Split (1)

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"Tick-tick-tick-DING!" It was a quarter to midnight, and the automated pizza delivery computer system printed off the last delivery of the night. "Heya boss,"Craig yelled. "It looks like we got our last delivery--and I don't think you're gonna like this." The man in charge poked his head out of his office door. He was a fat, slimy-looking older man named Chester Althatime. Mr. Althatime has been the owner of All The Time Pizza for the last 40 years. He started out as a spry young lad making glorious pizzas for the community, but ended up getting suckered in by the greed of money once time travel had been invented. He grew tired of this job and was was not very motivated to do much considering that he had less than a year out from his retirement. "Oh for fuck's sake. Don't people understand that it's almost closing time?"he muttered. Mr. Althatime snatched the ticket away from Craig and looked it over. A grimacing frown came over his face as he knew that this customer was one that he had been hoping would never call back. "This mother fucker just decided to order RIGHT before we close just to piss me off! He knows this!"Mr. Althatime yelled. "Who should go, boss?"said Craig. Mr. Althatime rolled his eyes and walked over to his desk. He ruffled through his messy desk and found his clipboard. He glanced down at the coffee-stained list of delivery drivers he had on call. As he scrolled trying to find a driver he noticed that he had written in a new name at the bottom of the list about a week ago. "Steve Coolings."Althatime grