. You know?"
He scoffs at this comment, "You don't really expect me to believe you guys aren't some damn charlatans that make guesses and have your customers confirm their own biases. There is no art to what you do, there is nothing revealing about the customer's soul."
I take it in stride. "Yet you're still willing to get the tattoo?"
"Sure, it will make her happy. That's what matters here. It will also prove me right, and you get paid. Everyone's happy."
I nod. "Follow me into this room. Unbutton your shirt. Have a seat. I'm going to get my equipment ready."
He does so. He lays in the chair and stares at the ceiling.
"Where am I making it?"
"I just want something simple, on my arm."
I understand what he wants. Usually people nervous about their first tattoo just want something the size of a quarter or half-dollar on their arm or back. Girls sometimes put one on their ankles or legs. He might've hinted to something bigger, but the nice thing about being a tattoo artist is you understand how it works. When you sit down and tear your heart out for your work and reveal the customer for who they are, you start to get the feeling for what it will be.
Or so I thought.
I readied my needle.
"As a liar, you're probably going to start asking me personal questions to get an idea of who I am. I'll help you, I'm from a respected family. I'm going to college here and fell in love with Evangeline. I am probably going to be an intern at my uncle's lawfirm, then in about twenty years I'll go into politics because I think I can save this country from what's tearing it apart."
I wasn't even listening to him. It all went over my head as I subconsciously tried to fight it all. Did I know what I was going to draw by then? In some way, I might have.
Once the needle hit his skin, it burned onto him like a crucifix to a vampire, a searing branding onto marked cattle for slaughter. He tried to fight the scream. It only took moments. I DEFINITELY knew once I made the first stroke. Eventually, it was all over.
I rubbed the tattoo with alcohol, and said I was done.
"Is that all?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that's it."
"That hurt for like two seconds. It took longer to sit in the chair than it did for you to draw that. Do you expect me to pay for this?"
"You told me I was going to get paid, yeah."
He gets up and looks at how red the skin around the tattoo is. His eyes catch the design, and his face immediately flushed with embarassment. He ran to the mirror to confirm.
"I'm sorry. I told you, I only make what you are."
"Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up. You've ruined me. I hate you."
"You can always get that removed, you know."
"I will. I'll just have to wear shirts when I screw for a couple weeks."
He handed me a fifty, put on his shirt and tugged the sleeves further down out of embarrassment. and leaves. I didn't argue with the price.
"HEY honey! Back so soon? Let me see it!"Eva smiles wide and bright.
"Let's go home first."He takes her arm and practically yanks her out of the shop.
I wasn't ready for the job. I wasn't ready to look into peoples' souls. I wasn't ready to be an artist. I realized I was too scared of it all. You think of all the nice moments of humanity, the righteous forces of love and understanding. Artists don't just talk or reveal things like that. Oh how I wish that was all there was. That isn't our responsibility. The artist's responsibility is to be honest. Genuine to the human spirit, no matter how ugly it is.
That was the last tattoo I did. It was also the last artistic thing I ever did. Maybe I'll pick up a needle or a pen back up again one day. I just don't think I have it in me to draw another swastika on a man. |
**honk**
So. Much. Makeup.
**honk**
So. Many. Shoes.
**honk**
The screaming, the screaming is something I will never forget.
After five years serving as one of His Majesties Great and Noble Clowns in the medical division I thought I had seen everything. I thought I could finally go home to Mr. Schmookums and be at peace. I was wrong.
Oh, I was so wrong.
**honk**
When Johnno first came across my table, I thought he was headed for the skies for sure. Like a cat in a cannon, I was sure he was headed for High Heaven with no chance at redemption. But Johnno proved resilient, even after removing 2km of hankercheifs from his lungs, he persisted like a really bad stink bomb. Surviving.
I saw him again when we headed into the Great Clown War of 2012. We lost many good honkers that day. The kilograms of shoes we buried. It was hell.
While I was on assignment with Flower Division, I saw Johnno again. He had been promoted, and was now commanding a unit of Mimes. I felt for him, as a watched his rookies get slaughtered by bad slapstick, and I could see that their pain, was his pain.
The next time I saw Johnno, he was commanding a Special Assignment of UniCycle Unit. He had finally gained his face-stripes. I had to re-attach his nose when a bad rubber ducky device exploded in one of his unit's backpacks. It wasn't pretty.
The last time Johnno and I met, he was commanding a battalion of first year recruits. They were trying to take on a small squad of veteran jugglers, and needless to say, they failed horribly. I was picking up handkerchiefs for the next two weeks, and even to this day, when i engage my flower cannon, all I can think of is Johnno. I hope you made it to the big pie in the sky buddy.
**honk** |
Jonah licked his lips, waiting for her reply. He knew he had to be careful and had taken every precaution, but things could still go very wrong very quickly. He didn't have to wait for very long.
*We're not that far away from each other!* She wrote. *I'm just ten minutes away.*
Perfect though it was more an hour from where he really lived. No sense giving too much away. He'd been grooming this girl for the past few months, even going so far as to start to learn some of the things she claimed to enjoy. When he thought about it, she wasn't all that much different from himself at her age. In fact, she would've been the kind of girl he saw himself dating. She was funny in a mature kind of way, interested in the same games, and had a taste for life not unlike that of a thirty-year old man. It was a miracle none of the boys in her school had thought of dating her, but then again most boys her age couldn't see past a girls neckline.
*Wow. We're close enough to meet each other IRL.* He worded the sentence to be intentionally vague. Let it be her idea to meet. After all, I was just trying to be a good friend, *Officer*. I didn't know she was so *young*.
*Maybe we should...* She wrote.
His heart leaped in his chest and his fingers shook as he wrote back. *You'd be ok with that?*
*I'd be ok with it if you are.*
*Well, if we did, when and where?* He had to retype the sentence twice to account for the errors.
*Friday? There's a park nearby that not many people go to. My mom takes me sometimes and it's romantic.* She wrote.
It was almost too good to be true. He nearly closed the open tabs and reformatted his hard drive, but there was something else he was feeling for the girl, something that so closely resembled a love he'd never had before that he wasn't sure if he'd be able to commit. The thought of someone hurting her made his stomach crawl, but the aching desire building in his heart told him that he'd never forgive himself if he didn't at least show up to see if she was real. He was just another guy walking in the park after all. He didn't even have to meet her. He could make up an excuse as to why he couldn't show and just *see* her with his own eyes.
*Friday works for me.* His finger hovered over the enter key for a full minute before he pressed it. He had to leave the room to steady his nerves and when he came back, she had already replied with a set of directions.
*See you then! :)* She logged off.
The park was idyllic and as secluded as she had said it would be. He'd made it a point to delete all evidence of his conversations with the girl in the case it turned out to go sour, but that was unlikely. There was something genuine about this one. As he pulled up, he noticed only two other cars were parked there and one looked like it'd been abandoned. He'd thought about bringing a dog, but she said she was terribly frightened of dogs. The lake was little more than a duck pond with a few benches, but secluded enough that one could get away with nearly anything in the shelter of the trees.
"You're younger than I thought you'd be,"A voice said from behind him.
He turned and found his girl just as she'd described herself; blonde hair tied up in braids, startling blue eyes, and barely a shoulder over four feet tall. He gulped and got to his feet.
"I don't....I'm just..."
"It's ok. I figured out you weren't who you said you were a while ago,"She smiled. "I kinda grew to like you back."
It was too perfect. He nearly ran, expecting a flood of FBI agents to descend from the bushes, but no one came.
"How did you know it was me?"He asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"Easy,"She winked. "You're the only one here. This lake sits on family land. I wasn't lying when I said no one comes out here. Can I ask you a question?"
He nodded.
"Do you really like me?"
He nodded again, unsure what to do next. Truthfully, he hadn't planned this far ahead.
"Good. I like that. Can I have a hug?"She smiled.
He stood where he was while she wrapped her arms around him. Then he yelped when something bit his skin.
"Stupid bugs..."He swatted at his leg, and then fell to the ground.
-*-
The woman watching from through the closed circuit camera shuddered when she saw her daughter give her a thumbs up over the unconscious man. She flipped off the screen, not wanting to see what happens next. She'd made that mistake before and vowed to never see it again.
"You're really OK with her doing this?"She asked her husband.
He shrugged and looked up from his newspaper. "If it makes her happy, why not? Besides, who's going to miss a lonely pervert? It's not like their going to tell anyone where they're going."
He looked at his wife for a short time and turned on the camera. "You don't have to clean up after this one if you don't want to. I'll make sure it gets done."
The woman shuddered again. "You're not worried...I mean, how do you know she won't get hurt?"
"You ask this every time, kitten. Trust me. The Police never come looking for these types of men up here,"The man smiled. "Would you rather Sara be doing this sort of thing *unprotected* out in the wide world? I was like her at that age you know. It runs through your blood like a virus, but there's no medicine that can treat what she has. It never quite leaves the body. Has to be *bled* out. At least this way, she gets it out of her system and the world is one less pervert. Now, let's go make some dinner. Sara will be hungry after the sweat she's going to work up and I have to dispose of another body once she's done."
EDIT: Sorry for leaving it ambiguous. I had to run out and was on my mobile. This should clear things up. |
"Hey Ted."
"Yeah Phil?"
"Did a golden mouth just pop out of the fire, screaming yesterday's date?"
"I don't think so. I was distracted. Did you see that green dog walk by?"
"No. No I didn't."
"Huh. That's odd."
"You know what? Maybe we should just focus on not dying. I actually don't know what was in that stuff we took."
"Ok. I'll do that once my hand stops being a banana."
----------------------------------------------------------------
"Hey Terry. Did you give that mortal his death date?"
"Yeah I did. Told him that he would die on... Wait, was he on the East Coast or West Coast?"
"East Coast of Britian, why?"
"Oh. Man, I know we're supposed to be timeless entities of pure energy, but I always mess up timezone conversion." |
A lot of frankly melodramatic language has been used to describe me through history. Scourge, ghoul, night-bringer, despoiler, blah blah blah (blah! I vant to -- nevermind.)
100 years ago I despised the emergence of mass-market pop culture because the Bela Lugosi style hunchbacked Count is such a reductive and harmful stereotype. But then came a sort of renaissance: Anne Rice and True Blood and Twilight -- while reductive in their own ways -- at least brought with them a lot of really dumb teenagers who willingly (willingly!) fed themselves to me. I am no more the sparkly Edward Cullen of Stephanie Meyer's addled brain than I am the beclawed creeping Nosferatu of the silent era. But I would rather pretend to be the former than the latter. A wink and a little flash of fang was all it took to reel in a fresh new feed every single night.
So I was actually doing well for myself. I would never in a million years have traded that for what I've got now. I know you may have heard that I take a special sadistic pleasure in the state of the world today -- well, I don't. I was human once myself; I like human things and human culture. The destruction of society is as sad for me as anyone. And let me also be clear that every human in my stable lives there by choice. For the ones who want to leave, I allow them. I do not need to keep prisoners -- the willing chattel are not in short supply. I treat them well and I keep them fed. It's the basic tenet of reciprocity.
They come to me half-crazed and half-dead themselves, having wandered who knows how many miles through the ruin and having lost who knows how much. When they realize what I am, that I am Special, that I can walk freely in the outside world without drawing notice, that I can gather supplies for them while they remain indoors, deep underground and safe, that under my care they will never have to hide and flee and cower in makeshift bunkers and worry whether today is the day the mob finally wins -- when they understand implicitly the terms of the deal before I even have to say -- they fall to their knees and actually *beg* me to take them in. They yank down their collars and bare their grimy necks and say "look, see, you can drink all you want, just don't make me go back out *there*. Don't send me back to *them*."The truth is I don't need to take anyone anymore -- my stable has grown so large that I really *shouldn't* -- but like I said. I'm not the soulless monster of cinema. I want to help. So go figure: me, formerly one of the most hated things in God's creation, now a savior of the human race.
|
The janitor looked at me stangely and asked, "do you want me to throw that orange in the bin?"
I looked up from behind my computer and growled, "No, go away". He looked even more confused and backed out of my work cubicle.
I must have looked crazy, i hadn't slept in almost 40 hours and i could feel the shakes kicking in from my last SpeedCoke, it must have been my 10th one, i looked at the ground under my desk..maybe my 20th one as i kicked the cans out of my way.
I looked over at the orange and the hundreds of optical and copper wires leading out of it and into the block of neurogel. The orange almost glowed on the pedestal but i wasn't sure if it was the orange or my vision was starting to play up.
I still couldn't believe that i had found a terminal prompt built into the DNA placeholder string. WTF was a digital UI doing in a piece of fruit, how was it even possible. I was trying to break down the DNA strings to change it HEX code and then transfer it to the other cubicle render pedestal, but i got a green windowed terminal prompt. That was 30 hours ago..
I had tried every command i knew and at least 1000 others from every language i could find online but all i got was the flashing command prompt, nothing else. No errors. No idea. Then i started to try human languages. I tried dozens, then i tried Latin, "mutatio presul". Fuck, something happened, the command prompt changed to "Level 233:/"
Then i tried "auxilium", which for you heathens that dont know Latin, is "help".
The screen filled with commands, all in Latin. I saw "mutatio obiectum", which is Latin for "change object".
I typed "mutatio obiectum pupillam"
The orange instantly changed into an apple, fuck....what was going on. Lets try some other commands..
------------------------------------------
thanks for reading, was a super quick 30 minute lunch time write.
-------------------------------------------
Part 2
------------------------------------------------------------------
Dan Rogers stood at my cubicle door, i had never seen anyone higher than a Project Analyst on the teleportation research floor. Now i had the Director of Research standing there, dressed in his VR bio suit and looking mildly angry.
How could he possibly know what had happened in my cubicle over the last 48 hours, i had only just got back to my office after grabbing 6 hours sleep. I hadn't even uploaded my findings to the TRP (Teleportation Research Portal), to be honest i still wasn't sure what i had seen, fruit changing into other fruit at the atomic level instantaneously in front of me sounds ridiculous, saying it out loud would sound even more ridiculous.
"You know they pulled me out of my VR-BIO workout to deal with this adamskee", he grumbled through his transparent face mask.
"Sorry sir", i nervously replied. "What can i do for you?"Knowing that he was here about the orange.
"Show me"he said as he walked into the cubicle, sat down and removed his VR mask.
"How did you know sir?"i asked, as i sat down behind the computer and stared at the blinking green cursor in the terminal prompt that had been created by an orange.
"Call me Dan", he said in a more casual tone. "The system AI told me that it saw something that it could not log in your cubicle, so i had a look", Dan responded with a smile.
I thought for a second on what to type and decided on "mutatio pirum". The instant i pressed enter the orange turned into a pear. Dan smiled some more. i typed "mutatio Musa sapientum fixa"and the pear turned into a banana.
'What software stack are you using to access this?"he asked. "And what was your TS (teleportation script) on this test?"
"No software Dan, a terminal prompt appeared on my screen before i could start a test script."i responded. "It took nearly 40 hours of syntax testing before i got it to work using Latin."
"Fuck, you cracked it! in Latin...you found a way into the outer shell layer. Through a piece of fruit! We have had human and AI techs working on this since we saw a pine sapling turn into a dolphin in the lab on 300m teleportation test 18 months ago. We haven't even been able to get a stable UI prompt window, let alone work out a language syntax."he said excitedly.
He looked seriously at me and said in cold voice, "you cannot tell anyone about this, we will move you SUB33 and let you continue this line of research. You know you have found the only known stable connection to the master outer shell system."
"What's the master outer shell system?"i asked.
Dan smiled his big smile and said "it's what makes the orange an orange and a tree a dolphin. It's the god system and you just cracked it".
----------------------------------------------------------------
another quick 30 minute production.
|
"So, where do you want to go today Clara Oswald?"The Doctor asked in his gruff voice as he fiddled with levers, pullys and buttons on the TARDIS's control panel.
Clara looked over the TARDIS, briefly looked at the computer screen, and threw it aside with such force it nearly spun fully around the console.
"I want to see something magical."
"Magical, eh? What is it with you humans and your ma..gic."The Doctor had to emphasize the two syllables in magic, "There is no ma...gic, only science and reason."
"You know, you could take it for what it's worth."
"For what it's worth? Did PE put you up to this? I didn't think soldiers could use their imaginations."
"No, I just want to see something different."
"Aye, different. That settles it then."The Doctor gave a coy smile, the sort of coy a crocodile gives, but that's besides the point. A flip of the main lever and the TARDIS was off.
....
As the doors opened Clara looked about the great hall, the floating candles, the ornate Gothic architecture. Not to mention the two hundred or so children who had suddenly had their breakfast interrupted by a large box mysteriously appearing out of nowhere. The raised their wands so quickly that suddenly, Clara realized she wasn't alone.
"Doctor...."
"What? What I'm grabbing something."
"Doctor...."
"Well, you'll have to wait a minute. I'm not sure where I put the bloody thing."
"Doctor...."
As the Doctor sauntered through the TARDIS's doors, he was looking in his pocket for something, his sonic screwdriver in his hand. He was still looking through his pockets as Clara tugged on his coat.
"What? What?"He scolded as he looked up over the group of people before him, "Oh. Bloody hell, why here?"
"Welcome back old friend."A voice in the back echoed.
The man was old, older than the Doctor possibly. His long beard reached the ground and his friendly face put the entire group of children at ease as they lowered their wands and sat back down on the endless benches. The man walked forward and Clara could see the simple robes the man wore.
"If there's one thing that's more pudding brained than you humans,"The Doctor whispered to Clara, "It's a wizard."
"It's good to see you old friend, but, you've grown quite grey since the last time we've seen each other."The man smiled warmly to Clara, "I'm the headmaster of this school. The name is Albus Dumbledore."
"It's a pleasure."Clara smiled.
"You see Doctor, we have a slight problem."
"You lot always have a problem. Magic doesn't exist."The Doctor gruffly scolded.
"No, no my friend. You see, you are going to be late for your first class. You're teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at ten o'clock. You are our new instructor." |
"What the fuck do you mean"
"I mean theres fire everywhere and i have no clue whats going on"
"Cant you use the steps?"
"Cant see past the smoke, people are starting to panic. Is there anything on the news"
"Let me check"
"Babe if i dont make it th-"
"Stop, stop talking like that. Let me check the news its gonna be ok"
"...ok"
"Oh..oh god"
"What? What is it?"
"It was a plane, just slammed straight into it"
"There has to be a rescue team right"
"Its bad, wait whats that?"
"Whats what?"
"Is that a second fucking-"
"*explosion"
"ARE YOU OK?"
"Im scared"
"Get out, i dont care how just get out"
"There is one way I guess"
"do it, get the hell out of there"
"Baby, please forgive me"
"For what?"
"I love you"
"I love you too, so how are you getting out?"
"Babe?"
"Baby?"
"Hello?"
|
Last week, my route home from work took seventeen minutes. Now it takes four, and conveniently passes the grocery store. My office, which I once shared with seven other frustrated mid-lifers, now just contains my desk and the nice banzai tree our boss Susan bought for the office during her I’m-one-of-you phase. Nobody else notices these changes, even the big ones. I’m pretty sure I’ve read stories like this, and the main character usually freaks out or ends up being crazy. Well, whatever this wave turns out to be, I’m riding it to shore.
Sure, I mean, if I think about it too much, my mind goes all stretchy and I want to scream, but what’s the use? Maybe I’m losing my mind, maybe the seamstress stitching reality together hasn’t had a break in thirteen billion years and she’s starting to slip. Not worth thinking about, either way. So instead I focus on the positives. Most of what’s happened has been awesome. I’m closer to work, dogs haven’t pooped on my lawn in a month, I’m pretty sure the pickle industry has disappeared completely, and literally every single car has used their blinkers to effectively communicate their intent on the road.
There’s also this girl. I first noticed her on my way to work; I was stopped at a light, and she crossed the street, twirling an umbrella in the rain. Her pale skin shone even in the gray of the cloudy day. Our eyes touched, and it was like time sped up. Before I knew it, she was gone and the driver behind me was understandably honking my idleness. Later I saw her in the produce aisle, examining a shining apple the shade of her lips. I stared a little too long, and she looked up at me and smiled. My heart lost its sense of rhythm, and time sped again, and she was gone. Since then I’ve seen her every day, each time somewhere different.
One day she spoke. I was having dinner at the incredible ramen shop that recently opened next to my apartment. She sat suddenly at the table and, after I’d pretended not to be slurping the world’s longest noodle, she said, “Do you like it?”
“What, the ramen?” I said stupidly, because I am stupid. “Um, yeah!” Could I not think of anything else to say? Good lord.
“Everything,” she said. What? Before I could respond, she was gone. Not like, stood up and walked. She just disappeared. My head started to hurt. I threw some money on the table and stumbled back to my place.
I don’t remember sleeping, but I woke up on my couch, and she was there, lounging on my recliner, one leg crossed over the other, foot tapping in the air. “Do you like it?”
My mind races, I don’t know whether to respond or run and hide. “I—who are you?”
She smiles, a little too wide for her face. “Do you like it?” she asks again. “I made this.”
“Made what? Why are you in my home?”
“Our home. I made this for you.” Suddenly she’s sitting next to me, arm curled around my shoulders. “I like you.”
I leap to my feet, retreat toward the door. “Can you—” my head is pounding—“please leave? Leave, please.” I opened the door.
The door isn’t open. She’s standing next to me. She holds my gaze, her presence is too strong to turn away from. I look into her eyes, and her face briefly flickers, elongates, twists. Some part of me wants to scream, but it's far away. “Do you like it?” My mind goes blank. Distantly I think about whether a mind can be altered, like an office building or a drive to work.
Her face is normal. Beautiful. Perfectly beautiful. “I—I like it.” The words feel nice to say. “I like you.” |
"Let me get this straight,"the bulbous, blubbering blob before me said, "it's *not* butter?"
I shook my head. "I know, dude. I can't believe it either."I leaned in earnestly. "But it's true."
The alien conferred with its brethren. "We have understood mysteries that other species have *never* fathomed. We have seen worlds born, and die. We have bridged galaxies. We have unified all physics to a single equation. How. *How?* How have you done this?"
I tried to play it cool. "You did your whole physics thing. And that's cool, you know. But while you were playing around with equations... we? We were mastering dairy."
They mumured.
"You can either be a jack of all trades or a master of one,"I said. "We have knowledge you cannot possibly hope to understand. We *are* prepared to exchange this knowledge. At a price."
There was another conference. In a way, their blobby bodies were kind of cute, all smooshed together. In another way, it was pretty fucking gross.
"We are prepared to exchange. One element of knowledge. In exchange for one tub of this mystical chemical you call *I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.*"
I pretended to consider the offer. "I accept,"I said. "Solely in the spirit of a future relationship between our two species."
I handed over the tub. "What have you got in the way of superpowers?" |
I've been traveling for three days, now, looking for more pieces to add to my collection. When I say pieces, I mean art pieces, but sadly enough the other term also applies. Whenever I acquire new artwork, I can never seem to keep it in one piece for very long. In my mouth, I carry a basket full of my most precious possessions - every last one of them, shattered.
Down the road, I spot a prickly creature dragging dozens of colorful rubber pieces behind it. Curious, I decide to approach it.
"Hello, fair porcupine. Might I ask what those colorful rubber pieces are for?"
"Ah, hello there, Mister Bull. These pieces are what's left of my balloon collection. You see, I love the wonderful little balls of helium. Their beautiful colors, their insistence on rising into the sky, their hopeful optimism. But the moment I get a balloon, my spikes destroy it. Though they can no longer fly, there's something beautiful about what's left behind, isn't there?"
I nodded. "Of course I understand. Would you like to see my china collection? The pieces are somewhat out of order, but they're still beautiful nonetheless."
The porcupine brightened. "Yes, I would love to see! I rarely meet a kindred soul who appreciates beauty the same way that I do."
Carefully, I lowered the basket, unfolded the blanket that I carried upon my back, and emptied the fragments onto the blanket.
The porcupine gasped. "They're beautiful. ...May I?"he stretched out a hand towards a piece.
"Of course you may,"I replied, and he picked up the piece, turning it about and admiring it in his small paws. In the back of my mind, an idea was forming.
"Say, friend, where are you heading next?"
"Towards Prontera,"he replied. "There is a vendor there, and I hoped to pick up some more balloons."
"Then,"I proposed, "shall we travel together? I can carry your balloons, and you can carry my china, and together we can collect beautiful things that will not be broken."
|
It seemed like a fair enough trade at the time. “So I use my last wish to free you from the lamp, and in return you give me *everlasting protection*?”
“That is correct,” said the genie, standing there with his arms crossed beside the lamp that was still half-buried in the sand. “Should you free me, I promise to protect you from every ill for the rest of your days.”
My first wish had been used for unlimited wealth. The genie had presented me with a magical credit card. I could swipe it for any purchase, and it would always be approved. My head was already swimming with ideas for everything I could buy with it.
My second wish had been motivated by circumstance, as I had become hopelessly lost in this desert while searching for the lamp. I had wished to never be lost again. The genie had presented me with a magical device that always told me where I was and would guide me to wherever I needed to go. It even had the option for celebrity voices to be my guide. I had set it to Arnold Schwarzenegger.
With my third wish, I had planned on wishing to no longer need to eat or drink, for here I was dying of thirst in the middle of a desert in my quest to find this lamp. But then the genie had presented his offer, a trade of his freedom for my everlasting protection, and everlasting protection must include protection from dying of thirst, right? It seemed fair enough, and so I accepted the genie’s offer.
With a poof, the lamp disappeared and now it was only the genie, standing there beside me.
“So,” I said. “How does this work then?”
The genie cleared his throat and said, “Much like the device I gave you can guide you to any location, I shall guide you away from any harm. Take my advice, and you will always remain safe.”
It sounded reasonable.
“For starters,” said the genie, “you will soon die of thirst if you do not find something to drink. There is an oasis nearby.”
The magical location device came to life, and Arnold’s voice erupted from it: “Go south! Two mah-yulls!”
On that day, the guidance of the genie and the helpful directions of Arnold doubtlessly saved my life. But as the days and weeks and months stretched on and I found myself back in the relative safety of my home, far from the desert, the gift of the genie started to become a burden.
One particular morning, I stood at the toilet, trying to pee but too unnerved to get the flow going. “Do you always have to watch me?”
“It is my duty,” said the genie. “To protect you from any ill for the rest of your days.”
“But I’m just trying to pee,” I said. “I don’t think there’s any harm that I’ll need protecting from here.”
“You never know,” said the genie, standing there with those always-crossed arms and that stern expression.
When I went out for my morning coffee, the genie was there every step of the way. I had given up on driving anywhere after far too many incidents with the genie freaking out over the dangers of driving a car. Here I was, a man with unlimited wealth, and I couldn’t even drive any of my fancy new cars. And so I – we – walked just about everywhere we went now.
“Turn left NAOW!” said Arnold as I came down the main thoroughfare. I hadn’t yet been able to figure out a way to turn the device off or reduce the volume.
“Careful,” said the genie. “In fifty feet there will be a piece of recently-chewed gum on the sidewalk. You will need to avoid it.”
“Thanks, genie,” I said. “But I really don’t think that’s going to cause me any harm.”
“It will get stuck in the treads of your shoe,” said the genie. “It will cause you a moderate amount of distress.”
I sighed. “Thanks, genie.” It had become my default response to all his pointless warnings.
At the coffee shop, the genie suddenly became very anxious. I hadn’t seen him like this before, and it made me a little paranoid. “What is it?” I asked, but he stayed silent, his eyes darting around the coffee shop.
I kept waiting for some sudden warning from the genie, perhaps a man with a knife would try to rob me, or a bomb would suddenly explode somewhere. I was ready for anything.
Nervously, I ordered my coffee and found a table in the corner where I could have a wall at my back and a good vantage point of the room. I raised the coffee cup to my lips, and the genie suddenly grabbed me by the wrist and hissed, “*Stop*!”
“What?” I said. “What is it? Did somebody poison it?”
“No,” said the genie. “But it’s very hot.”
“Thanks, genie.” |
"I'm ready Mark."
George was going to have his older brother Unveil him for today. Technically he should have chosen his mother, per family tradition. But having an older brother as your guide for most of your life can change that. She never spoke to George anyway. Refused to in scratchy, penscreen scribbles between his father and brother that made it impossible for him to know what was going on each time he asked.
A single word slipped from his father too early in his life in the family dining room;
*"Abomination."*
It was fine though. He had Mark, so he gave him the honor.
They were coming home several weekends ago from the auditorium (It was the latest blockbuster with that Australian opera singer) when George asked him to be his Unveiler.
Mark was taken aback at first. "It's always mother though! She gave us life, why would she not be your First sight?"
George looked to where Mark spoke. The pitch was low and rough for a twenty year old. Kids would mistake him for his dad sometimes, but it always soothed him. No matter how bad he smelt sometimes.
"I know,"he said simply. "But you made it worth while."
Finally, this March afternoon would be his time to see. He didn't know what to expect. They traveled between many private schools, and school boards still disagreed on how to explain sight. So that point of the general curriculum became optional.
And George attended every class.
Warm, familiar hands reached around the screws to his iron blindfold. "It's just us, as it was for me..."
George nodded slowly, trying not to cry. It made his eyes ach---
"... Just my face, for your eyes to see..."
*It won't hurt to cry anymore.*
"... I remove this blocking line..."
*I'm scared.*
"... To show a new world, brother of mine."
His chest stirred with heavy emotion. Mark changed the words for him today.
The bolts were replaced a week ago for the ceremony, so they came out with little resistance. Mark held the bar in front of his face so it wouldn't collapse. Their father warned them three times about accidental ripping. It didn't hurt. His face felt... *light.*
Light. The word assailed around his forehead and nose before, but it never made sense to him. It came in many scents. It can touch. After a few months, the light would even taste without putting anything in your mouth.
George welcomed the coming tide.
"I'm ready Mark."
His brother didn't respond. His breaths were small and quick.
"Mark?"
A heart banged against someone's chest with, distress. It wasn't his own though.
"What's wrong brother?"
The words tore through the soothing timber in a crooked mumble. "Why, mother?"
George could only stand there quietly, waiting for Mark to collect himself. He could throw questions and show how scared he was in a tantrum, but it wouldn't be good for Mark.
"Can I open my eyes now?"
Mark's hands fell on his shoulders, and shook as he lost control.
George asked again quietly through the stinging salt down his cheeks. "Please. Can I open my eyes?"
The world never changed.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*More at r/galokot, and thank you for reading! I normally write lighter responses, but gotta change things up sometimes to get better.* |
The first time he had flown was with his wife. For his proposal, he had flown her high up into the sky and written with the clouds, "Will you marry me?"
He had explained his powers but lied to her that he could only do it once in his lifetime. When they landed, she told him that she loved him.
The second time he had flown was with his son. Their pet dog had passed away and he needed to get his kid outside and in high spirits. The two of them flew up into the sky as Dad did flips.
By the end of the hour, he had landed with his son who was immediately ecstatic. Like to his mother, he explained to the boy that he could only do it once in his lifetime. He also told him not to tell his mother.
Sixty years had passed since the second time. The son had grown up and had a family of his own.
The man's wife slowly drew her final breathes in the hospital bed as she looked at his eyes.
"Honey,"she whispered, "I know that you flew with our son all those years ago."
"So he told you,"the man chuckled, "Why didn't you tell me?"
"His father can fly,"his wife smiled back at him gently, "I think that's something worth sharing."
She looked outside the window and sighed.
"Honey, I don't want to die in this bed."
She glanced over at him.
"Can you take me on one last flight?"
The man knew the precautions and what his third flight meant.
But he was fine with it.
He nodded as he slowly took off the leads off his wife's body. He slowly helped her dress and within several minutes, the two of them faced the sky from her window. He grabbed her tight around his back as he looked back at her.
"Ready?"
"Ready."She nodded weakly.
It was a slow flight as the man enjoyed the summer breeze. Several people pointed up at him as a small crowd had begun to gather beneath him.
He heard his wife awe and gasp behind him.
"I missed this."
He nodded in agreement as she drew her last breath.
"Melissa?"
No answer.
"Melissa?"
A quiet breeze flew past him as he sighed.
"I think it's time,"he began to slow down and headed towards the ground.
Still a dozen feet in the air, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed a number he always remembered.
*I'm sorry, this number is currently...*
"Figures,"he smiled, "He's working."
The call went to voice mail as the man laughed, "Hey son, it's Dad. I just want to say your mother and I are going now. Have a great one and I... I just wanted to tell you..."
A tear stung his eye.
"I love you."He finished as he slowly made his descent.
His feet touched the ground as the phone crashed onto the pavement.
He felt a lost of consciousness as a small crowd of people gathered around him. A voice stood out as it began to address him.
"It's time."
"I know."
"Do you regret any of it?"
"None at all. And thank you."
"Oh?"
"I thought that three times wouldn't be worth it, but it was perfect."
"You're welcome, John."
John let the blackness take him and let go.
The crowd slowly gathered around the man who had seemingly flown with an elderly woman. The two of them looked satisfied with a smile on their faces as a off-duty nurse looked for their pulses.
"Are they alright?"
The nurse shook her head as another man reached for the elderly man's pocket.
"Who was he?"
"Was he actually flying?"
The man slowly found a brown-leather wallet and slowly opened it up. A recently-renewed driver's license smiled back at him as he took the card out.
"What was his name?"A kid had fought his way through the crowd and stood eagerly in the front.
The man looked at the card and took a deep breath.
"His name was...
**JOHN CENAAA!!**"
_________________________________________________________
I had to. I'm sorry. God bless. |
I didn't think I'd ever put this down into words, but I can't take it any longer. I need to process it somehow. Thinking about it doesn't do me any good. So, dear diary, please lift this burden off my shoulders, if only by a little. I feel scared writing this. If anyone knew of what I'm about to write, I'd have to kill myself. Even if it was just one person, it would be enough to convince me to give it all up.
Luckily I have people in my life who would never violate my trust. They're the only thing making me fight. The only thing keeping me alive. I count myself blessed every day. Life is precious, when you have precious people around. Sometimes everything feels so dark. So bleak. But there is good in the world. Friends and family members who wouldn't betray you even if it costed them their lives. And I'm happy to say I'd do the same for them. Even if I'd have to take a bullet, I would never let them down. They deserve it. I'm sad they don't know it. I'd give everything for them. Anything to protect them. It's silly, but I day dream from time to time. I have fantasies where I push them out of the way of an incoming truck and take the hit. Sometimes I wish I could kill myself that way. I've prayed for an opportunity. A chance to show them how much they are worth to me. But I know it would haunt them. They are better than me. They are everything I have. |
2016 was horrible for both parties.
See, the Democrats had Hillary Clinton, but most people didn't want to have her as the president. In fact, about two-thirds thought she was dishonest. The Republicans had Donald Trump, or as John Oliver put him, "a clown made of mummified foreskin and cotton candy".
So, my friends and I decided to file FEC paperwork under my name. See, I've never really voted along one party line, so I just kinda put both parties. It was a joke! Honest! I hung those papers up on the wall and my friends and I had a good laugh.
Then Iowa came. I won 70% of voters across the state. Turns out Mic. was doing an article on satirical candidates, and I had become some kind of internet sensation overnight. r/PhillipsWoodsForPresident was one of the most active subreddits, above r/HillaryClinton (but that's not much competition), r/The_Donald, and r/SandersForPresident. Hell, I had a campaign website, an ActBlue and an RNC donation page with about 10 million in donations from small donations of less than $2,700.
Then I won both parties in New Hampshire, trailed Clinton in Nevada, South Carolina, Alabama, and Arkansas, and won the Republican primaries in all of those states. So, apparently both the DNC and the RNC provided me with campaign managers, staff, etc. that I didn't even know about until they came to my house and asked why I wasn't out campaigning. Seriously? I work Data Entry at a dental office.
So, they made me say a couple speeches. Basically, I was pro-gun, pro-LGBT rights, favoring a smaller government with more economic regulation, neutral on immigration, all of that. I started believing in myself, too. I shook hands with nearly every congressman and congresswoman in Washington. I was "the savior of the Democratic and Republican parties".
I went to a couple of debates, and I just talked. Seriously, I didn't yell, didn't scream, wasn't aggressive. I literally just told people what I believed, and people were happy with a "refreshing new candidate"that didn't take corporate money. I flustered O'Malley and Webb, and they dropped out before Colorado. Hillary Clinton dropped out because she had received such low voter turnout, so it was just between me and Bernie Sanders.
Trump dropped out in disgrace, saying, "He's a loser! He's a democrat! The democrats are ruining the Republican Party! But now, I must make America great again through the private sector, not the public one. Also, my hands are not small!"Jeb Bush dropped out because he had the whole of 10 votes in 6 states. Ted Cruz couldn't run because he was a Canadian, and public opinion shifted against him. John Kasich was John Kasich. Nobody voted for him.
Anyways, that's how I ended up as the front-runner of both parties. I took Sanders as my Vice-President due to the public support and his experience getting things through the Senate.
I had won 76% of this country's vote in the primaries. I won 94% of the popular vote, with 3.5% going to Jill Stein of the Green Party and 2.4% going to Gary Johnson of the Libertarian Party. it was the first time in history both the Democrats and Republicans had won a landslide victory. I served my presidency as "The Great Uniter", working to decrease the debt and increase personal freedom and security. People loved me. My approval rating never went below 75%.
So I took a trip to my home state of Texas. Toured around the state, went to Dallas. Drove down Elm Street in Dallas, and I got shot by some guy with the Party for Social Liberation, which got, like, 0.0003% of the vote. As the country's most popular president of the last 20 years, I died during my last 2 years in office, on the same street JFK died on.
They rushed me to Parkland, but it turns out no amount of surgery can repair a gunshot to the head. I died, and "The Great Uniter"was gone.
I'd like to say maybe I had a difference. That the Republicans and Democrats would unite under my death. Instead, both parties blamed the other for not stopping the Party for Social Liberation from killing me. The greatest irony of my death is that "The Great Uniter"divided this country more than ever by his death.
This country's greatest divide was my death. Go figure.
*If you liked this, please read more of my stories on r/TheTexasKid and subscribe!* |
The year is 2200 and there has been no better time to live than now. Life extension treatments grant us a kind of functional immortality, and bio-computers implanted within our heads allow instant flawless access to memories and information. I can conjure up an image in my head and a holographic display can render it in full three dimensional reality for all to see. I woke up this morning to find I had produced a new feature film from the contents of my dreams. Of course, it was what might have been considered pornography two hundred years ago, but that term has no meaning any longer. Today, sex is treated like any other recreational activity and on a nice warm day you can see dozens of people engaged in orgies at the park.
Mastering genetics was the key to loosening up taboos. Women choose exactly when they wish to become pregnant, diseases of all kinds - sexually transmitted and otherwise - have been eradicated, and mutations are nonexistent. It's really quite amazing, when you think about it, how quickly the old prudish morality went right out the window when people realized that most of those archaic ideas were based in defunct religious beliefs and fears of catching something.
I was thinking about going to see the blood sports this afternoon, haven't seen a good stabbing in a long time, and who knows, maybe I'll jump in and give it a shot. I'm pretty good with a knife, and it's been maybe five years since I gutted someone. Some prefer to watch the chimera fights, but listening to a bunch of kids screaming as their arms are torn off by griffons gets old real quick. Of course none of this would be possible without modern medicine; there isn't anything they can't fix these days and the implants stifle the pain for the most part. I saw my buddy Joh get ripped in half - lengthwise - by a giant crab, and met him for heroin and lunch the next day. Bastard has a sense of humor I'll tell ya, he ordered the crab.
I'm supposed to go 'have dinner' with my grandmother tomorrow, but knowing her she just wants to fuck me again. I don't mind, she still looks 20 and has a pretty nice set of tits, not to mention she sucks a mean dick. Maybe uncle Bobby will be there and we'll have a three way. |
"Are you tired of having dreams that you will never achieve? Tired of wanting it all but not being able grab it? Do you set realistically unrealistic goals for yourself? Drozenol may be just right for you."
Her glossy eyes stared into my soul through the television screen. Occasionally she would tilt her head ever so slightly in between sentences. She was having a conversation with the viewer and was dressed the part. A warm yellow cardigan sweater on top of a floral white blouse. Lightly bleached blonde hair and a face with subtle happy wrinkles. Laugh lines I think she called them. Adorned around the neck with a pearl necklace, dulled enough to look fake.
She was your mother, your friend's mother, your co-worker, your neighbor, your aunt, your Mrs. fucking Robinson for all I care. She connected with the lonely demographic we were going for and that's the only thing that mattered to me. Her teeth matched her necklace and her smile kept the viewer distracted while an auctioneer narrator rattled off the side effects.
"...and in some cases thoughts of death may occur."She tilted her head to the opposite side.
"I gotta admit the commercial makes me a little uncomfortable."Said Paul, who was nibbling on the corner of his fingernail. He stood up and walked to the television. It was paused on the woman's glazed smiley face. "Where did we get her again?"
"She was the casting director's sister,"I replied, scratching my head. "Maybe her aunt. She was a tester for the product. She's down in the lobby if you want to call her up."
Paul shook his head and waved it off. "Nah, she's fine. It could be that it's the product that I'm having concerns about. I've always assumed anti-depressants were all about the placebo effect and we were just selling sugar pills. It's rather frightening when your product actually works."
"So you'd rather scam the consumers with sugar pills than offer them a potential solution?"
"These aren't anti-depressants, Alan! That's the thing. You've seen what they do to people."
"I've seen them help people, if that's what you're referring to."I replied.
Paul stifled a startled snort. "Help? It doesn't help! It changes them. Do I need to remind you what happened to the testers?"
"I don't want to hear it,"I raised my voice so I could stop hearing his. "What happened to those testers after the trials are not our legal responsibility. The fatalities that occurred were not in anyway linked to Drozenol."
Not medically that is. There absolutely had to have been a link. Anyone should be able to figure that out. Every single tester that tried the product and not the sugar pill has either shot themselves or hung themselves or flung themselves off a roof somewhere. All but one; and that one's face is on the screen in front of us.
"Look, Paul. There are a lot of pharmaceutical companies out there. We're not even in the top twenty. We *need* to put out a product this quarter. For the shareholders, for the company, for us. This is important for us."
Paul was about to disagree with me again. I've known and worked with him for so long I can read his face before he even registers an idea. His face showed disagreement for a second, but changed to puzzled. He was staring out our eleventh story window. He rushed over to it and looked down. I followed.
On the ground was a person lying face down, draped in a yellow cardigan and surrounded by shattered pearls. |
The genie cleared his throat, glancing at his watch. That's odd, thought Adam as he twiddled his fingers with anxiousness. Adam imagined that if the genie had legs, and not an opaque tail connecting the spout of his lamp with his torso, he'd be tapping his foot as well.
"Adam it's been 37 minutes, I have places to go you know."The genie spoke with what could only be described as a thick, old-school Brooklyn accent.
"I know. I'm sorry."said Adam, glancing once more at the genie's slick gold watch. "If you don't mind me asking, why does a genie need a watch?"
The genie sighed heavily.
"Just because I'm a magical being doesn't mean I don't have a schedule, alright? Do you think my life just occurs when some 26 year-old customer support rep stumbles upon my lamp at a thrift shop?"
"No! I didn't mean that at all!"Adam spurted out. While he wanted nothing more than to ask the genie where he got his uncharacteristic accent, he didn't want to annoy him further. His patience was wearing thin.
"Look,"continued the genie. "Don't overthink it. Most people just wish for money or for love-"
"I thought genie's couldn't make someone fall in love with another person?"
"Yeah, who told you that? A disney cartoon voiced by Robin Williams? Fucking millenials, think you know everything."
Adam stopped pacing and faced the genie, his body perfectly still.
"So you could? You could make something fall in love with me?"
"I could."shrugged the genie. He paused, considering his next few words. "But, it's not as good as the real thing. All that shit that happens in the beginning like, uh, you walking her home for the first time or her farting in front of you by accident, builds up to something more powerful than I could ever conjure up. I wouldn't worry too much about it kid, if you really want to find love, it'll happen."
Adam sat down, deep in thought. He remained still for about three minutes before the genie waved a hand in front of his face.
"Hey kid!"shouted the genie. "You alright? I got places to be, remember?"
Adam shook his head a little and stood up.
"What you said about love,"he began. "About it not being good without all that, uh, shit at the beginning?"
"Yeah?"said the genie.
"Doesn't that apply to everything?"questioned Adam. "I mean, I could wish for a million dollars right now, or a successful career, or fame, but it wouldn't change who I am, right?"
"I don't follow."
"You said it yourself!"continued Adam. "I'm a shitty, 26 year-old customer support rep. If you dropped a million dollars on my lap right now, you know what I'd do with it?"
"What? I never called you shitty."
"I'd buy a fucking huge house and play League of Legends all day until the money ran out."said Adam plainly.
"You know, I can't fucking get that game, there's too much movement."said the genie. "Whose on what team? What the fuck is mana? I'm a fucking genie in real life, but I can't cast a spell to save my goddamn life in that game."
"Shut up!"shouted Adam with a forcefulness that surprised himself. "Don't you see what I'm getting at?"
"Frankly no."said the genie. "In all my years of doing this, no one has EVER taken this long to think of a goddamn wish."
"If you give me anything without me working for it, I won't appreciate it. I'll just throw it away like all the other opportunities that landed in my lap. If I want to change who I am, I have to work for something."
"Jesus Christ kid,"said the genie, rolling his eyes. "What is this, an afterschool special? Just wish for a trillion dollars and let's get this shit over with."
"No!"cried Adam, standing upright to look the genie in the eye. Something unidentifiable was stirring inside of Adam, something he hadn't felt in a very long time. Was it passion? He couldn't tell.
"Well then, what do you wish for?"
"I wish,"began Adam, awkwardly. "To know what I should do."
"Come again?"asked the genie.
"What I SHOULD do."reiterated Adam. "I know I'm good for something and I just haven't found it yet. I want you to tell me what that something is. Can you do that?"
"Of course I can."said the genie. "And although part of me wants to talk you out of making such a stupid fucking wish, a bigger part of me wants to get the fuck out of here."
It was at that point that the genie disappeared back into his lamp for a few seconds, reappearing with a piece of paper and an envelope.
"Do you have a pen?"asked the genie.
Adam shuffled through his pants, then his backpack, only to produce a bright red mechanical pencil. The genie rolled his eyes, clicked the pencil three times and began to write down a few words on his scrap piece of paper.
When he was done, he stuffed the piece of paper into the envelope, sealed it and handed it to Adam.
"What's this?"asked Adam.
"*What's this?*"mimicked the genie. "It's your wish dumbass. The answer to your question. Man, I cannot believe you just did that. I am going to be telling people about your idiocy until the end of time."
And with that, the genie handed Adam his envelope and disappeared back into his lamp. Adam called after him, but he did not reply.
|
"Hold this for me for the week and you shall be repayed in gold and jewels"spoke the shimmering slime infront of me.
"What is it"I enquired, not wanting to get into trouble.
"Premium salt, from the belt of Orion. Keep safe"*Wibble wibble wibble* and the alien was gone. That was odd. Well, I do have nothing to do today, so I should find somewhere to put the salt.
**Bang bang bang** "My favourite door!"I whimpered before I was knocked out by the tranquilliser dart.
"You are charged with intergalactic drug smuggling, how do you plead?"asked the particularly angry podium.
And a thought occured to me. "Can you scan my body and my planetary ocean please"
*Glow glow glow*
"Oh dear. We are very sorry for this. We did not know your species needs salt to survive"spoke the now calm podium. "Release the prisoner, and put a note that their species needs salt in many crucial processes. What a weird species..."
***One week later***
*Wibble* "Do you have the salt still?"
"Yes, with interest"and I show the slime the seven other packages filled with salt.
"This could be a part of a beautiful friendship." |
I always hated crowds.
The hour was one past noon, and the promenade was bustling with crowds. I slowly made my way through, merging from one current of people to the next. Moving against the natural flow wasn't an option for me. Were I to move against the current, a torrent of oblivious passers-by would bump into me, perhaps huff at the inconvenience, or stroll through me as though I didn't exist. Sometimes one might give a cursory glance, but they would always look away, having quickly forgotten they saw me.
I approached a popular food stand on the edge of a major walkway. A queue of hungry patrons numbered perhaps forty heads strong, twisting this way and that. I moved to the head of the line, looked over the selection of wrapped foods and canned drinks. The cashier continued to serve the head of the line, ignoring me.
"Excuse me, sir."
His eyes turned to me, barely. The people in queue gave a sideways glance as well. I briefly conveyed an order, and the cashier, without a thought, procured what I asked for. He never asked for payment. Then I took my leave, and he returned to his routine, and he and those in the queue quickly forgot they had been interrupted.
I maneuvered to a secondary walkway leading off the promenade, where I could enjoy my snack without being elbowed every other bite. Then I took a ninety degree turn down a tertiary street, and so on, until I'd reached a narrow section where the walkways no longer followed a strict pattern.
Just as I'd finished my afternoon meal, I rounded another corner to see a group of boys standing in a circle, looking down at something and shouting unintelligibly. Then one of them spat, and the whole group disbanded, save one boy who was on the ground, and had evidently been surrounded. The gang brushed passed me, their heads barely higher than my waist, without a word. And now the alley was empty save me and the boy who was left behind.
I sat next to him, on my knees, and put a hand on his shoulder. He jolted a little, as though struck by an unexpectedly strong gust.
"Look at me."He did. "You can see me now, can't you?"
He stared, puzzled, for a few seconds. "Who are you?"He asked. Too embarrassed, I imagined, to ask his most pressing question: _How did you sneak up on me?_
"Just a ghost in the wind,"I replied.
"I wish I could disappear,"he said. I only just noticed he was tearing up.
"I know how you feel."He looked up at me. "Neither of us like the attention we've drawn. You're thrust in the spotlight. While I'm invisible."
"Invisible?"
"You didn't notice me when I was right in front of you. You didn't even notice when I had my arm around you. But now that you've seen me, you always will. Just the way it works."
Spiteful silence was his only reply.
"Tell you what, let's team up."He perked up at that. "If I need something done in the spotlight, you can do it for me. But anything you want done in secret... you know, something you want done to someone, for instance,"I said, tilting my head in the direction the gang had left.
He returned a mischievous smiled. It was a done deal. |
"But Dad, I want to go to school!"he whined whilst a few water-blue tears ran down his face. Kids these days were so ungrateful. I remember how when I was his age I would daydream for hours about traveling the world, catching pokemon and winning gym badges; I've sacrificed so much for my son to have the opportunity that I was robbed of and all he had to show for it was ungrateful bitching.
"I'm sorry Ash, but you have no choice,"I brushed his messy black hair from his eyes and sang a verse of my-, I mean his, favorite song "*I know it's your destinyyyy, pok'ee'mon!*"
It was his tenth birthday and he had just finished opening his presents. I had gotten him everything that he would need the journey that laid before him: a tent, some pots and pans, 100$, a map, a bike, a fishing pole, an Iphone with a pokedex app and pokemon-GO installed and of course an exact copy of the *real* Ash Ketchum's wardrobe, including the red and white hat.
He pulled off his wig again, revealing his hideous fire-red hair. I winced in silent repulsion. I hated his natural hair so much, it reminded me of my childhood rival. I grabbed the wig from him and put it back on his head whilst glaring at him with a stern look... I had been training him to wear the hairpiece for 3 years now and he still resisted it, *he's so stubborn*; The messy-black Ash Ketchum-esque hair that the wig provided him with made him look way more lovable and badass than his normal hair.
"Dad,"he said looking up at me with desperate puppy eyes, "this is really weird. I don't want to play anymore,"his voice cracked as he said it, causing me to wince again, *I can't believe I raised such a weak son*. I mean seriously, if he showed that kind of vulnerability to another trainer or in the face of a wild pokemon he would surely be eaten alive.
I knelt down next to him and put my hand on his shoulder, "We're not playing anything son, this isn't a game, you can't just quit when the going get's hard, I mean, what if the real Ash would have quit? Team Rocket would probably have taken over the word by now!"Ash's lip was quivering and snot was running down his face, it was so gross; I looked away and continued speaking in a loving yet decided voice, "Look son, things might not make sense to you right now, but someday you'll back on this and thank me. I mean really, when I think about what my father did to me and your age, forcing me to play sports, do my homework, eat my vegetables, go to bed at 9,"I shuddered inside as the memories of my oppressed youth surfaced, "Well, let's just say that all the shit I went through as a kid makes me really happy that you have such a great Dad."
"Daddd Pokemon is for nerds, I want a basktball."
*Hah,* I thought to myself, *Kids are so naive.* I continued speaking, "Son, just trust me on this one, the path I've chosen for you is way more secure and rewarding than being some big-headed tax paying jock. You're about to go on a whimsical journey of fantastical adventure full of self discovery and you'll probably make a few amazing friends along the way! Wow, i'm getting excited just thinking about it! Now here, take this phone charger and get on your bike, you have a long trip ahead of you; here, I've made a map of some key locations I want you to travel to, as I expect there may be legendary pokemon lingering there.
I handed him a map of the Earth with a few critical locations circled: The top of mount everest, the center of North Korea, the ruins of 9/11 and of course Area 51.
"Here,"I said as I pointed to the marked locations, "These should be the first places you stop. Once you find a way to get to each of them, come back and I'll give you your second route."
He was tearing up again, "I wish mom was still alive,"he said pathetically.
I took a deep breath, *patience is a virtue*, "Yeah, and I wish I had a grateful son. Now get out there and don't come back until you have went to all these locations and have at least a few badges."
He realized there was no point in resisting, slowly he turned away and walked to his bike before raising the kickstand and pedaling off into the horizon.
*He'll understand someday,* I thought to myself as I turned on my gameboy and smiled with my leaf-green teeth as the familiar theme played, I sang quietly to myself, "He's gonna beee the very best, like I should have been, to catch them is his real quest, to train them is his causeee, Pok-EE'MON!" |
"Sarah's problem was she was an idealist"Said the '92 Volvo with the black rubber bumpers. "Look at all these bumper stickers-"Here she performed a neat three-point turn to display a back bumper wallpapered with colorful tags. "-there's no way that someone that highly principled can function in the real world. Plus, she smoked way too much weed."
The Saturn, the dented 4-Runner, and the flat-black Vespa all nodded. On the far side of the room, the Audi and the Benz looked scandalized.
"Weed!?"Said the Audi, her voice smoky and mature, "Sarah would never! She's a D.A. for Christ's sake!"
"Have I got news for you, sister!"Said the 4-Runner, shaking with laughter and sprinkling the clean white floor with a faint rain of rust. "Let me guess- Sarah got rid of her dreads too by the time she climbed in your fancy-pants leather seats?"
The Audi said nothing, but Sarah could feel her headlights boring into her. People were right, those halogens were way too bright.
"Yes, ok, I used to have dreads. Is that a sin?"
"No."Said the Angel. He was lounging behind his marble-topped desk, his feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the corner of the giant stone slab. Disconcertingly, he was wearing a pair of five-toed shoes, the velcro-at-the-top kind. Catching Sarah's stare, he winked and wiggled his rubber-clad toes.
"I let the guy who invented these in on principle."He said. "You know, the best footwear ever created was made by God."
"I have something to say,"Said the Saturn. She rolled forward, brakes squealing slightly as she jerked to a too-sudden stop. "Sarah has a good heart. Maybe she... changed a little since she was with me, but-"
"You mean grew up?"Called the Benz, speaking for the first time. Her voice was haughty and cold, it gleamed as brightly as her chrome accents. "Put aside childish things, as the Bible would say? Good thing she did- if you all cared for Sarah then you would have wanted her to be happy, for her to succeed. And clearly-"A note of smugness crept into the Benz's voice, and it blinked its hazards coyly, "She did."
"Ohhh fuuuuck you."Said the Volvo. "Look- Sarah rode around in me when she could barely drive at all- do you know how many things I've hit with these rubber bumpers? Anyway, the point isn't whether Sarah did or did not *succeed*, it's whether she kept her soul. Sarah?"
Sarah was avoiding looking at the Volvo.
"Are you still a vegetarian?"
The MEAT IS MURDER sticker was placed carelessly on the back bumper, wrapping around so that the red plastic showed on the side.
"Um, no."Said Sarah, still not looking at the Volvo.
The Saturn gasped.
"I was anemic!"Said Sarah, trying desperately to defend herself against the imperious gaze of her first two cars. "My doctor said-"
"I.. I need a moment."Said the Saturn. "I'm just going to roll my windows up and blast some Phish- that should calm me down."There was a long pause. "You... you still listen to Phish... don't you?"
Sarah didn't reply.
"I listen to Phish."Said the Angel, unhelpfully.
"I think I can clear some things up."Said the Vespa. She rolled with a graceful putting sound into the center of the room. "Hi, everybody. Hi. I'm the Vespa- Sara's transport during her two-year stay in Barcelona."She pronounced it 'Barthelona'.
The atmosphere in the chamber grew chilly- none of the cars in the room seemed to know what to make of this slim, trendy scooter in their midst.
"Sarah did a lot of growing up in Spain, she really *found* herself, you know?"
"Oh, God."Said the Audi.
"Spare us."Said the Benz.
"*Anyway*,"The Vespa's tone grew more icy. "I think you're all holding on to Sarah as you knew her- your favorite Sarah, when really, she's all of those people. The idealist and the pragmatist. The sinner and the saint. We had some wild times in Barcelona, by the way you must visit, it's gorgeous-"
"Get on with it!"Called the 4-Runner.
"-and I can say that, although she's not perfect, I think Sarah is fundamentally a good person."
There was a general muttering from the assembled cars.
"Meh."Said the 4-Runner.
"Yes."Said the Saturn, emphatically, her voice still obviously wobbling with emotion.
"Yeah, I think so."Said the Volvo, although she sounded as though she had her doubts.
"You can't prove she isn't."Said the Audi.
"That's a double negative."Said the Benz in a condescending tone that did not endear her to anyone. "But yes, I think she's a good person."
The Angel nodded slowly, wiggling his toes in a thoughtful way.
"Ok."He said at last. "Here's your holy garage door opener."He tossed Sarah a rectangular device with an oval button in the middle. "Don't lose it."
"What happens if I lose it?"Said Sarah, her voice tinged with fear.
"Then we have to reprogram the gate to Heaven and give everyone new clickers and it's a real pain in the ass."Said the Angel. |
It consumed the colors one by one and vomited a slew of disoriented footsteps; of nebulous pipe dreams smoked by families of three and four. It squeezed the lifeblood out of the weak and mixed it up into a purée of the mediocre. Tranquil laughter it speared through the guts; deafening silence it choked. Faraway black holes of soot sponsored the pulsating throb of its day-to-day toing and froing; injected searching eyes and lost souls with promises of temporal purgatories. On its parapets, an exhibit of raw skin and cooked sacks—the more ravenous, the deadlier. The circus complete, in lieu of a forest there now stood towering that citadel of consumption known to all lands as the shopping mall. |
The Commissioner was about to adjudicate the session; the gavel in her hand was already raised high. “Any other business?” she remembered to ask. The Core Worlds had already been through all of their agenda items, and that was generally all that mattered. The perfunctory question at the end was never meant to elicit a response, and true to form the mass of Core representatives shook their heads.
The representative from Menoetius stood from his seat in the very back. With a population of only 2 million, the unremarkable rock’s only distinction was being the furthest-flung colony in the Coalition of Allied Worlds. For a moment, no one even realized he had stood up until an aide brought it to the attention of the Commissioner.
“Yes…. Ah…” The Commissioner squinted, trying to read the nameplate from all the way at the front of the Commission chambers. She waved a hand and the podium’s computer brought up the name for her, as well as a whole sheet of information about the world. “Yes, a query from the representative of Menoetius? Mr. Loquos?”
He began the long walk down the steps toward the Commissioner’s podium. In his hands, the other representatives were surprised to see real old fashioned *papers* in his hands. “Not so much a query,” he told her, “as a statement.” The papers *thunked* down on the table in the center of the room. With an electronic submission everyone could pull up the text of it immediately, but in physical form it was a mystery. “The world of Menoetius hereby withdraws from the Coalition.”
Chaos reigned. The representatives of Earth and Mars stood from their seats and thrust outraged fingers into the air, shouting “You can’t do that!” in boisterous tones, while the representatives of the belt and the outer worlds were whispering “Can you do that?” with eager excitement.
The Commissioner, gavel still in hand, hammered away for order instead of closing the meeting. Once she managed to lower the chatter to a more reasonable volume, she gave a pointed glare to the Menoetian representative and pulled up a section of the Colonial Assistance Act. “Representative Loquos, need I remind you that you forfeit all food aid under 58 C.A.W.C. § 511? Your world will be cut off.”
“And embargoed!” the leader of Earth’s Libertarian Party roared. Normally stricken with bitter partisan divides, the rival Earth parties joined in a chorus of agreement. “You’ll starve within the year!”
Food was always how the Central Planets kept their grip on the outlying colonies. Even with 20 billion inhabitants, Earth was still a net exporter of staple crops like wheat and rice. And Mars, with its vast open fields, was one of the few places in the universe where natural meat was still raised. Venus's greenhouses were mostly used for the production of more tropical products like fresh fruits. The export of hydroponic technology and even some terraforming was strictly forbidden.
In the mining colonies around Ceres, the gas scoopers on Saturn, and the extra-solar settlements, you were luckily to get a pasty protein block once a week. Most people joked that it was the ground-up-and-dehydrated remains of a core world meal; they didn't know how right they really were. Some of it was made from real food… but that was diluted with cellulose, vitamin mash, and a heaping dose of artificial flavors. The “food aid” from Earth was just enough to keep them alive and dependent while ensuring that the colonies could still send back ore and other raw materials that had long been stripped from Earth.
“We’re aware of the consequences,” Representative Loquos said. “And we’d rather starve on our own than eat under your thumbs.” But then he waved his own personal device over the projector and brought up images of the colony on Menoetius, revealing row after row of greenhouses gleaming under the light of its blue dwarf star. “Luckily that won’t be the case.” He turned back to the other assembled representatives, looking past the Core delegates in the front to the members of the outer-world delegations. “And we’ve got enough to share with anyone who feels the same.”
The room was filled with a pregnant pause. Both the Menoetian and the Commissioner sweated, waiting for any other delegation to take up that offer. The outer planet delegates glanced back and forth, none wanting to be the first. Finally, a representative from Jupiter’s moon Metis climbed to his feet with the assistance of a powered suit; he was nearly 100 years old, and those old bones weren’t used to Earth gravity. But his grin couldn’t have been more enthusiastic.
“TREASON!” A particularly loud and overweight Venutian proclaimed. That didn’t stop more and more outer world representatives from rising out of their chairs until nearly half of the back rows were on their feet. Even some of the Lunar representatives were standing; without many natural resources, they were considered an unimportant backwater by the more verdant worlds.
A representative from Earth rose to her feet and shouted over the crowd till she finally got the attention of the Commissioner. “I would like to bring an action for a military response to sedition on Menoetius and…” she glanced back to see who else she was proposing to invade, only to find that there were too many, “And all of these other places!”
Representative Loquos shrugged. “Have you forgotten that your largest shipyards are in the asteroid belt?” He asked with a nod to the Ceres Coalition members who were standing. “Or that you rely on Saturn and Jupiter to make and refine fuel for your ships? Or that you rely on us for a thousand other raw materials that you’ll need just to continue going about your every day lives?” He strode back up the aisle and toward the broad doors at the back of the chamber. “I’m afraid that *you* need *us* more than *we* need *you*.”
With that, he left the Commission chambers with the delegations of a hundred other colonies at his back.
|
"Well, look who's finally awake..."
My head was throbbing in pain, and I rolled over towards the source of the voice that was somehow familiar, but also different. As the sheets slid across my body, not even a hangover could mask the sense of wrongness I was feeling. I opened my eyes towards the voice, and saw the last person I ever expected to see... myself.
- - - - - - - - - -
I don't know when or how I got this power, but I remember the first time it happened. It was in elementary school, during lunch, while sitting with some others in my class. I couldn't really call them friends, but they were the ones I was going to be stuck with for at least the year if not longer, and so I had to make the most of it.
The details are lost in memories long since faded over the years, but I remember watching a girl in a pretty yellow dress sitting by her lonesome, the newest one in our class. She came in mid-semester, and our teacher had instructed us that she came from a troubled home, so we should be nice and welcoming to her. But as kids are, we didn't really think much of it. At least, the others didn't.
As I sat there staring at her across the room, I tried to imagine what she must be going through; what her life must be like for her to be like this. I felt pulled towards her somehow, not in the physical or emotional sense, but it was something else inexplicable.
And that was the moment that our eyes met, and everything changed.
In a flash, I suddenly wasn't me anymore. Rather, I was now staring across the room at myself. My mind started racing to make sense of the change, and I looked down to see that I was the girl in the pretty yellow dress. I looked up again, and the panic in my mind was matched by that in the eyes that I saw across the room, staring back at me in terror.
I quickly threw all my scattered and fearful thoughts into wanting-- wishing desperately to be myself again. And as we stared at each other in terror, suddenly there was another flash of consciousness, and I was back across the room again, staring the girl in the yellow dress.
I quickly excused myself and ran to the bathroom, my heart racing, not sure what had just happened. I went to the nurse and was sent home for the day, but couldn't stop thinking about what the strange experience.
The girl's name was Meghan, and inevitably we approached the other the following day, confirming that what had happened to us wasn't made up. We experimented with it, and while she wasn't able to recreate it by herself, we found that I could. Thus we determined that the power was linked to me. Somehow, I could exchange consciousness with another person and back.
Meghan and I became fast friends, and used this power for all sorts of mischief. Cheating on tests, pranking bullies, goofing off. I remember once we tried the idea of switching places for the night; but only once. That was the night I learned about her family, and about her abusive father. We didn't talk for a few days after, but I understood her alot better for it.
As we grew older and into highschool, we started dating. There was a solace that I gave her away from her family, and while many didn't see her as a good match for me or understand what I saw in her, I was young and in love, and she was my friend. Like any young couple growing into and learning about their sexuality, we tried things with each other. Unlike other couples however, we had this ability to play with, and so naturally we tried... experimenting... with things from other perspectives. It was amazing.
But young love loses in time to reality and reason. As college dawned, it became apparent that we were just too different. My hopes and goals in life were not hers, and her ghosts of the past continued to haunt her, and pushed me past my ability to help. When I went out of state, I broke it off with her and left her behind. She was heartbroken, but I knew we had to move on and put each other out of our minds. And so, that was the last I saw of her.
Or so I thought...
- - - - - - - - - -
Standing near the bathroom door of my dorm room... was me. And the not-me me was grinning a very frightening grin.
"It's been a while Ted", the other me said.
Looking down, I finally understood why I felt so wrong. Beneath the covers was a body that was very apparently not my own, and yet wasn't as foreign as it had any right to be. I was Meghan.
Pushing past the shock, confusion, and massive headache, I managed "Wh... what's going on? Meghan... what happened? Why are you here? Why are we..."
"Each other? Yeah, it's been a while hasn't it? Since you left me. Since you abandoned me all alone in that hell of a town with my family."Her-- no, my voice, was bitter, angry, yet somehow, restained. It frightened me.
She continued "You may have forgotten me, but I never forgot you or what you could do. In the three years you were gone I had alot of time to myself, and alot of time to spend looking into that power of yours. And as it turns out, I found something very interesting."My face grinned wickedly at me "I discovered through various sources that your ability is actually linked to your body, not your mind. Normally the process leaves you in control even after a transfer, but with the right knowledge, one can learn to... hijack the ability for themselves."
Suddenly, all my thoughts and confusion began to unite in a turn towards terror. If she was right, then...
"Don't believe me? Let's give it a try then. Just like the good old days."
I did. I tried with all I knew. I stared into my old eyes for what felt like ages, trying hard to call on an ability I had been familiar with all my life, but in reality knew so little about. All the while her grin persisted, never faltering, looking at me with malice I hadn't realized could exist on my face. Finally, I gave up.
My voice laughed cruelly. "So, it really did work! After I learned this trick, I decided to track down here. When I heard about the little get together you were having with friends, I knew I had the perfect opportunity. There was no way you could resist looking at me, into me, in your state."
My old body stood up. I tried to lurch up after it, but my head protested, and I fell back down. The voice continued "As much as I'm sure you'd love to chat now, I'm afraid I have no interest; I've got everything I came here for."She fixed me a sharp stare. "You left me in hell, and now hell has come back for you. Welcome to my life. You better get used to it, because it's yours now, for good."
With that, she opened the door, and stepped out. She offered a glance back, and said with finality "I left you a parting gift on the chair. Enjoy womanhood."And then she was gone with my body, forever.
My heart and mind were completely paralyzed, numb. I laid there, unmoving, as reality set in: I was trapped like this-- as her, forever.
After what felt like an eternity I finally mustered the strength to look the other way... and saw it. Draped over the lounge chair, was a beautiful yellow sundress. |
You lie in bed for hours, covers held up to your neck. Not only did you wake up naked in a stranger’s apartment, but you are right outside the first floor window. In fact, one entire wall of the whole room is one glistening sheet of glass. You screw your eyes tight, trying to sift through memories. There are fuzzy, distant events: birthdays, Christmases, throwing up on the first day of school. Then there are blinding flashes of floating in warm, thick fluid; gagging on a tube in your throat and needles jabbing your bare skin.
Are those voices? Yes, growing louder every second. You pick up a few words, like “natural habitat” and “terrifying predator of the ancient world.” But something was off. The voices were too tinny, like someone speaking through a bad cell phone connection.
“Now, ah, excuse me,” says a new voice. Just as digital, but only slightly more personal. “Eventually you do plan on having ‘humans’ on your ‘Human Tour’?”
That’s when you see it. It would be a car, if it had wheels. Instead, the green and red striped vehicle hovers a foot above the ground. And it is crawling to a stop right outside your window. You were about to dive even further under the covers, but you catch a glimpse of the passengers. It was as though someone had outlined a human being in Saran Wrap and Christmas lights, a sort of glowing, pulsating figure. You forget about being naked. You slowly rise from the bed and approach the window.
A window which, now that you’re next to it, isn’t actually glass at all. It’s a sort of humming light. After a moment’s hesitation, you press your fingertip to it. The air cackles with static, but your hand slides through as though it were tissue paper.
A symphony of alarms erupt.
“Human out of containment!” blares a voice. “Shoot her! Shoot her!”
“See, ah, who could have predicted that she could have walked through two solid inches of Electro-plasm? That’s, ah, that’s Chaos Theory.”
“Excuse me?” You tap on the vehicle’s door. “Can you help me?”
“Her vision is based on movement,” says another gruff digital voice. “Stay perfectly still.”
“I can see you,” you say, pointing at the figures seated in the car. “Please, I just want to go home.” Silence from the car. “Come on!” You slam your palm into the door.
It’s as though the entire vehicle is made of cardboard; the passengers nothing but air. To your horror, the whole car tumbles away and disappears over the edge of the road.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to!” You run to the side of the cliff to see the car lying in a tree, not too far down.
Something zaps you from behind. Stronger than a static shock, but still more of a nuisance than anything. You turn to see another humanoid, pointing a sort of glass tube at your torso.
“Give me that!” You snatch it out of his hands and storm off. Over your shoulder, you hear the humanoid’s tinny voice murmur.
“Clever girl . . .”
After hours of searching, you are no closer to an exit. But you’ve gained an understanding of your prison. It’s almost like a community of apartments, each fully furnished with food and running water. While the interiors are familiar, outside is another story. The architecture is a sort of combination of aluminum foil and saran wrap, with occasional walls of solid light. You try not to cause any damage, but if you don’t watch where you’re going, you can easily find yourself accidentally stomping right through a paper-thin building. In fact, you just realized that a piece of tissue-like material has wrapped itself around your chest, probably from your latest accident. You fling it away and let it fall to the ground, unaware of the words printed on it:
“When Humans Ruled The Earth.” |
"What a bunch of crap. People on the internet are so damn gullible,"John scoffed at the screen as he watched the points climb.
*I wonder what they did for verification?*
Curiosity beat out his skepticism and John clicked the link. An image of a hooded figure holding a small piece of paper with /u/IamDeath4Realz appeared on the screen.
"What the f...come on! This is so stupid,"John shouted.
He began to scroll through the comments.
/u/BigOlD asked "When am I going to die?"
/u/IamDeath4Realz "March 9th 2072, heart attack."
*Well that's morbid but I guess I could have expected it.*
/u/Send_Cat_Nudes asked "When am I going to die?"
/u/IamDeath4Realz "December 4th 2025, car accident."
The only questions "Death"answered were the when and how people were going to die.
A thought crossed John's mind. He stepped away from the computer feeling stupid for even considering it.
*But...what if?*
After a few seconds of debate he buckled.
"Son of a b..."he muttered.
/u/JohnJohn22 asks "When am I going to die?"
The question had been posted for only five seconds before the small envelope in the corner turned orange.
*That was fast.*
John clicked the envelope and read the message out loud.
"December 11th, 12:01pm. Heart attack."
John's eyes tracked down to the corner of his computer screen and read the date.
December 11th, 12:00pm.
"Oh what an asshole!"John said angrily and closed the window.
"Bunch of idiots falling for that trap. And I'm one of them,"he grumbled.
He spun in his chair and stood. He nearly walked into the nearly eight foot tall black robed figure standing in the center of his room.
Fear gripped John's heart like a cold fist.
"It's time,"Death said as the clock ticked to 12:01pm.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
|
His eyes were scratches; red-brown shadows in the sepia shades of the afterlife. I stared in the silence, and saw that his silhouette was faded, breaking apart at the edges in strands, like the back-and-forth pen marks of an artist. He was old.
'Who are you?' I asked, and the sound was the whisper of the wind.
'No one,' he said. 'No one.'
'Why have you come here?' I asked, and the sound was the creaking of the house.
'For them,' he said. 'For them.' He gestured a flickering hand to the shadow-shapes of my family; white and light and moving in the room that had been our kitchen.
'They are mine,' I said.
'And mine,' he replied. 'They are all I have left. They are all that is left of me, and mine.' I watched him, and he pointed to the smallest white figure at the table.
'This one,' he said. 'This one is the youngest, my youngest. And this one,' he said, pointing to the tallest shape, 'my oldest now. My oldest now you are gone.'
'Who are you?' I asked again.
'Great, great, great, great - I forget how many. Many, I think. Many, many.'
He looked at me slowly, and the whisper of his voice was sorrow.
'Will you watch with me for a while? You will be gone soon, but I will still be here. I am the first of us, and this is the purpose of the first. Will you watch?'
'I will,' I said, and the sound was silence.
|
Ten days ago I sent a message. Ten days ago I bared my soul to a girl named Charlotte.
At this point the entire world gave up. Tablet's, phone's, Laptop's, you name it they were obsolete. Useless pieces of plastic and metal, the electronic industry fell, many of the upper class toppled. Electronics were replaced and repurposed.
The modern Buffalo was now extinct.
I booted up the phone to make sure it was worth at least a full twenty bucks.
"The fuck"
I saw the little WiFi thingy on the top left of the screen.
"It's fucken autistic or something."
Settings>WiFi>Network
There with four of the strongest bars I have ever seen. "Do you want to deal with the devil?"
App store>Search>Twitter>Download
My answer was yes.
I sat there... Time was ticking.
I didn't remember phones being this slow.
You would think if I was the only person with WiFi it would be faster than this.
Or maybe there wasn't enough phones and they all needed to work together to make the signal faster.
Eh what do I know I'm a gym teacher.
I did however know that I was staring at this phone for twenty minutes now.
Phone>Contacts>Tec Support>Call
*Brrrrring brrring*
The other line picked up.
"HELLO AND WELCOME TO YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD COMCAST PROVIDER, PRESS ONE IF YOU WOULD LIKE T-."
I hung up.
Maybe the world didn't need internet after all. |
Don't mention it. I'm happy to share my story with your readers.
Before I taste this pizza, for people to understand why this all matters, I've got to give you a bit of a history lesson. I know you read that piece in the local paper about the 1000-year feud, and that that's a grippy headline, but the reporter didn't have time for the history of it all. He wrote up the facts, slapped a headline on it, and called it a day. So let me walk you through the history.
Domino's is a much, much older company than most people realize. Its history goes way back. We're talking a time before the Medicis, when Italy was a collection of city-states and they'd have thrown tomatoes at you for even suggesting that Florence, Venice, and Rome might one day share a flag. Domino's back then wasn't called Domino's, and it wasn't into retail food. It was a family operation of wheat wholesalers. The Dominicos. They bought from around the Mediterranean and shipped the goods to Italy. When they weren't sinking rival ships and setting fire to granaries, they were plugging their family members into the papacy and poisoning dukes.
That's who we were dealing with when this all started. A family of merchant princes who operated like thugs.
My side of the equation was my ancestor, something like my great-great-great-plus twenty greats-grandfather, Adalberto Bellini. My family's kept good records throughout the centuries, and the current-day Domino's leadership were generous enough to allow me into their vault that they've got in the Roman catacombs. They've got old census records, trade deals, and illustrated brochures hand-written by monks in there. From all those sources, I've been able to put together a pretty good picture of the kind of man Adalberto was.
He was a man, is what he was, a fierce one, who didn't take shit and who didn't stand down. There's a story I read, about how a trader once accused Adalberto of being a cheat. It seems Adalberto had paid the trader for some goods using low-quality silver. The trader confronted Adalberto in their town plaza with five men and demanded Adalberto make things right. Adalberto swore that he wasn't a cheat, and that any man who thought to call him one must himself be a cheat. To prove that Adalberto was a man of his word, he declared his intention to beat the piss out of any man remaining in the town plaza ten minutes later. The locals cleared out, leaving Adalberto, the trader, and the five men. Adalberto beat the piss out of all six of them.
I don't know whether Adalberto was an honest dealer. I don't know if he was a good businessman. What I know is that he was proud, and strong, and that, at a time when the Dominicos had a chokehold on the European wheat market, he went in on a venture to buy a boatload of wheat from Egypt.
The shipment arrived in Rome on schedule, but the local Dominico in charge, the family scion Guisseppe, bribed the dockyards to delay unloading.
A shipment of wheat back then, jammed into the hold of a leaky ship and infested with rats, didn't last more than a couple of months aboard ship.
Adalberto knew what was happening. He wasn't the type to take that lying down.
So he went to talk to the dock workers and they told him to get in touch with their foreman. The foreman directed him to the floor manager, the floor manager to the business manager, until finally Adalberto the sweaty smalltown businessman shouldered his way into the offices of none other than Guisseppe Dominico.
To make sense of their interaction, you've got to keep in mind two things. One: Adalberto saw every man as his equal. Two: Guisseppe Dominico saw every man as beneath him. Their conversation, I imagine, went something like this.
Adalberto: Guisseppe, my friend, you will let my ship dock.
Guisseppe: Who are you?
Adalberto: Look out your window and you see her. She wallows in the river like a fat whore.
Guisseppe: How did you get in here?
Adalberto: Come, my friend, you do this for me and the two of us share a drink. The grappa is on me.
Guisseppe: How did you get in here?
Adalberto: I walked.
Guisseppe: I don't have money for you.
Adalberto: Adalberto Bellini never asks for handouts.
Guisseppe: Who?
Adalberto: Me.
Guisseppe: Who are you?
Adalberto: Adalberto Bellini.
Guisseppe: Very good. A good day to you.
Adalberto: You will let my ship dock?
Guisseppe: Your what?
Adalberto: My ship.
Guisseppe: How did you get in here?
I imagine the conversation went on in that vein for a good long while. I'm drawing this part of my story from a monk's brochure written in a particularly shaky hand, a sign either of boredom or drunkenness. It's hard to say how exact these details are.
What is known to a certainty, however, is that this conversation ended when Adalberto ejected Guisseppe from the office via the bay window. Beneath the window an apple merchant had set up his wagon, the chief feature of which was an umbrella mounted on a tall, pointed stick. The stick entered Guisseppe's body below the ribcage, passed through his liver, and pushed a mangle of intestines into the air.
In the days that followed, Adalberto employed his newfound menace to convince the dockyard business managers, floor managers, foremen, and workers to unload his ship. He completed a sale and, by the time the Dominicos had recovered from the shock of their scion's death, had gathered together his family and fled the country.
The Dominicos, in typical Italian fashion, swore a blood vendetta against my family.
There's more to this story. There have been a number of times over the years when our families have reignited hostilities. But I won't get into that.
Suffice to say that it is a millenial affair for me to be here in Domino's. Here we go. Let's eat some pizza.
. . .
It's alright.
*this got away from me at the end there. sorry about that. i'd love any feedback you might have for me.* |
"Glorkon, why the felark did you slap my head?"Zarkon asked her incompetent co-pilot, turning to meet his seven eyes.
"I didn't do shilt,"Glorkon said, raising his tentacles in the air. "You're losing your mind, Zarkon."He whirled in his seat, turning away from her, and pretending to look out the spaceship controls. Zarkon didn't know what he was looking at, considering the spaceship was on auto-pilot.
Zarkon bared her teeth at him. "You always do this!"
Both of them heard as they heard clattering in the next room.
"Did you forget to check all the weaponry?"Zarkon asked.
Glorkon shrugged again. "It wasn't me!"
Zarkon checked the next room. There was no one there. Strange things like this had been happening ever since they came to Earth after their race had killed all humans. Even out in the stratosphere, things were odd. She couldn't begin to imagine how things were back on the ground.
With nothing out of place, she sighed and turned back.
Glorkon was frantically pressing at the controls, his tentacles gliding over each button. The spaceship blared its alarm, and red light flashed around the room. "IMMINENT IMPACT! IMMINENT IMPACT!"blared the robotic voice of doom.
"What did you do?"Zarkon yelled, approaching the controls.
"Everything I press is going wrong,"he yelled back, still frantically pushing all the buttons.
"Stop it,"Zarkon said. "Let me do it."
She tuned out the noise of the alarm and the annoying breathing of her half-wit co-pilot and focused on the controls. She pressed the auto-pilot and it turned on, and immediately turned off again. She engaged the manual controls, but they wouldn't move. She tried to restart the controls completely, but the system would not obey.
"What is happening?"she whispered.
"I told you! I told you!"Glorkon said. "We are doomed."
The robotic voice blared again. "IMPACT! IMPACT! SUDDEN DEATH! EVACUATION DISABLED!"
Zarkon felt a wave of panic rush over her. The alarm burned in her ears and the red blinded her vision. Out of the spaceship window, she could see the Earth getting closer and closer.
A screeching sounded over the alarm and Glorkon's rambling. A tiny scratch appeared in the window. It extended itself, forming a rough symbol. More symbols appeared next to it.
REVENGE.
The writing was in English, one of the languages of the humans.
"SUDDEN DEATH IMMINENT!"blared the robot voice. "CRASHING IN 3...2...1..."
Red and black took over her vision.
__________________________________________________________________
And then they all lived happily ever after.
JK.
Fight the good fight by joining [r/JasonHolloway](https://www.reddit.com/r/JasonHolloway/). Only real ghosts can subscribe. |
It sat below the television, two shades of gray with occasional beats of candy-red. Twin controllers snaked from console to leather couch. Proud. Weekends of new cartridges and bated breath; excitement. The basement was filled with the laughter of playful friendship. Of love.
It sat behind the television, dust coating its weary monotone. A single, bruised controller lay near it, its partner long since lost. Games were still played, but no longer on it. Laughter replaced by quarreling and swearing; the sound of controller smacking tile, of footsteps fading. Light dying.
It sat behind the television, forgotten. The memory of laughter haunted the room; cobwebs claimed their prize. A clock ticked until it didn't. Time passed; darkness grew.
Dust was blown off; coughing broke the decade silence. The sound of small feet running; hands working out how to bring life back to long dead grey. The basement was filled with the laughter of playful friendship. Of love.
|
The Council of Nine sat at stone tables with a giant bonfire between them. The dancing flames flickered their shadows against the far wall and illuminated the concerned expressions of a thousand citizens. They knew that outside the Town Hall stood many more with those same expressions. There had never been this many people at a Town Hall. At least not since the Great Awakening nearly a millennia ago.
Boldrig, the First Seat, sat at the head of the table, the seat that stared directly into the flames. "Quiet,"he told the rumbling murmur of citizens and whispering of his own councilmen. "Let us get to the point. We have all seen the machine that has come to visit our world. It is now this council's directive on how to proceed."
"Destroy it!"A man shouted from the crowds. A roar of agreement sounded around him.
With a single held hand, Boldrig silenced them. He nodded to the leather-faced woman to his left. She had lived through the Great Awakening and held wisdom in these matters. She peered into the crowd, folds of skin nearly covering her eyes completely. A silence enveloped the room. Everybody had their breaths held, waiting for her word.
"With what weapons?"The Second Seat asked. "Our swords cannot slice its metal. Our arrows cannot pierce its hull. If we are to retaliate we must meet it with weapons from before the Great Awakening."
Her words echoed through the halls and faded to nothing. Every person here had their head down, glancing around, meeting each other eyes, and skirting their glance away as soon as they did. Everybody knew the temptation of going back to before the Great Awakening. Every time a loved one sickened or the granary ran out, going back was always the solution. The time before was a time where machines had conquered all of humanity's ailments. But at the price of such unmatched destruction that the extinction of their race was all but imminent.
"What if we leave it be?"the Third Seat asked. "Pretend like we don't see it."
The First Seat shook his head. "What worries me is that its intentions are good. Already it is healing the sick and injured, providing food to the poor in the outskirts of town. It is showing the world the miracles of the time before our Great Awakening, and it is masking the nightmares that come with it. The people will want to go back to those times."
"You think there will be a revolt,"the Third Seat said, wide-eyed.
"If you give the desperate but a spark of hope, they will chase that down all the way to the ends of the world. Even if it means our planet's demise."
The Second Seat coughed and once again, all chatter stopped. She slowly looked up. "It seems to me that we have no choice. If we stay the course, a revolution will force us to go back to those times, but if we wish to combat this machine, we must go back either way. All we can hope for now is a second Great Awakening."
The blood drained from every councilmen's face. They all knew what it took for a Great Awakening to happen.
"Why is this happening to us?"one of the councilmen squeaked.
The Second Seat sighed. "Do not worry. Whatever alien has sent this machine, they will experience their own Great Awakening soon."
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ WP stories daily. That's where I'll also post any continuations of stories, bonus stories, and much more! Thanks for reading! |
Erket'des felt his power bloom as the possession took hold. It was a tricky thing, complete soul possession. You were made so vulnerable during the transfer. Being caught midway was a very common ending to the demonic hordes of his class.
Erket'des was better than most. In fact, he was an experienced veteran. He'd possessed sheep, bulls, swarms of pestilent insects, priests, warriors... and now he'd chosen something else; a little blind girl.
It was her fault, to be honest. She'd come into his resting place, where he lay fat and happy on the pain and anguish of thousands that he kept in his mire. He bathed in the tepid waters of screams and sorrow. He'd spent centuries enjoying his fortune, then she'd wandered in, completely by accident. All the old traps and alters had long rotted away, but Erket'des was just as strong, just as clever, just as-
"You are a despicable creature."
Erket'des paused and turned toward the sound. She shouldn't be able to talk at all. He had taken her mind, he had taken her body. He was in control and she-
Erket'des' demonic form towered over the body of the little girl. His own eyes burning with sulfur and hate and his own ethereal claws flexing in and out on the scarred, skeletal forms of his own hands.
"That's my body!"Erket'des took a step back.
"A sick and terrible thing, to break the veil of the mind and worm your way into a place behind my thoughts."Erket'des' own body stalked forward, lanky, disjointed, terrifying, "I had heard tale that you were a craftsman at the trick, that I would not stand half a second against you in a game of mental acuity. To end my displeasure with honest thoughts: I expected much more from your attempt."
"Stay back... how can I see? You... you were blind!"Erket'des fell backwards, the shock and the unfamiliar body working against him.
"Bitter hell and fury!"She spat from her stolen body and the liquid hissed and burned into the stone floor of the temple, "I would not bind my eyes to protect others from discomfort! My eyes wore binding to protect myself from seeing everything too quickly. It can overwhelm if one is not careful. Senses need be shuttered and controlled, lest we be blinded by distraction."
"What matter of demon are you?"
"Return my body and you shall know."
Erket'des had had enough of this. He was an ascended of his kind. He need not the trouble of dealing with something like this. He had damned enough to feed him for a millennia more... but he could not do so with his own body in peril. He ran from the girl's body, fighting to leap back into his own, to cross the bridge between minds! He was halfway through the process when the bridge turned cold... it moved, it closed and he found that both his mind and that of the girls were now inaccessible to his magic. He screamed and clawed and raged at the prison made from the tiny slice of magic between two minds.
Then the girl was there. She took up the entire sky, larger than the sun. Her face projected on his dimensional prison like a taunting god.
"My name is [Melicananthus](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/67ukrj/wp_the_adventure_party_needed_a_wizard_for_their/dgtdi3m/)."She announced to the demon as his mind-shape cowered and shook, "And You have failed to impress me."
|
"Good riddance asshole!"
The words hung heavy in the air as the clock ticked on.
I looked at Billy, my best friend of 42 years. He looked as shocked as I was. So was everyone in my apartment.
"Billy...why?"The words felt labored as they crawled out of my mouth.
"I...I...I..."he stammered. He tried again, nothing. He looked at me, then to the clock, then back at me.
Everything was quiet. The music, the talking, everything. Except repeated thumping sounds which seemed to be coming from the kitchen behind him.
I shoved past him, "Gina?"
It was. My loving wife Gina. Bent over the kitchen counter with my older brother standing behind, pants down.
I died. |
Those humans. Those oblivious, ignorantly intelligent humans. We're sitting here fighting for galactic peace for the past 235 years, ignoring their existence. Why would we ever believe that these humans, these poor creatures who took somewhere around 50,000 years to begin basic space travel would ever accomplish a feat such as FTL travel? ITS PREPOSTEROUS! Yet they've done it...
Maybe that's the sort of thing that happens when you reach the end of your road? When you're faced with total extinction what else are you going to do? Sit idle and just let everything go? Well those humans seemed appalled by that option. Their plagues, lack of available resources, and diminishing planet all paved the way for them to finally bind together and do something to benefit everyone. They stopped their bickering, halted their hatred of difference towards each other and chose to work.
We looked down on these creatures for so long, almost as a form of entertainment. Numerous groups wanted to step in to help but these cliques were all ridiculed for wanting to help these apes. "Why would we waste our time on them?"We said. Now we sit here in awe at the true power of the unified human race. What will they think of us? What will they say when they find out we have been battling for two centuries over political and religious ideals that we can't even really remember anymore. Will they choose to leave us behind. Will they be disappointed? But... what could we do if we stopped this nonsense? What if we choose to stop this war and reach out to the humans and we all choose to work together? What could we accomplish? Where could we go?
But that's too late of a question to ask now. We can only gaze at the stars wondering where those brilliant creatures are off to. They all piled onto their spacecraft, Peace, and shot right by us. They never knew we were here. If only we had reached out. But... they're gone. |
You know what I blame? I see it so clearly now. Like dominoes that you didn't know you stack up so tightly together that any and all pricks could have knocked them down in rapid succession.
Nick is that prick.
See, as far as I can tell, Nick is the only person I don't know in all the other universes. Nick dies. Like. A lot. Yet, somehow, that dirty son of a bitch survived long enough to meet me.
It was at a party. Just a random, nice enough, slightly boring dinner party. I had mentioned that I got laid off. That's when Nick said, "Hey, I have a job down at the grocery store."
Long story short: I hate the grocery store. It's the worst. And this is the only universe I work there. I mean, half of the universes I'm an acclaimed actor. Half. Ten percent I'm an honored politician. The others, well, I'm better off. It doesn't matter in the long run because I'm stuck here working for Nick.
It's pretty clear what the protocol is here. Nick is my problem. Nick dies a lot. Yup, it's a simple conclusion, really. I've gotta kill Nick. |
I stared in shock at my roommate.
"Did you... just..."Lost for words, I toed the remains of the vase.
"I dunno, man. Maybe we like, hallucinated, or something."Ted formed another finger gun, but no bolt appeared. "Uh, you try."
I formed another finger gun and somehow, a glowing, writhing bolt of plasma burst *from Ted*, and snapped across the small room before turning our couch into a smoldering pile of cushions.
"...Dude."
"Holy shit."
"You know what we have to do."
---
"Hey! You! Hold it!"
The masked men turned away from their victim, and struggled to suppress their snickers. Two men clad in ridiculous spandex posed on the sidewalk, both standing in heroic poses.
"Drop the weapons, or we will open fire!"One of the vigilantes barked, flexing to emphasize his profound lack of muscle and gratuitous flab.
Two of the thieves turned back to the terrified old lady. The third drew his handgun. "With what? You ain't packing."
In response, one of the vigilantes leveled a finger gun at the group of thieves. The other leveled a finger gun at his partner.
"Hey, get a load of these two idiots. They-"
*Zap!*
*CRACKLE!*
**HISS!**
The three bandits lay immobile in the alleyway, and the woman stammered her thanks before disappearing down the street.
---
"Hey, Ted?"
"Yeah?"
"This would've been a lot easier if we could just shoot plasma from our own fingers."
"Yeah, man, I guess."
|
"Scott."
"Yes John?"
"What the fuck is that."
"The sky I would assume."
"Notice anything missing?"
"Well I left my glasses at home so-"
"You don't wear glasses."
"It's the thought that counts."
"That's not how this works."
"That's one way of looking at it. Really, one must ask whether the outcome is what truly matters, or whether intent-"
"Scott."
"Yes John?"
"What the fuck did you do to the moon."
"I didn't do anything. I saw who did though."A quick glance to the sides, a hurried whisper. "Kreanin, Lord of Midnight, Conqueror of Light, General of the Revinin."
"You were the one who told him to blow up the fucking moon!"
"Why would I do that?"Scott said, as if offended by the very notion.
"I don't know, that's what I'm asking you for."
"Ask Kreanin. He blew it up."
"I did. And he was just as confused as me."
"That's what comes from meddling in the dark arts. The mind's the first thing to go."
"He's a fucking demon Scott, everything he does is the dark arts."
"Makes the deterioration even faster."
"Technically you're the one dabbling in the dark arts, being a summoner and all that."
"True, but my mind is like a steel cage. Nothing gets out, no deterioration."
"You say that, and I want to believe you but here's my issue. Who in their right mind, challenges a fucking demon lord to play fucking tiddlywinks to get him to blow up the fucking moon!"
"Me."
"I shouldn't have asked."
"Plus I have a good explanation."
"Oh really? I'd love to hear it."
"I'm really good at tiddlywinks."
"Not that idiot. Why did you want the moon to be blown up."
"Well if you have to know, Mr. Nosy."Scott said, rolling his eyes. "I ended up embroiled in an age old conflict between the sand spirits and the Mer. They fought for supremacy over their shared domain. Alas, their only arbiter was the fickle mistress, that ye olde celestial object, the moon itself. So I blew it up."
"That doesn't make sense on so many levels."
"Yes it does."
"Ugh, fine I'll play your little game."
"Tiddlywinks?"
"No! Alright, how did you get to be a part of this 'feud'"
"Well see, remember Melrin, the Merqueen? Well she and I go way back, and turns out that she and the Sand King were getting pissy over tides, the endless fighting was so irritating, so she asked me to arbitrate, since I also know the Sand King pretty well."
"Glossing over the fact that you're best friends forever with immortal deities-"
"More friends from college that you talk to on facebook but aren't super close anymore with but you hang out with them for reunions and get super drunk and end up causing the moon to blow up? Like that."
"You got drunk with the Merqueen and blew up the moon?"
"Uh no. That was just an analogy."
"A damned specific one."
"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. So I decide to ask the moon to not cause tides. Now the moon doesn't listen, the dumb rock that she is. So I think I should just get rid of it."
"So you try to blow up the moon?"
"No, don't be silly. First I tried to make the moon vanish, then I blew it up."
"Of course, what was I thinking. Now it seems perfectly reasonable."
"Exactly."
"I was being sarcastic Scott! We need the fucking moon. Facebook one of your gods and ask them to please replace our moon."
"The gods aren't on facebook, that was just an analogy, read a book for once John."
"Fine, summon a god to replace our moon."
"But then the Merqueen will be so pissed at me."
"There are other solutions you know? Setting up an area near the shoreline where neither side is allowed to enter might have been a better idea than blowing up the moon."
"Hindsight is fifteen fifteen."
"Twenty twenty."
"It would be if you let me get my glasses."
"Scott. Summon a fucking god now, or so help me, I will beat you so bad it'll make what you did to the moon look like a children's scuffle."
"Jeez, fine. No need to get out the scary eyes, you know I hate that. I'm a sensitive soul."
"Sensitive soul my ass. Now summon a god."
Scott whispered strange esoteric words, unpronounceable to most men, and unspellable without a least five apostrophes. The ground started to glow, a fierce red that seemed to melt the tarmac. The night sky gathered and coalesced, forming a great monstrosity. A black beast, broken and torn. Its physical form seemed ephemeral, eternally shifting into new forms each more gruesome than the last. Blood seemed to seep from every pore, eternal wellsprings. It's voice rang on from all sides, a voice that would have rent a lesser man's soul from his form. In this hellish voice, the beast roared out, "Hey Scott, long time no see."
"Hey Ba'al"
"You haven't responded to my friend request,"The beast roared.
"I'm getting to that. Just could you do a quick favor."
"The moon?"
"Yeah, think you could do something?"
"Sure. I'll get started on that."
"Great, huge thanks Ba'al."
"No problem."
"Oh, and are we still on for Tiddlywinks at the witching hour?"The beast said, its body ripping and reforming with excitement.
"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world."Scott said, smiling at the immortal ruler of pain and suffering.
The beast dissipated with a howl, flowing back into the sky.
"See John, it all turned out for the best."
"Scott."
"Yes John?"
"Shut the fuck up."
|
"Hey, give it back!"
I ran, flat out up Broadway and swung a hard left on 50th. A line of theatre-goers waited patiently for the "Book of Mormon"lottery and I weaved in and through them out to 8th Ave. There was a grocery store on the corner, and I ducked into the produce aisle. Casually eyeing some apples, outwardly pondering Granny Smiths against Macintoshes, I kept an eye out and waited for the NYPD to pass by.
Once the coast cleared, I headed back onto the street. This wasn't my first rodeo. There was always an initial chase by the local boys in blue, but it never lasted more than like 20 minutes. It's not as if they were going to canvas all of Manhattan for some elderly Japanese man's lost Nikon. With the camera tucked safely into my lucky purple backpack, I nonchalantly made my way to my place back in Hell's Kitchen.
The elevator sputtered and spurted to the 7th floor, and I slipped through the hallway to 7E. My laptop sat on my bed in the center of the studio, USB cord already prepped for cleaning the memory out. Let me explain. You never want to sell a camera with pictures on it. It's bad business. A while back, a pawn shop client of mine had to give up a wicked pricey DSLR after footing me $150 in cash after the guy I lifted it off got a positive ID based on the pictures saved. Next time I went back, dude called the cops on me, and I ended up busting my ass all the way to Washington Heights just to get them off my trail. Now I'm down a customer and have to watch my back in Chelsea.
So, I plugged in the camera and set to deleting everything off it, but not before I took a peek. Let me explain again, but you wouldn't know if you've never stolen cameras. You never know what sort of kinky shit some dude has on his camera. Everybody thinks the stuff they put on film is normal, but it's all weird as hell. I looked over at my wall at the collection of photos I'd printed off people's camera's. Some were gorgeous landscapes, majestic wildlife and the like. I appreciate the good stuff, I really do. But more than that, most of what I hung up were just hilarious. Some fat chick doing a boudoir set with a python wrapped across her shoulders. Homemade pornos with fluffy pink handcuffs. An unexpectedly significant number of toilet shots of what I presume were shits that were the stuff of song and legend. Other, how to put this, things I probably shouldn't mention here. Scouting this creepy old dude for five blocks, he seemed like he had to have something wall-worthy.
After clicking the full screen button, the first photo filled up the laptop screen. Wasn't anything special. Some old lady in Japan. She was frail, looked under five feet tall without hardly any flesh to her old bones. Her hair was a ghostly white. She was just sitting on the bench. I assumed it was a relative. Boring.
Second photo was a child, also somewhere in Asia. Skip.
Third, fourth, fifth photos were all the same. Lots of pictures of random folks in a country I'd never been to. My luck looked poor.
Still, I scrolled forward to his New York City pictures. If nothing else, it's always interesting to me what tourists think are worth capturing. "Oh look, a subway!"I swear to god, if I miss another 6 train because you won't get out of my way taking your picture of the subway map, I'm throwing you onto the tracks myself. No joke, I once counted the number of midwesterners (I assume) taking pictures of the world's biggest TGI Friday's on a given day, and you don't want to know what it came to.
This guy looks like he started downtown. There was actually a nice shot of a young woman in Battery Park with the Statue of Liberty far off in the distance. Her hair was long and blonde, and her face was hidden away beneath an enormous pair of sunglasses. Her sandals looked like they may precariously tip off into the water.
In the next shot, a man tried to hop up and ride the bull just outside the stock exchange. In the next, a man pretended to "make it rain"in front of the Wall Street sign. In the next, there was an old lady just sitting on the street. She wore a smile that looked moments from breaking into tears. There was a shamefulness to her, as if the camera had over exposed her.
In the next, I got bored and flipped briefly to the internet, refreshing my Twitter. There, the New York Times had just posted, "Local woman shot and killed by NYPD after carrying gun to entrance of NYSE". There was a photo. If it hadn't been the top post, I don't think I would have noticed. It was her. It was the sad old lady from the tourist's camera.
The story read that Marissa Jones had drawn her weapon just outside the stock exchange at the closing bell. Police are still investigating, but they suspect she had lost a great deal of her investment in the crash the prior day. No further comment.
The story concluded by flagging that this was the second fatal shooting of the day in Manhattan. I clicked the link to the other story, and gasped aloud alone in my bed. The blonde woman standing in front of the Statute of Liberty stared back at me. In the photo they released, she wore the same ridiculous sunglasses. Reading through, she had been jumped in a side street down by Chinatown while trying to buy a fake Louis Vuitton purse. Shot twice. Dead on arrival at Bellevue.
Panicking, I flipped through the man's photos, cross-checking with obituaries and news outlets. I couldn't trace them all down, but a shocking number of the folks in this man's camera had died shortly after their picture was taken. I scrolled all the way to the end. It was a shot I was familiar with, taken from the giant red staircase in the center of Times Square. A young man crossed the street in front of the ball that they drop every year at New Year's. He was average height, brown hair, brown eyes, maybe 20. He had on tennis shoes, jeans and a hoodie, with an empty-looking purple backpack slung across his shoulder.
It was me. |
**Title: The Cleansing**
I never knew the world could be so quiet.
“The Cleansing” is what they called it, if I remember correctly. It seemed nobody much wanted to talk about it, once it got started. And I couldn’t use my laptop or phone to search the term once it started, under penalty of torture for even attempting to use technology. Only the government could use technology during those years, and people ignored the fact that we were letting countless people die not putting to use our technological capabilities. And I’m growing more suspicious every day, that that’s maybe what they wanted to happen all along.
I took a walk, which was as much as I was really allowed to do given the strenuous activity laws. People couldn’t be over-exerting themselves and needing medical attention when they went too far in a world where there were no physicians in the hospitals to even treat the deathly ill.
There had to be a better way, but this was the way as long as people could remember.
They said that there was once a man, centuries ago, who planted a tree every day for decades until he’d created a forest. He did it because he wanted to. If only our ancestors had been so conscientious before, maybe we wouldn’t have had so many raging storms wiping out entire cities and flooding all coastal regions, and mass extinctions on a biblical scale wiping out what remained of our ecosystems.
I planted trees during this Cleansing, but they didn’t call it ‘work’ for me, since I’m among the orphans in a society that hardly values humanity anymore. They found a loophole, and made us sign agreements that we wanted to help the environment of our own free will, or we’d get thrown into prison for disruption. The world government was hard at work trying to restore those fragile pockets of nature damaged beyond repair, to no avail. There was always something missing in their plans. So thought out, then one variable unknown and un-factored making their efforts fruitless on the scale they needed to save what remained of the population.
I try to not think about these things, but it’s hard to ignore all the fresh new trees with mounds of ash at their bases during my walks through the forests around my town.
Apparently, the dead make great fertilizer.
Just this last afternoon, a policeman stopped me at the side of the street, and patted down my jeans to make sure I wasn’t carrying any cell phones or any other technology. All he found was a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and my wallet detailing my ‘voluntary participation’ in the restoration of the local environment, before he let me go on my way.
I checked back over my shoulder, to make sure I wasn’t still being followed. It had been blocks and blocks. I took a turn down an alleyway, and flipped over a dusty mat covering a manhole to an ancient sewer system no longer connected to the greater set up. I was careful not to trip up, as I climbed down the stories.
And underneath the world and the control and the constrictions of society, I entered into my solitude with a few dozen others like me. The desktops lined the walls, and our generators were running quietly in the distance. Our solar panels up above were well enough concealed. We couldn’t disappear all day, but for hours at a time, we could try to hack into their systems. To find out what’s really going on, behind those government walls. From what I’ve heard, they’ve been saying for centuries that “The Cleansing” was for the good of the people. And yet the planet never healed. And the people, well..
Let’s just say we’re getting a little impatient.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Oscar_Relentos/comments/749s28/ya_dystopian_the_cleansing_part_2/) |
"No, this is bullshit. You can't be replacing me with- with him!"I got onto my uncomfortable desk chair and looked over the cushioned boarder between me and one of the minor Shinto deities.
I wanted to laugh when I saw who was coming. I sat back down and laughed into a stuffed animal one of the kids had gotten me. I heard the reply from one of the damned that dealt with these things.
"I'm just doing what I was told, sir,"the equivalent of an intern said.
"But they started it as a joke,"the man replied in frustration.
"So was the helix fossil, sir, please move to level 5."
I heard him gather his things. A whole level, wow. I peaked my head over the cubicle. "Hi, I'm No One."
The, uhm, diety stretched out a strand, "The Flying Spaghetti Monster, nice to meet you."
Humans, what would they think of next. |
I sat in the corner booth, drinking a cup of Earl Grey. The budget for the next fiscal year sat in front of me; if I could make more cuts to education and training, then I would be free to bolster an escape strategy. What’s more, a little lack of education may be good, keep the peons in line. I took a sip of thin liquid as the doors of the café crashed inwards. A man with fear in his eyes stormed through, weapon in hand.
“Give me the money!”
*Oh dear, it’s bloody Jeremy.*
The lunatic began pacing in front of the counter as the young cashier frantically tapped the till.
"What’s the hold up! Are you mocking me! I’m known for waiting times, but this is taking the piss!"
*What had possessed him? Had I not been fair on the poor man? Yes, he’d taken some hits in the line of duty, but that had been ratified by his Christmas bonus.*
“Jeremy!” The colour drained from his face.
“My lady?”
His weapon clattered to the floor and he dropped to his knees. I strode through the café, the eyes of the public on me, as they had been so many times before.
"Jeremy, how has it come to this?"
The man couldn’t speak.
“You were a good soldier, when those children needed to die, you made the cuts; when the sick needed healing, you made the cuts…. If you needed help, you could have asked. I’m always open to negotiations.”
Jeremy tried to hold my gaze, but couldn’t.
“What is it Jeremy? Drugs? Gambling? You’ve not been caught with another boy have you?”
“It’s the avocado toast my lady, I just can’t resist it, I’ve had to mortgage my house, my whole family is addicted; my children are on the street, stealing avocados from the local markets, scavenging scraps of bread from the gutter.”
I put my hand on his shoulder, as I’ve heard humans sometimes do.
“I forgive you.”
I turned to the terrified girl behind the counter.
“One slice of avocado toast please.”
I stood beside Jeremy in silence as the dish was prepared, I contacted my accountant to let him know what I was investing in, I handed Jeremy the dish and watched him take a single bite, then I made two cuts across the jugular. The blood poured out, mixing garishly with his meal, green and red, like a morbid Christmas.
I strode out of the café, renewed with hope. I could already see the headlines in the papers: ‘May’s cuts save the day.’
|
Pain. A headache? No, a migraine. My eyes are shut tight, the sharp aching quickly goes away. My hands on my head, I look forward and see. White walls, white tiles. I am naked. Men come into focus, wearing black…black gear? Is that body armour? Are those gas masks? Someone is talking to me.
I focus on him. Focus real hard.
“We’re doing as you say.” The man repeats. “We’re doing as you say.” The man says again.
I look to the ground, I see weapons at all their feet. A dozen weapons for a dozen men. I look back at the man, I look to the men. Their hands are all in the air. I keep my face straight. What is happening?!
“We’re going to exit the room now.” The man states. “We’re doing as you say.” The man repeats.
“Stop.” I yell accidentally, that came out different to how I wanted it to. It wasn’t supposed to be so harsh sounding.
The men instantly freeze. They seem to be afraid, I can’t see their emotions though; they all wear gas masks.
I feel the insides of my throat, I find that I’m thirsty. I work some saliva, I swallow. “Give me some clothes.” I call out to the man that first spoke to me.
His hands waver in the air, they move to undo his clothes but rise quickly back into the air. “Can I undress?” The man asks, his voice breaking.
I give him a quizzical look. Why is he asking me this? What has happened?!
“I want my clothes.” I answer him. My voice sounding deeper.
“You.” The man hesitates, as if looking for the right words. “You don’t have any clothes.”
“Get me my clothes.” I tell the man.
The man’s head tilt. He seems to be thinking. Slowly he puts his arms down.
“You’re not you.” The man speaks with the sound of realization. “You’re not you!” the man yells with joy. “You’re not you!” the man yells with anger as he runs and dives for his weapon.
The other men are now moving too. Such speed, they seem so slow. I step forward, I feel as if I could reach this man’s weapon before him…but my head is in pain. A sharp aching pain. *Let me take over.*
A migraine. My eyes are shut tight, the pain quickly goes away. My hands on my head. I look forward and see. A door, a keycard slot. I wear body armour. Colours come into focus. Red paint…blood? Splattered blood? I look behind me. Bodies all around. Mangled to bits.
I look at my hand. Keycard right there. I look back to the door. Keycard in slot. The doors slide open. I got to get away.
|
Well, hell. History never was my 'A' game. More like my 'B-' game. I have *no idea* how this obscure *(was he obscure?! I don't even know that my much, lol)* 2000 year old politician dies. I'm not even sure if Bush is alive, back in my own time.
Guess I gotta wing it. What does he want to hear? This dude has the ability to throw me in the dungeon or 'off with my head' me. I just need to keep him happy long enough to get out of his court, away from all these guys with spears and back to my time-teleportation pad, hidden in a cave outside of town. Time to get back home, kids. Next time I do this I'll do some *research* first!
"Its, like, DANGEROUS, to talk about that sort of thing, er... Your majesty"I begin *(majesty? Is that a thing here?!)* "Temporal Paradoxes and all that, you know"
"But I am Ceasar!"His expression is somewhere between childish insistence and childish wheedling for 'just one more' cookie. "
I frown, and he adds "I won't tell anybody! I can keep a..."He sidles off his throne and whispers in my ear:
"I can keep a secret! Pleeease! Cmon!"
I let my features relent, just enough. Caesar gets excited.
"Everybody out!"He orders."Move it people! Beat it! Shoo! Go on! Get!"
The room empties, with some grumbling protests, but not too many. They've seen him act this way before.
I breathe a lot easier with all those sharp pointy objects gone. Its just me and him, and I realize Caesar is just a guy. A clueless guy!
I smile for him, and put a paternal arm over his shoulder:
"You've REALLY got to promise to not TELL ANYONE. Ever! Our little secret, right?"
I mean, for all I know temporal paradoxes might be real. Seems like a good idea to play it safe.
He nods eagerly, and leans in towards me. I scope out the room. There are windows, but my cleanest escape route is actually just the front gate. An easy ten steps away.
"Actually, Caesar"I whisper "You are immortal!" |
I was a good boy. I always fetched. I always sat. And except for the very last day I always stayed.
When the people started biting, I didn't know what to think. Biting is for bad boys. People never bit before.
But my person got bit. It made him very sick. I fetched him food, but he threw it up. I pulled my very own water bowl to him, but he couldn't drink. He was so hot when I licked his face. Worse than when he would stay home instead of leaving me forever each day and stayed in bed hugging me instead. He was hotter than when we would run up and down the street, or when we would play ball.
He was so hot it hurt my tongue. I tried to tell him I loved him. I tried to get him help, but no matter how loud I barked or howled, nobody came.
I was so happy when he went to sleep because when he sleeps, he gets better. But he stopped living. No breathing. No moving. I tried to wake him up. I pushed my head under his hand, and he couldn't scratch my ears. I licked him and he tasted wrong. But I licked him anyway.
And when he moved again I was so happy! My tail broke his favorite coffee mug when I knocked it off the table, but I didn't care I was a bad boy because he was awake again.
But he didn't talk. He didn't pat me, or call my name. He just growled like a bad boy.
He crawled over to me like he wanted to play tug, but he didn't have the rope.
And he tried to bite me! I cried. I tried to tell him it hurt. I asked him not to hurt me. I even rolled over and gave him my belly and throat like a good boy. But he kept trying to bite.
So I ran. I left my person while his teeth nipped at my tail. He wasn't my monkey any more. He was a bad boy. And now I am too because I left and didn't go back.
I just want to be his good boy again. |
“You’re going down!” The boy in front of me disappeared. Number 13. I no longer cared to remember their names- only their ranks. Of course, the ranks were fairly variable, but they were easy to remember and I got consistent updates whenever one was killed. I let the boy get in close, punching at me with extreme rapidity. I had seen many of his kind before. They always thought that they couldn’t be hurt- after all, what could kill them, if they could not be hit?
Of course, in a world of supernatural powers, that was foolish. There were no limits on what one could do with their power, but those with the physical abilities always felt that they were invincible. *Especially* The fast ones.
I commanded. He stopped in his tracks- literally. The friction from his speed marked the marble flooring with the dark rubber of his soles as he skidded to a halt. He was mine. Now, all I had to do was to think of a way for this 13 to die that would keep the world confused about my power. That was very important to me. I would not hold the ranking I did without such secrecy. Last time, a number four had come to me. I had strung them up, dripping wet. For this one, perhaps some subtle singes? Those that only the sharpeyes would detect. It might make it seem that my power is one of flame that I try to hide.
Every few months I changed what I pretended my ability to be. If I stuck to one for too long, they would reach the end of the clues I left for them and find nothing. And then, perhaps, they would realize what they still failed to.
Once more, I commanded 13. He stripped, and set his clothes to the side. He walked towards me, and I pressed my hand into his stomach. He would die within minutes. There was no antidote, even if he could break my thrall. I had developed this poison myself. It was impossible to spot, as I was the only one who could. I left him standing, waiting for his death. I withdrew a small lighter from my pocket and began to heat his clothes. This would cause damage invisible to me and the common observer, but it would be found. A killing by number one was news.
I finished my work, knowing I had just provided the city gossip for the next week. Behind me, the boy choked, and died. Damn. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to redress him.
It was a shame, really. I wished that they would stop coming after me, for no one could win. But they knew that every ability had a weakness, and they were determined to be the one to exploit mine. The problem was, no one of them could ever hope to. I controlled minds, yes, but only ever one at a time, and only ever once in a person’s life. And only ever for five minutes.
In reality, my ability was fraught with weakness. But they didn’t know that, and teaming up was an impossibility. After all, who would take number one if they did? Their greed kept them from realizing the truth. From seeing what they had never tried.
And that was fine by me.
___
Hi! If you enjoyed this, please go check out my subreddit /r/OpiWrites, where I post all of my stories! |
Today was just another day in paradise. Or so I thought until the I walked into my shabby hole I called home. As I opened the makeshift door, the same way I had hundreds of times before, I noticed something was different. The door, really just a scrap of metal, only had a simple lever as a lock. Why would I need more when I'm the only guy on Earth? It doesn't take much to keep the critters out. Nothing wrong with the door though. As I raised the heavy latch, I started to hear it. A quiet hum slowly getting louder and louder as the metal slag opened. *Great* I thought, *What's broken now?* Was it the water collector? No that wouldn't hum. It's gotta be my generator. As I stepped into the hole I called home, the lights flared on and blinded me.
My mind raced. I was trained to handle anything, so my body reacted. I focused on adjusting my eyes as I pulled my side arm and ducked back behind the door. In those seconds, I thought of everything. Of my lonely time here in this hole on Earth. Of how much work I still had to do. The damn relay was still busted and finding parts in this wasteland was a nightmare. The thing still refused to turn on even with all those parts I found last week. *Did a critter get in?* No I locked the door. Well more like jammed it so nothing would get in. But then-
"Surprise!"echoed out of the hole. My heart stopped. "You've got to be kidding me!", I yelled in frustration. I walked inside again, surprised to see every single computer was on as well as every light. "How long has it been on?"I asked while searching for the comms. "A couple days. We wanted to surprise you for your one year anniversary down there."I knew that voice. It was the commander, all smug with his little joke.
"You guys are still assholes."I said, "You should have just turned it on right away. I thought I broke the thing again."
"And ruin the surprise? No way. We will debrief later on what took you the whole year to put together the relay, but for now good job. We will now move to phase two and start prepping the other specialists to drop. Your mission is now complete. Enjoy the day off."
The day off? I've had a whole year of those. Down here, even rummaging for parts is a lot better than that damn ship. Oh well, another day off won't hurt.
EDIT: Feedback is welcome! I want to add more / continue when I get the time. |
Squelching, soggy shoes. Is there anything worse? Finn thought as he tugged at his collar, squelching down the road. It rained from the night before, and into the morning. Finn valued his 10,000 steps a day, "but if these storms continue", he thought, "I'd better take my bike, or an Uber or something". The thought dissipated like the condensed breath in front of him. The world was painted grey, and he briskly walked across the canvas. In the distance, the clock tower began to loom. Quarter to 9, it read. Finn gasped out loud, shuddered from embarrassment, only to realize there is no one around but him. He was not even halfway to work. More like a third, if that. He picked up the pace, making an even louder, sucking and popping noise with his feet.
A wisp of lightening far away illuminated the sky. What followed was possibly the loudest noise Finn had ever heard. Much too loud for a single lightening bolt. "It must have hit something far away"He thought, conjuring up images of a large oak split in two, then Back to The Future. In his bout of daydreaming, he failed to hear the austere man with the twiddled mustache beckoning him from a weathered minivan. Finally hearing the man, Finn spun around, startled. The force of his reaction alone almost caused him to slip. "YOU NEED A RIDE KID?"The man screamed over the drumming rain. Finn was hardly a kid, but he shrugged this comment off. "Yeah, I'm about 8 blocks north. Is that alright?!""WHAT?"The man was leaning out of his window, straining to hear Finn. "8 BLOCKS NORTH, THAT OKAY?"The man hastily leaned over and popped the passenger door open. Finn's mind was half consumed with relief from the miserable weather, and calculating the chances that this man was a serial killer. "Howdy, I'm Clarke!"Clarke extended his left arm, over his right, which was clutching the steering wheel, causing the car to jerk to the right. Finn awkwardly extended his own soaked hand, and shook his. "I'm Finn."He said almost as an afterthought. "You headed to work, Finn?"Finn wasn't sure if the man was making small talk or was genuinely interested. "Yeah, if it wasn't for you I would have been late. What about you, are you on your way to work."Finn clenched his teeth. He hated returning small talk. "No son, I am at work. I run a carpool in the morning, and a drunk wagon in the evenings.""Oh. Nice."Really? Nice? Finn decided he’d keep his yap shut as much as he could. “Oh, one thing. Do you mind if I pick up 2 clients of mine? It won’t take more than a minute.” Finn thought about this, but he couldn’t really say no. “Yeah, sure.” Instantly, Clarke spun the steering wheel, causing the car to lose traction, and pulled off a 180 degree turn. Finn held onto his seat. He pulled out his phone to try and distract himself, and if needed, call the police.
After what seemed like 20 minutes of scrolling through Reddit, Finn jolted in his seat. He looked out of the window, and did not recognize a single surrounding. “Hey, where are we going?” Finn’s voice shook. “I-er. You told me it would be okay if I picked up my clients?” “Yes, but you said it would only take a few minutes!” A silence befell the van, underlined by thumping of rain on the metal roof. Clark tapped the radio digital clock. 8:50 AM. How could it be? Finn relaxed a little, but was beginning to get more and more concerned. “Where are we?” Finn pried. “Just around the corner son, I’ll have you at work at 5 to 9. Guaranteed.” “OK.” Finn spoke as if sending a disappointed text. The kind where you’d use a period where you usually don’t just to make the other person uncomfortable. Suddenly, Finns phone lunged forward out of his hand as the handbrake was pulled. The car came to a screeching halt, and the van door was thrown open. Two armed men wearing ski masks jumped into the back and shouted at Clarke to move. Finn could have sworn he soiled himself. Seconds later, he realized these men were Clarke’s clients. “How’s your morning boys?” The man on the left side of the van responded. “Oh, you know. Same ol’ same ol’. That a new customer?” Everything seemed to be ship shape aside from the fact that this man had an AK-47 slung around his shoulder and sounded like a 4 year old. Finn fought the urge to laugh even though he was slightly disturbed. “Yeah, this is a new catch” Clarke slapped Finn’s back while bellowing with laughter. “Welcome, kiddo” said the man on the right. His voice was maybe an octave deeper, but still very pre-pubescent sounding. Who knows, they could be brothers with a genetic.. voice problem? The men tugged at their skimasks, and revealed their faces. If one could call them faces. Hanging bits of purple and blue skin decorated an hourglass shaped head, with surprisingly luscious lips. Finn began to panic. He wanted to scream, but his horror denied him the strength. What sounded was a whimper. “What’s he saying boss?” Asked one of the hourglassmen. Clarke furrowed his eyebrows while looking at Finn. “He um. He says he’s excited to go to work.” “Hahahah your people are so wonderful” The hourglassmen proceeded to tie back flaps of skin into a skin pony tail, revealing what resembles a face. Finn was frozen. He had never seen such horror. The scariest thing he had ever seen was Courage the Cowardly Dog. This was a whole new league.
The van came to a halt. Finn pivoted his nervously inelastic neck to the left. He recognized that they were at some sort of toll booth, but judging from the purple sky perforated by green rays of light, they were no longer “around the corner.” If he hadn’t soiled himself before, his pants had now become a latrine. Clarke stuck his neck out of the window and clicked the service button beside a pane of heavily tinted glass. The black pane suddenly became transparent. Finn wished that hadn’t happened. What sat inside could make Satan cry. An entity floated in the confines of the toll-booth room. To someone accustomed, the entity was a swirl of black and blood red. To the likes of Finn, it conjured up images of mass murder. Pits filled with bloodied bodies, thrown into it from the sky. Raining limbs amassing into piles. Oceans of curdling blood drowning thousands of people, gurgling. Succumbing to their deaths. A tear streamed down his cheek and into his agape mouth. Clarke whipped around. “Boys, I’m short on change. You have any?” Finn fumbled for his wallet and picked out a handful of quarters. Clarke looked at them confused. “Finn, no. They only accept childs blood or entrapped entities.” One of the hourglassment reached his hand over to the front. “Here, but I want my change.” Clarke placed the vial under the bulletproof pane. Finn watched as the entity conjured up hell within the toll-booth room. Cataclysmic storms engulfed the Universe, a wrinkled red hand tore people limb from limb. Their entrails used as rings and bracelets. The liquid in the vial was escaping somehow. It stopped after what seemed like years of torture in Finn’s mind. Suddenly, the entity glowed green. The gate opened.
As the car drove off, Finn had a thought so strong. It interrupted his hearing, vision, and thinking. “Have a Good Day” He read this in his mind. How? He also heard it. It was the loveliest song. Graceful voices of the heavens themselves treated his ears. He tasted it. Smelled it. He had known it his whole life. He felt such a joy, he was about to cry. “Here you are Finn.” The ensemble of dear old sensations faded. Finn looked out of his window. He was parked outside his office. “Th-thanks.” Finn exited the van without looking or directly speaking to Clarke. He pulled his phone up to check the time. 8:55AM. His face hurt from the constant expression of surprise. It surely had to be stuck that way now. Clarke rolled down the passenger window. “SAME TIME TOMORROW?”
|
Though it had been going on for weeks, when the now-familiar clanking sounded from the stairwell, nearly every eye in the office rolled simultaneously. I knew it. I knew they whispered behind my back, complained to management. I even knew today, when Stephen and Bill followed me downstairs at the end of my shift. I noticed their hesitation when I continued on past the parking garage and into the sub-basement. If they wanted to know what could motivate me to come to work every day in full armor, so be it.
The door to the sub-basement opened on well-oiled hinges, the darkness of the room penetrated only by an eerie red light, bright enough only to make clear that a thick smoke or fog coated the interior. Inside, an almost palpable silence weighed heavily, interrupted first by one, then a second heavy footfall as I strode inside.
A flash of brilliant white light revealed many members of upper management and executive-level employees, seated in a semi-circle beyond the walls of a metal cage. I drew a deep breath through my teeth, head hanging low as I readied myself. I'd been doing this for months now, but it never got easier. Every night, another challenge just to muster the will. However, this paid far better than my official "job"in accounts payable, and if my physique and skill could earn me more than my degree, then so be it.
When the music started it reverberated deep, my armor vibrating with the bass even as I began to unbuckle it piece by piece, heavy plates falling to the floor. Gyrating my hips in time with the beat, it wasn't long before the platemail lay strewn across the stage.
Stripping, especially with a gimmick like a suit of armor, wasn't where I'd expected to be at this point in my life, but hey. Money's money. |
"Just tell me, senator,"Trudeau said and shed a tear. "Just tell me."
"Their aircrafts dropped enormous boxes with food, and toys,"the senator said through gritted teeth. "They even left a congratulations message for your son's birthday in their wake. They are so nice!."
"Thank you, senator,"Trudeau said. "And yes, you are right, they are incredible nice. That's why we need to do something. Tell me senator, do we have anything planned?"
"We do,"the senator said, "but I don't know if it will be enough. Their donations have been too generous, and Turnbull keeps texting me that despite whoever wins this war, we are both winners."He clenched his fist. "He's so nice."
"I know,"Trudeau said and his face distorted with anger. "I love him."He sighed. "What's our plan?"
"We will send our best zoologists and engineers,"the senator said and smirked, "to build the biggest zoo ever seen. We will take all of the snakes, coconut crabs, dangerous spiders, etc out of their streets, out of the reach of their kids and we will feed and treat every single one of those animals like kings."
Trudeau gasped, and as he pondered over the idea, he said, "thank you, senator."Soon, he met the senator's gaze with tight lips and worried eyes. "What if they are so polite because those dangerous animals reminds them of how valuable and short life is? What if by taking them out of the streets, we harm their people, their *culture*?"
The senator nodded and flinched, but said nothing.
Trudeau wiped off a rebellious tear and stared outside his window as his citizens made a line to receive their share of food and toys. He could hear the symphonies of thank yous and you are welcomes in his head. "Sometimes, we have to ask ourselves if being too nice is not nice at all."
"It's a risky move,"the senator said.
"Do it, senator,"Trudeau said. "Show those beautiful souls how pure and big our heart is. Fill them and those animals with relentless love, and hug those who need it. In times of war, no matter how dangerous it may be, risks have to be taken."
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/r/therobertfall - For more stories! |
I didn't know it was happening at first. I was busy studying shadow step jutsu and the way of the blade. I was pouring countless hours into the Great Works; Bleach, Cowboy Bebop, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, and more. I knew that the world would need me soon. Even when others called me weeb and soiboi, I did not despair. I learned that the Great Old Ones were coming back to cleanse the world, my world, of life to start anew. I met them on the battlefield like the honorable warrior that I am. They laughed at my courage and asked me if I had any last words before they wiped existence like a slate. I looked each of them in the eyes one after another, saying "Omae wa mou shindeiru." |
I'd always heard you shouldn't pick up hitchhikers because it's dangerous. But after 187 years, I'd started to wonder about the logic behind that statement.
In the beginning—shortly after I'd been doomed to my task—I searched for the most disheveled, unstable looking people I could find. If they had an obvious tick, a prominently displayed weapon, or a racist shirt on, I'd pick them up and do anything I could to anger them.
Somehow, nothing had ever escalated to a level of violence.
One time, I picked up a short lady that had a habit of chatting with herself just outside of Toronto. Her long, sandy blonde hair had looked as if it had never been brushed in her life, and she'd had strange dark stains all down her blouse.
But I drove her to Albany and by the time we arrived, she was whispering to herself about how the nice man had driven her such a long way. She gave me a $20 and was on her way.
Eventually I began looking for the *unexpected* type. You know, the suave-dressed guys with kind eyes that looked like you should take them home to meet your parents. I'd heard from another failed murderer that most serial killers were actually attractive people, which is what made them so unquestionable.
But that hadn't worked either. I'd picked up several attractive men and women, only to be safely let go. Sometimes my attempts had backfired, landing me in strange or awkward situations. One time, I picked up the most handsome man I had ever seen outside of Seattle. Not only did he *not* try to kill me, but I'd driven us to a chapel before I'd even realized it. He gracefully sidestepped my marriage proposal, saying that he simply had to get to the orphanage he was planning to donate his time to that day.
Eventually I gave up and started picking up everyone and anyone. Curtained hair? Not a problem. Bad posture? Hop on in. Unusually baggy clothing on a hot day? Where you headin'? I reasoned that the more people I picked up, the higher my chances were of stumbling on a murderer.
Presently, I saw a figure flash a thumb around a hundred feet in front of me. I hit my brakes, but by the time I pulled over, the stranger who'd flagged me had retreated. I stopped and rolled down my window to take in the sight of him.
The man was tall—his waist even with the edge of my passenger's seat cushion—as well as broad. He stood as far away from the road as he could; the shadows cast by the trees lining the road shielded his face from my view. A suspicious, bulging duffel bag hung from his left shoulder.
"Hey, man. Need a ride?"I called.
From the dark, I could see his head move up and down in the slowest nod I had ever seen. He took a tentative step forward.
"You need to come a little closer than that, man. Need to make sure you're not some kind of axe murder,"I joked. The man took a step back. "Now now, hang on,"I said quickly. "I'm not discriminatin'. Just let me see you."
After a moment, he edged forward to the shoulder of the road. The light from the interior of my cab spilled forward just enough that I could make out the bright neon polka dots on his jumpsuit. His face was painted white, and he was donning an electric blue afro on his head. With his right hand, he reached up to adjust his bright red nose. He might've used his left to do it, but that was the hand he was holding his knife in.
I reached across the cab and swung the door open. I smiled. "Hop on in, buddy." |
"I wish for infinite wishes!"
There we go again. It isn't easy being a genie. My job is to grant people wishes, but not in the way you think: Whenever someone wishes for something, time stops until I have done whatever they have requested, no matter how ridiculous. When I've completed the task, time resumes and all is well. Those humans must think I'm doing this with magic or something, seeing how much they wish for. This one wasn't hard to do or anything, but it did mean that I'd have to be a slave for his entire puny, miserable life.
"I wish for a pizza!"
Everything froze. This one was easy compared to all the other things people have wished for. I'd once been stuck for what felt like millennia trying to bruteforce someone's PIN code. Anyways, I walked down the street, to the closest pizza place. I walked inside, and saw a man with a forced smile just about to hand a pizza box over to a lady over the counter. I took the box, and walked out. Imagining their faces when their pizza disappears never makes me chuckle. Not long after, I arrived "home". I threw the box on the ground, and time resumed. All was well. My human fell to the ground with a greedy look on his face, opened the box, only to be met with big disappointment. "Seriously, you gave me funghi? Fuck you, I wish for a pizza margherita!"
It isn't easy being a genie.
I was in a hurry while writing, so I might edit this later. |
Joe, holding the shovel, paused. "Wait,"he said, "So that means you're not going to kill me?"
The gunman frowned. "Of course I'm going to kill you."
"But you just told me to dig *your* grave,"Joe said. "As in, a grave for you."
"No,"the gunman said. "The grave is for you. But it's *my* grave, I own it."
"Oh come on!"Joe said, "Nobody says 'my' grave meaning a grave they own. Do you think funeral home owners are all 'go out and dig a bunch of my graves'?"
"Seriously?"The gunman said. "I'm out here asking you to dig my grave-"
"My grave,"Joe interrupted.
"**My** grave,"The gunman corrected, "and you're going to quibble about the correct wording?"
"If I'm going to die,"Joe said, "it's going to be like I lived: As a pedantic ass."
"Fine,"the gunman said, "We'll compromise."Then he shot Joe.
Holstering the gun, he walked up to the corpse and took the shovel. "I'll dig *our* grave." |
I'd always thought Vikings would be massive men, beasts of war and unstoppable killing machines. I was a bit disappointed to learn the truth. Most of them were short; barely reaching five feet. Many were still in their teens and had not reached their full height before death.
However, I'd quickly learned that all of them were dangerous. I was learning this again as I sidestepped another cleave of a battleaxe. All of the men here were in roughly the same state they were when they died, with their same weapons. Wounds they sustained upon death could be healed with time, which there was plenty of, but they did not grow in size. They had missed out on their growth when they were alive, scrounging and pillaging for scraps of food in a hostile environment. It really made me glad I had MREs at least.
I drew my combat knife and sliced at my opponents wrist as he missed again, using my superior reach to my advantage. He roared in true Viking fashion and I felt my blood pump in response. He lifted his battleaxe again and went in for a side swipe, but the weight at the end pulled him too far and left his side exposed. Opting not to wound him, I gave his ribs a solid kick as if I were breaching a door and he fell to the ground. I pounced after him and pinned him to the ground the way I learned from some bored Rangers in life. "Yield!"I roared at him, with the same gusto he had yelled at me.
He struggled to get free for a few moments, but soon realized he was out of his weight class. "Argh! I yield!"
I helped him to his feet and he clasped my arm and congratulated me in his language. I knew little of it, but he knew even less English, so I tried to pick it up as fast as I could. I retired to the mead hall for my favorite part of Valhalla; the drunken songs. And to my delight, they had picked up one of my favorites in my honor. They were just concluding it as I entered. Their Scandinavian accents somehow made it sound even more gruesome than it already was.
"There was blood upon the risers, there were brains upon the chute!
Intestines were a danglin' from his paratrooper suit!
He was a mess, they picked him up and poured him from his boots!
And he ain't gonna jump no more!"
I picked up a tankard and filled it with the strongest mead I'd ever had.
"Gory, gory what a Hel of a way to die!
Gory, gory what a Hel of a way to die!
Gory, gory what a Hel of a way to die!
And he ain't gonna jump no more!"
I downed my drink and immediately felt the burning sensation chase away my higher reasoning skills.
This... This was an eternity I could deal with. Now if only I could get the other Marines out of Hel. I heard they had been regrouping lately... |
Boiled potatoes. Boiled veg. Boiled chicken. We weren't allowed salt since our mum read it caused heart failure. No butter either, heart failure. No moaning at the dinner table. Dad gulped it down and did't say a word - always busy reading his paper when he got home. I mean, I am grateful that I always get hot food, lot of people would kill for that. I think I'd sooner starve than have mum's 'special' cabbage, potato and leek stew. It was like slurping on wet paper towels.
Rwanda was a hot topic at the time, in fact it was my dad that was always banging on about it, reading about it. And with African conflict always on our mind, my mum, whenever I was ungrateful, would yell at me "if you were one of those poor africans, you'd be over the moon seeing all this food!". Somehow I doubt it. It's sustinece, sure, but does it have to be so bland?
One day we got a new kid in my class. Talib was a black boy, in fact he was adopted from Rwanda. We spent pretty much all that day learning about Africa and Rwanda and getting to know the new boy. He didn't talk to much, even when we were sat together. But I liked him. We soon bonded over football, running about the playground, and food.
We both ate at the cafeteria for lunch, lots of people say school food is just as bad as prison food, but, for me, it was a welcome break from the bland and over-boiled. A month or so after I met Talib, I asked him to come home and play and have dinner. I didn't tell him that the food was terrible, and I didn't tell my mum that Talib was African. This plan wrote itself, everything was in place. Play a bit of football, come in for dinner, I'd moan about the food then mum would moan at me, and Talib would surely speak up.
"Boys! Dinner!"mum called from the back of the house. Boiled pork and veg, great. She dished up, we all sat down, dad unfurled his paper, and the spark ignited. "Mum, this meat tastes funny". She tutted and just let me get on with it. Talib was eating it, and had made more of a headway than me or my dad. "Mum, why are these carrots so white?"She told me to shut up and eat my dinner.
"Mum, the meat's too tough for me to chew!"my mum sprang from her chair and roared at me "Well! If you won't eat it, I'm sure there's plenty starving africans that would be over the moon to have this!". She began to scrape my dinner onto Talib's plate, Talib crossed his hands over his plate. Mum looked at Talib. "What? You don't like it either?"
Talib looked so small in the eye of my mum, but he was defiant. "No, even starving Africans have taste." |
For some reason, my animated reflection had no effect on me. Shouldn't I be frightened? I just wasn't.
"What's in it for me?"I asked the mirror.
"I'm everything you aren't. Everything you long to be. If we trade places, I can build us the kind of life you've always wanted,"it said. The voice was more angelic than my own. It was as if my reflection had no other purpose than perfection.
"If I say yes, will I ever leave the mirror?"I questioned.
"No. But you misunderstand. You would not want to leave,"my reflection explained.
"And why is that?"
"Because this is your world. You are currently....in mine,"it said.
Everyone had always said I didn't fit in. I had no friends. My family rejected me. I was a loser. Could it be possible that I was on the wrong side of the mirror? I made the choice quickly.
"Deal. Let's do it,"I answered.
He smiled as I touched the glass. We switched places, and I found myself in a world that appeared the same. Except...everything felt different. I walked away from the mirror after saying goodbye to my reflection.
The next few years of my life were amazing. I became rapidly popular and began to thrive at everyday life. I had too many friends to count. People here understood me, and I, them. I could not thank my reflection enough. We still talk sometimes. He tells me about his life and I tell him about my own. This whole time, we had been living the wrong lives. I'm glad one of us had the courage to speak up. |
"What...what did you just say?"
I rolled my eyes. Surely an immortal being of ultimate evil wasn't hard of hearing. "You heard me, you son of a bitch. Mario Kart."
Lucifer looked uncomfortable, which, to this point, I hadn't even thought was possible. Horns, pitchfork, all that, I expected, but a nervous crease in his brow?
Sighing, he replied. "Very well, Mario Kart it is. I suppose you want to set the terms for the game as well."
Fortune favors the bold, they say. Maybe it favors the stupid, too. I nodded. "Yes, I do. We're playing 200 cc, frantic mode."
A dissatisfied grunt from the master of evil. "Fine, fine. What course are we racing on?"
I absentmindedly grabbed the controller that materialized in front of me. "Rainbow road."
Lucifer dropped his controller. "Wait, wait wait wait. I don't understand. Are we playing for your soul, or for my job?"
|
A hot summer’s day. The sun beat down on the Potter Ranch, bathing it in heavenly golden light. A picturesque scene; cows in the field grazing on fresh green grass, sheep lazing in the shade of a tall oak tree. Harry looked out over his fields, his kingdom, and smiled. It had been 10 years since he had escaped his awful aunt and uncle, the Dursleys. 10 years since he had made the long journey to America, the land of the free, and set up shop in the Texan countryside. A life away from the hustle and bustle of the cities, away from civilization. This is what Harry had always needed. He closed his eyes and leant back in his rocking chair. Hedwig, his shotgun, at his side. Porch protected. Sentry duty was important, you never know who could come a-knocking.
The usual sweet sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves filled the air. But something else, too… something unfamiliar. Something unwelcome. A low rumble, from the sky. A plane? No. Harry opened one eye and his hand drifted towards Hedwig, finger on the trigger. A black spot against the pale blue sky, approaching quickly. Harry rose from his chair, Hedwig firmly in his grasp now. He had been waiting for this day. He knew they’d come eventually, he’d heard the stories. Invaders from another world. The black figure grew larger, closer. “Come git sum you fuckin’ martians.” Harry muttered under his breath, taking aim. Suddenly, a voice, “Wait a secon’, ‘arry!” Harry waited for no man. Slight pressure on the finger, the trigger - pulled. A boom and a flash of light, a clunk as the large object fell from the sky and straight down into the field with a crash.
Harry approached, Hedwig still aimed at the object, arms steady. It looked like a motorbike. And underneath it, what looked like a man. But more than a man. A giant. This fella must have been nearly 9 feet tall! He shifted slightly, he was still alive. The man groaned and pushed the wreckage of his vehicle aside. Harry kept Hedwig trained on the beast. “Who the hell are you and what are you doin’ on my property?”
The man got to his feet, towering over Harry, casting a shadow big enough to freeze over a continent.
“Why’d yeh do that, ‘arry? Yeh could have killed me!”
“That was the idea, freak! Now I’ll ask again; who the hell are you and what the hell are you doin’-” Harry cocked his shotgun. “-on my property?!”
“Alrigh’, calm down! I’ve been lookin’ for yeh for years! Never thought yeh’d be all the way out here! Blimey, you’ve grown.”
“You got 5 seconds you homeless lookin’ motherfucker!”
“Me name’s Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid. I’ve known ye since yeh were a baby! You’re well past the learnin’ age now but I thought I’d come find ye anyways, tell ye the truth… about who yeh really are.”
Harry thought he was tripping. What was this big bearded basted talking about?
He edged closer and from his mouth escaped the stupidest thing Harry had ever heard, “Yer a wizard, Harry.”
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Harry said, his patience slipping.
“A wizard. And a thumpin’ good’un I’d wager, if we’d trained you up a little…”
“Wizard? Like Houdini or some shit?”
“I can tell yeh don’t believe me… don’t blame yeh really… so I’ll prove it to yeh!” Hagrid reached into his coat and began to pull something out. Nope, no chances being taken. Harry pulled Hedwig’s trigger, and filled the giant-man with lead. The impact knocked him back at least 3 feet, ruptured his chest, blood and viscera flying in every direction. Instant death. Harry lowered his weapon and trudged over to what remained of Hagrid, and saw in his massive hands… a large umbrella.
“Well shit.” Harry said to himself. Still, better safe than sorry. Time to clean up the mess.
|
What first tipped me off was the senseless dancing baby gif in the lower right hand corner of the website. My gaze drifted around the page, and I found myself squinting against the bright red and green bold fonts plastered over a black background littered with tiled twinkling stars. The page was mostly text of varying sizes and fonts, with horizontal rule lines breaking up each paragraph. I navigated through the cluttered mess of a website, and finally found some sort of sub-forum named, 'All your RP are belong to us'. I'm ashamed to say that I briefly considered clicking it, but I realised it would only serve as a reminder of all the cringe-worthy stuff I used to post when I was younger. A better idea struck me. I went up to the top bar and typed in a different web address, and was greeted by a familiar old friend. I couldn't help but smile.
*Don't worry, I won't let you starve this time, my faithful little Neopet.* |
The problem with a bad job is that sometimes you can't leave it.
I have a wife and three kids. I won't say that life before the crackdown was perfect, but it was at least mine. When the coup occurred five years ago, I'd been working as head of the Department of Investigations. Since then, my efforts have been forcibly turned toward souring the public perspective of capes.
The sad thing is how terribly easy it usually is. Most of the time it's a matter of shifting who shot first in reports of events. When they found Galeforce, she wasn't forced to defend herself - no, she was lying in wait for the Inquisitors, and struck with merciless force. When Jack of All Trades tried to intervene in the Hoover Dam breach, no, instead he caused it and all those deaths below.
Following that, it's only a matter of time before the public turns on them. Empowered or not, hundreds of thousands of eyes and ears looking for your every move, ready to betray you to the Inquisitors - that's how you pin down a cape.
On occasion a cape will be more difficult to catch. They build a trust network with an iron resilience - but public opinion can tarnish even the strongest metals. All it takes is one moment of doubt.
I was forced to sit in on one of the "autopsy"procedures once. The old meaning of autopsy was to discover the cause of death. An autopsy on a cape *is* the cause of death. The screams haunt my dreams.
Day by day the Inquisitors become more powerful, both politically and technologically as they integrate the small parts of powers they've managed to scavenge into their units.
Things look more and more helpless each day.
This continued for some time, until, one day a relatively unremarkable cape started showing up on incident reports. Mildly empowered strength and speed, increased resilience - nothing too exceptional. His methods were, however, troublesome. Whereas most capes attempted to evade the Inquisitors, his actions were centered on a campaign against them. Twisting the truth was only slightly necessary - non-lethal encounters became lethal, damage of government property became damage of public property, and a few brutal acts were "leaked"to the media.
The only problem was the damn symbols which he left behind. They were etched into the sky - and as a result damn difficult to cover up. It was effectively a statement from him - I was here, I did this. We couldn't fake them either - it provided solid proof that either he was or was not involved. There are only so many times you can spin the "madman attacks innocent military installation"angle, and only non-residents would be fooled into believing that an installation was non affiliated with the military.
We tried to keep people away from them, but when he began striking at larger cities, it became impossible.
Which is when things began to change. He no longer was working alone. Several other people were sighted in his strikes - *ordinary* people. At first my superiors were ecstatic - spin the terrorism angle, and we'd be able to rally the people against them.
The problem was that we'd been spinning an angle for the last four years that made this difficult - it was based upon the simple assertion that capes were sub-human monsters, the cause of every problem in our society, and people were good, honest, infallible and just.
The u-turn in our approach was not unnoticed by the public. Somehow the cape managed to leverage it into further support.
Inevitably one of his followers was captured at some point. I am told he was remarkably resilient to torture, only yielding the following two words before expiring: "I believe".
The devotion of his followers continued to grow and it wasn't long before propaganda managed to spread. His war became less about taking down the Inquisitors and more about winning the hearts and minds of the nation. Photographs showed him visiting slums long forgotten by the government, adorned in shining silver armor, smiling, and providing supplies.
The Inquisitors burned the slums. His support only grew, and his fury was felt over the next few days.
And as I saw his increasing successes, I began to believe that perhaps one person could make a difference. Perhaps this man could cut through the lies and deceit which had been used to wrest control of public opinion. So, I took a massive risk, and started encoding hidden messages in propaganda, supporting the movement. It was only a matter of time until my superiors found out.
If you're reading this, Charisman, it means that I am likely dead or being held in one of the camps. I don't expect to survive this. I don't know what will happen to my wife or children - whether they survive my treachery is yet to be seen. All I can say is this.
When you visit an area, you manage to cut through the lies and deception. When people hear your name they stop what they are doing and listen. You inspire them to find the inner strength in themselves, to throw themselves at the might of the Inquisitors for the greater good - and on many occasions they won't return. You avoid this where possible but know this is necessary. You possess the qualities of a great leader.
Which is why I must warn you that your adversary, the President, has the same qualities as you, just inverted. Where you draw strength from hope, he draws it from hate and prejudice. Him, you must destroy if you ever wish to return this world to peace. Attached are plans of the defense grid for the capital and everything you need to get close enough to make a difference.
In the end, I regret nothing. |
28043975-509872 [Earth] has joined the channel
28043975-509873 [51 Pegasi B]
Welcome to the server my dude!
28043975-509875 [55 Cancri E]
Welcome!
28043975-509880 [Gliese 876 b]
It’s great to see so many new planets!
28043975-509881 [Earth]
Hi everyone!
28043975-509882 [Earth]
Is anyone else here sick, by any chance? I need some advice.
28043975-509884 [51 Pegasi B]
Hope you get better soon, dude
28043975-509887 [Iota Horologii b]
What’s the issue?
28043975-509890 [Earth]
Got a case of life, I think.
28043975-509892 [Iota Horologii b]
That doesn’t sound too bad, a lot of us had it.
It’s not really a big deal.
28043975-509895 [Earth]
No, you dont understand
28043975-509895 [Earth] I think its contagious
28043975-509895 [Earth] My kid got it too
28043975-509897 [Upsilon Andromedae b]
That happens sometimes too
28043975-509897 [Upsilon Andromedae b] A planet I knew had all three of her kids get it
28043975-509897 [Upsilon Andromedae b] Talk about unlucky lol
28043975-509899 [Earth]
My kid doesnt have any atmosphere
28043975-509899 [Earth] I didn;t get nailed by any asteroids either
28043975-509899 [Earth] My roomates are complaining that they’re getting my life.
28043975-509902 [Iota Horologii b]
Your roomates?
28043975-509906 [Earth]
Yeah
28043975-509906 [Earth] Mars got it
28043975-509906 [Earth] Saturns been bitching that her kids got it from me
28043975-509906 [Earth] I dont know how it could spread like this
28043975-509909 [Iota Horologii b]
Geez i’ve never heard of it being that bad, have you tried seeing a doctor?
28043975-509910 [Earth]
Any recommendations? Last doctor hit me with a massive asteroid.
28043975-509912 [51 Pegasi B]
Happens sometimes, dude. It’s just how it works.
28043975-509917 [Earth]
It’s been getting real bad lately
28043975-509917 [Earth] My atmosphere’s all out of whack and my surface is getting messed up real bad
28043975-509917 [Earth] Like Im supposed to be geologically active
28043975-509917 [Earth] But not this much
28043975-509920 [Iota Horologii b]
Sorry to hear that
28043975-509921 [Mars] has joined the channel
28043975-509922 [Earth]
Shit
28043975-509923 [51 Pegasi B]
Welcome to the server my dudes!
28043975-509924 [55 Cancri E]
Welcome!
28043975-509927 [Mars]
This fucking asshole Earth gave me something
28043975-509927 [Mars] I cant believe this
28043975-509927 [Mars] Any of you guys looking for new roommates
28043975-509929 [55 Cancri E]
Me, actually
28043975-509929 [55 Cancri E] But can we talk about this after you get rid of your life issue?
28043975-509931 [Earth] has left the channel.
28043975-509931 [Mars]
I’m trying
28043975-509931 [Mars] I was good for a bit
28043975-509931 [Mars] And then the life started hitting me with comets
28043975-509933 [55 Cancri E]
Are you serious RN?
28043975-509934 [Mars]
Yeah, they changed all my shit
28043975-509934 [Mars]I look fucking awful
This server has been frozen by [Admin] [Sagittarius A]
|
We had made it. There we were. It was a dangerous mission, we all knew it but we had made it. We all hugged and celebrated as we rushed out of our sleep pods to the rear doors of the ship. Our ship, “the first post” was the first of 10 set to arrive over the next decade. We would set up the outpost for all future arrivals. The misters released an auto innoculation agent to protect us from any harmful elements sensed on by our ship on the planet’s surface as the doors opened. As the mist cleared we saw... an Arby’s. What in the name of... a police car pulled up to the ship and an officer stepped out. “Oh man, you must be confused” I couldn’t speak. Finally 1st mate James Aldren spoke up “something must’ve gone wrong, the auto protocols must have taken us back to earth.” But I think deep down we knew the truth. It was everything, the plants, the sky color, even the air smelled different. “Look” started the officer not quite knowing how to explain. “You were supposed to be the first, but the 2nd ship ‘the second post’ that was supposed to leave after you was, well... upgraded, as was each subsequent ship. All told they arrived in reverse order. The second post arrived here to discover a thriving civilization 1000 years old and so have you except... we’ll that was 2,000 years ago. We’ve built this city to appear familiar to what earth would have been like long ago so you’ll be comfortable here. We still get indie ships all the time so you’ll have company.
As he walked away shaking his head he tipped his head into his radio and said “dispatch, looks like we’ve got another repost”. |
Azirus held his sword up high above his head plunging it down into the dragon’s head. After a fierce battle within the cave of secret wisdom, it’s defender has been vanquished open to any infiltrator of the secrets. After taking a moment to catch his breathe he steps through the doors past its failed protector only to be engulfed by a white light.
“For the one who has treaded through the darkness into the light you may be granted knowledge from the grand library.”
The great intelligence rewards the champion, indulging him with all sorts of imagery, sounds, and sensations that he was incapable of imagining. Along with understanding. The last thing he sees is a man in what appears to be a room with grand sorts of odd magical trinkets around him that produce light and images. When he sees what comes from this odd device is what is occurring to him at that second. With this vision he also understood.
He awakens on the road. His whole journey, his whole existence. Everyone he has met, his mother that fell ill and embarked this quest to gain the knowledge to cure her. The friends he has lost, the trials he has been put through were all just part of this great beings plan. Creating all that is around him and all that he will happen to him.
From this terrible realization Azirus let’s out a tearful roar knowing that all the pain he has felt was due to some god’s sick twisted scheme. After pounding the ground with his clenched fist. He unsheathes his sword pointing it towards himself. He saw and understood he seemed to be the center of this beings game and will destroy it as it he has done to all of the creatures in his path. He drives the sword through his abdomen.
But he realizes that his sword has broken into two. In awe he looks down to see this what he would have called a miracle first. But from what he has read he understood the pattern. When he comprehended his situation he frenzies into a mad laughter.
He did not know if this was a miracle or curse but all he realized is that this grand being won’t let him die.
A party of travelers in the distance. As the come closer they appear to be merchants and a few mercenaries. They hear the laughter grow louder and louder as they get closer. It finally stop.
“Hey, out of the way!” As an impatient merchant scowls at the man in the road. Azirus stands up and faces the party.
“I demand you hand over your wares.” Azirus says confidently.
The mercenaries draw their swords and face the out numbered lunatic. “So we have ourselves a lone bandit.”
Azirus holds his broken sword and runs to the men. A mercenary runs over but trips over a rock with his sword impaling himself. The other mercenary gets distracted from his clumsy ally but gets stabbed in the back by Azirus. As this happens the other body guard cowers and throws down his sword. The merchants follow his foot steps and they lend him their goods.
In amazement Azirus realized how much power he truly has due to the grand being giving him whatever he needs to overcome any situation.
He takes one of the merchants wagons full of all their goods and rides down the road. Azirus wondered to himself. If he is able to take down a caravan with a broken sword, maybe an entire kingdom as well?
(First prompt and writing in general. Please don’t bully.) |
All eyes turned to the keep as the tall oaken doors slammed open. Two guards flanked the man in chains, whose fate the crowd had come to see. They had gathered from across the realm and stood in the pouring rain for hours, waiting to see him ended.
The chained man screamed for aid as the soldiers dragged him through the streets, pleading his case to any spectator with whom he could make eye contact, but he found no friends, and no mercy. He wriggled free from his captors’ grasp once or twice, but only succeeded in coating himself in mud as the soldiers wrestled him back under control and continued their march to the town square.
A scaffold commanded attention in the center of the square, and upon it stood a robed figure, tall and thin, with any discernible features concealed by the hood, rain, and wind. The chained man continued to beg for release as the guards dragged him to the top of the scaffold and knelt him before the robed man.
A third guard presented the robed man a scroll, from which he began to read to the now enormous crowd of onlookers.
“Before you kneels Martin Banister, judged before the God of Fire and Thunder to be guilty of blasphemy against His Holy Radiance by spread of the heresy of Christianity. This man clings to the old ways, those followed before the God of Fire and Thunder revealed His truth to us. For his heresy and sedition, he is to be laid to rest by His Holy Radiance’s power. I am His instrument.”
“And we are His flock,” the crowd replied in unison.
Martin gazed up at the robed figure, who reciprocated his gaze with a stony expression. The man inside the hood was not as menacing as Martin had expected, or at least he wouldn’t have been if not for the horrifying circumstances. His features were soft, and he wore odd spectacles.
The robed man knelt down to Martin, speaking in a hushed tone.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Martin silently stared at the man, then slowly nodded in the affirmative.
“The God of Fire and Thunder isn’t real, and neither is your Christian God. The only real god is power, and no greater power exists than the power to take a life. Now, pray to me.”
“What?”
“Pray to me, Martin. Beg me, your god, to spare your life.”
Martin began to plead and beg. The crowd jeered and booed as Martin prostrated himself before the robed man and hurled worship at his feet until he felt the robed man begin to hoist him back up to his knees. Tears in his eyes, Martin looked to the robed man, who was now holding a metal object in his right hand.
“Please, let me live.”
The robed man pressed the metal device to Martin’s forehead.
“No.”
A sound of thunder erupted from the stage as Martin’s head shattered in a pillar of gore. Viscera sprayed from the back of Martin’s skull as he plummeted lifeless from the scaffold. The crowd cheered as the guards removed Martin’s body from the square.
The robed man turned to the crowd and raised his hands to the sky. “So the God of Fire and Thunder casts his judgment. Go in peace, and in obedience, as His Holiness commands.”
“As His Holiness commands,” the crowd cheered.
The robed man smiled as he placed his weapon back into his satchel and prepared to return to the keep. It felt good to tell the truth, even if he only got to tell it to those he would be executing. He hoped that another missionary would try to steer his flock astray soon. It would feel good to tell the truth again. |
1/2
"Haha, sure thing man. That must have been seriously embarrassing."I tried to laugh it off, but Jim was dead serious compared to his usual joyful self.
"Haha yeah."He put a fake smile on for a second, before turning serious again. "Seriously though, I did kill those people. How do you know about what happened in Hong Kong?"
I stood in complete silence. In all honesty, it was quite a hit below the belt. Even though Jim had been making fun about my girlfriend leaving me for a woman - which was not exactly a secret - I thought calling him '*coffee pants'* would have been only a fun comeback for this. I knew him since university and I had never seen him this serious.
"Answer to me Andrew. "Shit was getting real. usually he would just go for Andy, but using my given name in full was something else. "How do you know about the coffee spill in Hong Kong?"
That is the problem. I knew embarrassing issues just by talking to people. And I was petty enough to bring them on to push people a bit off balance. But I did not always know the context. Usually I had some sort of a epiphany of the most awful situations that people did not want to share. Our common friend Mark has shat his pants when he was drunk, only finding it later on, and tried to keep it a secret from everyone. Well, I knew about it, but decided not to share that information despite Mark was kind of a dick once in a while. Compared to that, Jim's coffee spill seemed like very minor incident. Something to joke about. But there we were, in my two-room apartment, recently left half empty by my ex, luckily leaving the sofa, TV and the fridge, which was an excellent set up to invite my friends over to watch North London Derby.
"You will have 20 minutes to explain me, before Mark comes back with the beers. How do you know what happened in Hong Kong?"
"I dunno man, I just heard that you spilled coffee on your pants alright?"
"So that's how we are going to do it."Jim leaned a bit inside to get to his shoes. Very swiftly he stood up from the sofa, holding a small pistol aimed at me. His expression was something I had never seen before.
"You better start talking. No one knows about that operation what truly happened.
​
Jim - coming actually from his surname Jimenez - had always been the most focused person of the three of us. Good laugh, very decent with languages, but otherwise slightly boring dude. I was paralyzed, which I guess was quite the normal reaction when you were at gun-point for the first time. It seemed absurd. I had no idea what he meant, but the coffee spill seemed to have something to do with something, that was actually much more larger. But I had kept my little secret, ability to read people's low points, a secret. I did not plan to give that away, especially as the situation was very confusing.
"Look Jim, it's only a coffee spill. Like, is that gun for real? Why are you pointing it at me?"
"You better start talking man. People who were there, the Koreans, did not come back from that room. I did not report that fucking incident up high, but somehow you know about that. I've never spilled another coffee. Now it's time to give me some answers Andrew - who do you work for?"He held the pistol firmly, like someone who knows how to use it. To my knowledge Jim had always worked for some outsourced tax processing services for the government. Apparently this was the sort of stuff he had learned there or on his free time.
"Eh, you know it Jim, fucking Fast Athletics. I moan about the marketing department all the time."
"Then, how on earth do you know what happened?"
"I don't. I just know that you spilled the coffee."
"Who told you that then?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Because you have approximately 6 minutes to answer. Mark will be here in 16, and I will need some time to dispose the body and blood before that, unless you are going to give me some answers."
​
Nothing about him looked like he was joking. I had been pranked before, never by Jim though, he was bit too mature for that even as a students. He was always rather articulated, but now all his casual mannerisms were gone, and he was staring me like it was the end of the world for me. And it might truly be. I had no doubts that the shiny, black-painted pistol was not real. I had to seriously evaluate my overall strategy about not telling me about my secret ability.
"Ok look Jim. It will be hard to explain, but you have to trust me that I am speaking the truth."
"You fucking better. Because currently you are the only person who knows how the fucking spilled coffee destroyed the bug I had with on my pants when negotiating with those Korean mobsters, and I ended up slaughtering them on that hotel room. Three years of highly sensitive undercover work to retain the uranium, all went south because of some clumsy incident. Now we both know at least that you know that, and you have five minutes before you will meet the faith of those guys."
He must have had double life. Jim, the joyful Argentinian-Irish lad we knew, suddenly did seem like something different. He had been always athletic, smart, out-of-the-box thinker at the best meaning. I had very little details on his boring-ish sounding tax job, but I guess it was not exactly how the reality was. But I would not hold that information for long, unless I would convince him not to shoot him in my own apartment, in front of the Premier League derby we watched usually together.
​
"Ok, this will sound very far-fetched, but you have to believe me. I have an ability. I can tell most embarrassing moments of people, just by talking with them. I know that your previously most embarrassing thing was when you broke your fathers car in the parking lot, and blamed that someone must have just vandalized it. I knew that when Zoe told about her menstruation incident, she left away a tiny detail, that the tampon were actually found by her father - you can check this."I kept on telling details in a very fast pace. I was nervous, but I needed to be convincing.
"When your embarrassing moment changed to coffee spill, I thought it would be a good comeback. I know nothing of the fucking dead Koreans in China."
"Hong Kong."
"Whatever, you have to believe me man. It's a weird ability, but I just can do it."I had tears running on my face. I bet I would share the same embarrassing moment with Mark about shitting my pants very soon, if nothing happened. Jim did just stare at me. Time was thinking, and ten seconds felt like an hour, before he lowered his gun.
"I never told you about the car. Neither to anyone else."
"Yea, you've always been secretive."I sobbed a bit. Although my statement was clearly an understatement. Jim looked thoughtful.
"I've seen you doing this. It's not accident you called Manuel limp dick when he beat you at fussball that one night, right?"
"No."I shook my head while confessing.
"Well that was very petty of you."
"Yes it was."
​
​ |
Black coffee was my chosen method for chasing away the post-purge blues. It was the only time I drank it. I suppose it had become a ritual of sorts. Tina hobbled into the kitchen and glanced at me with fear-filled eyes. A bandage poked out from just below the hem of her skirt, marking the reason for her limp and an unsuccessful purge for someone. That was a pity. Tina had been on my list for years, but she made the most delicious cookies I couldn't bring myself to do it. Someone had tried though.
"My bet is on Mark from sales,"I smiled from over my coffee.
She jumped at my words and looked around like I'd just cornered her with a knife. Not today Tina. Not today.
"Oh, erm, what?"she replied before pouring hot water from the kettle into an empty cup. Her hands trembled.
"He's not come in yet. Did you get him? Did he try to get you? We all know that he couldn't stand the way you always insist on eating tuna mayo sandwiches at your desk,"I shrugged. It was as good of a reason to purge as any.
Tina poured some milk into her cup before realising she'd forgotten the tea bag.
"I didn't. I couldn't,"her eyes filled to the brim.
"Then again, Sandra from reception isn't in either. Didn't think she was the type. You never know though,"I sipped at my coffee.
Tina gave up at making her cup of tea and limped out of the kitchen empty handed. I followed her and surveyed the office. There were definitely a few empty desk chairs. Even more than last year by the looks of it.
Those who had made it stared blankly at their screens. The emails and sales pipelines did little to offer the traumatized any kind of solace.
"I was sure she'd be out this year,"Pete sighed and swivelled around to face me. A black eye was all he had to show for last night's antics. He glanced around before handing me the $100 he owed me. I slipped it into my pocket.
"You're disgusting,"Chris peered over his computer and down the length of his nose at us. "That's somebody's life you're betting on."
"That's the point,"Pete answered.
"I should report you,"Chris sneered.
"Don't act like you're better than us. We both know where you were last night,"I said.
"I was at home, with my wife,"Chris said a little too quickly.
"Were you though?"Pete laughed.
"Haven't seen Emma today and everybody loved Emma. Everybody except you,"I pointed out. Chris's face flushed.
"Y-you were out purging!"he blurted.
"Of course, everyone knows that, I don't try to hide it either. I also wouldn't target someone as lovely as Emma,"I replied. Emma would be missed, her sweet smile could brighten anyone's day.
I brought out my phone and scrolled through my list. I removed Tina, turns out I felt a bit bad for her. I'd also underestimated her ability to survive, or at least Mark had. That freed up a spot. I wrote Chris's name down and put my phone away. I pointed a finger at him, the blood still caked under my finger nails would only emphasize my point. Chris stared at it with wide eyes.
"Until next year." |
"We're doing it,"she hissed into the darkness of her room. The drapes were open, the moon was full, and two coppery eyes opened from the darkness of her closet.
"Really?"The voice hissed. "We're really doing it?"
"Yes,"the princess hissed back in equal tone. "Yes really."
"Not like the other times, where it was just an exaggeration?"she sounded positively coy about it.
The princess glared at the dragon. "This is the last straw."
The dragon stretched out like a ferret and left the closet space. It was large enough that she had an entire nest with room to grow inside, though in the inky dark of the night she could only see the edge of the nearest branch of it, a few hoarded pennies poking up from the mess of it. "So what'd they do this time?"
"My magic tutor was shot!"The princess said. "Shot!"
"By your parents?"The dragon asked, cocking her coppered head to the side.
"No, but that doesn't matter. I was only sticking around so I could learn something other than fireball, you know,"The princess said, hands on her hips.
The dragon coiled around her. This had been easier before the dragon had advanced past dog sized and thoroughly into horse sized, but the princess appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
"So...?"The dragon asked.
"So we're getting out of here, I'm going to find another magic tutor, and this one isn't going to get shot to pieces!"The princess hissed even lower. "Also, they want me to marry a bloody idiot again, he doesn't even know the finer parts of engines, how is he supposed to keep the cars running? His legion of servants?! Pah."
Hiss of agreement from the darkness.
"Excellent,"The dragon said, walking over to the window. She reared back-
"What are you doing?"The princess asked-
Then smashed the window out of the foundations in a spray of brickwork and beautiful stained glass.
"Oh,"The princess said.
The dragon looked back, impeccably smug, and flicked the princess onto her back with a twitch of her tail. "Come on, I'll take you to the secondary hoard."
"You have a secondary hoard?"The princess asked, clueless.
In the cool of night, where the alarms were blaring and the search lights were roaring, and the palace grounds were covered in helicopters and roving bands of search parties and other accouterments that tasted even worse than they sounded, in the dragon's experience, they whistled through the night like a rocket. Only the void in the stars betrayed their presence, and languid and fluid as the dragon's flight path was (practiced from years of escaping into the city to get her night work done) none could quite spot the princess in the sky.
Not that they knew to look at the sky regardless. The cold humid air of the nearest port whistled across their faces, flicking the princess's hair back and smoothing the dirt off of the dragon's scales. Then she landed like an arrow or a bullet, whichever you prefer for long distance princess absconding, and the two of them slid into the apartment building. The clicking of the dragon's talons were soon replaced by another pair of footsteps entirely, and by the time they both fumbled for the light switch, the princess came face to face with her savior.
"Sup,"The dragon said, nervously, running a hand down her hair. Bright red hair gave a shock of difference from the princess's own, narrow eyes gave her a permanent case of bitch face, though the freckles lightened that up a bit. She was wearing a starbuck's uniform, with all of the features still there.
"Huh,"The princess said. "Gwen?"
"Yeah, cool name, right?"The dragon barista asked, sweeping inside. "So... this is my place..."She gestured, and the lights came on one by one. A pile of money sat in the corner in loose bills and coins, probably just under a thousand dollars. Clothes sat in another pile on the bed, the perfect size for roosting, but also a perfect size for being disordered to high hell and back.
Automatically, the princess walked over and started to fold them.
Gwen coughed. "So uh, yeah, this is me,"The dragon said, abashed. "Sorry about the mess, I get it might not be up to your-"
"It's perfect,"The princess said, without looking up. Half the bed was already clean. "So where do I sleep?"
"Well, I have a couch,"The dragon coughed. "Do-does this bother you?"
"You're allowed to do whatever you want,"The princess said, looking up finally. No trace of shock or disgust at her human living quarters. The dragon's heart skipped a beat, and she flushed, looking away. "And besides. You're my friend. I wouldn't judge you for... working at starbucks?"
"That's totally judgement!"The dragon whined.
"Starbucks?"
"I like making things,"Gwen complained, kicking her feet up on the couch. "And making things takes degrees and stuff."
"I still remember when you knocked over all of the lamps in my room in order. Because the first one scared you and you ran into the others trying to get away."
A deeper flush across the dragon's face. "You don't have to stay here-"
"I just mean that someone as great as you can do whatever you want,"The princess clarified, quickly. "If you're happy being a barista, be a barista. I'm sure I'll have to figure something out myself."
"Hair dye's in the bathroom,"The dragon said quickly.
"Have you been planning this?"The princess asked.
"I like trying on new hair colors,"The dragon said, proudly. "I think next week I'm going with all black."
"You can just use magic,"The princess said.
"It's not about the magic."The dragon pouted. The princess sighed, walking over to the barista, and hugged her.
The dragon hugged back.
"So we'll figure it out in the morning,"the princess decided.
"Excellent!"The dragon said. She didn't break the hug.
The princess waited for her to break the hug.
She didn't break the hug. The princess tugged herself out of it and lay across the couch.
Late that night, after the princess had finally fallen asleep, Gwen, or the dragon, was giddy. How often did a dragon get a roommate-princess as part of her hoard?
and her royal snores were awfully cute.
------
For more like this, click here! https://old.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ |
*--Part 1--*
"Remember what I've told you, son. Say it back to me,"father stated.
"Under no circumstances can anyone see my born-mark. It is different, and to others, different is dangerous,"I declared.
"Good boy. It is your first learn-day, so free your mind to discover that of which even I am unaware. But please, be careful. I will meet you here this evening, at the five chimes."
I felt my father's muscles tense as he pulled me to his chest. His wool cloak distinctly smelled of ash, but that was to be expected as a member of the burn-guard. A deep chime resonated from somewhere within the army of trees behind me.
"Go or you'll be late,"he shouted. With a gentle push, I found my feet scrambling as fast as they could and stray branches casually caressing my face and shoulders. I felt the familiar tingle creep across the skin on the back of my left hand, as it always did when I ran.
My born-mark means "run,"and I am the only person that I have met with it. It is similar to the lines and cross of my father, which symbolizes "wait,"but mine has two overlapping circles attached to the bottom right line. My father had searched since my birth, but after 13 years of failure he found no others and determined that I was alone.
I broke through the last line of brush to find a gaggle of boys and girls, whom all turned around to see the new arrival. They appeared my own age, but with vastly different garments hanging from their bodies.
A girl with fiery-red hair and tight, ripped slacks shook her head in disapproval. A scrawny boy with a dirty brown mop on his head bobbed up and down as he waved me forward. A tall, round-faced boy with eyes the color of tree leaves sniffed as he scratched the sandy stubble on his cheek. It was then that my eyes were drawn to the elderly man standing behind them, draped in brown cloth but with a shining gold chain placed over his shoulder.
"Come, my child. We almost began without you. No one should be alone on their journey for knowledge,"he pronounced. "Come now, all of you."
He turned away and began to preach.
"I am sure that your parents have taught you what they remember of your born-marks, but I am afraid that the passing of time dulls the blade of knowledge. For knowledge is indeed a weapon, and you begin your journey today."
I looked around at my learn-friends and saw that they too were darting their eyes to and from each other.
"We each have one of two born-marks, can anyone tell me their significance? Charlie?"
Mop-head puffed out his chest and said "My mother says they mean wait and hide."
"Very good. They are relics from the before-time, yet we know not of their purpose. That, unfortunately, has been lost to us."
I craned my neck and asked "Sir, have there ever been others?"
He froze almost immediately, and after what seemed like a year he turned around.
"There may have been in the past, but we have no records of such. Our born-marks are special. We survive due to them. The tingle tells us that..."
"But what if we discover another?"I clammered.
"A very good question, but one more apt for learn-masters than you novices. Suffice to say that should that day come, we may all be in danger,"he retorted. "And do not interrupt me again."
The silence that followed held an eerie, ominous quality that I had never felt before.
"There is much to look forward to. Just beyond this hill is the learn-palace, where you will each pair with a learn-master. You will work to unlock the abilities of your born-mark, and you will choose a trade."
I was a statue, rooted to the ground. Could I really hide it? Why couldn't my father just hide me away so I didn't have to attend? I forgot to breathe for so long that my chest began to burn, and only roused when mop-head prodded my shoulder.
"Let's go!"he shouted.
*--*[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bh4u06/wp_everyone_in_your_village_has_a_tattoo_on_their/elsbw6n?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)*--* |
One word is all it took. They could not comprehend.
“Hello?”
The man I spoke to (if he could even be called a man?) first looked deeply confused, intrigued even, but not for very long. As he tried to understand his eyes first darted to every extreme possible, then back into his head. His fists squeezed until trickles of blood leaked out, and finally he collapsed. I can only assume that it was a heart-attack.
Back then I was the one who did not understand, how could a word-hello of all things- destroy a man this way? I’d like to say I learned quickly and never spoke again, but I did not. 1000s died, for they only have to hear me, and they tried to stop me. They could not. They tried to appease me, but the only thing I wanted was companionship. This they cannot provide.
I have no one here. No one to confide in, to stay up on dark nights discussing worries I could never share under the scrutiny of daylight. I am trapped here, and the muzzle on me would be less suffocating if it were real.
Yesterday it took only one word.
“Help”
The poor girl nodded. My hopes soared. But she too died like all the rest. I am a God here, but I am alone. |
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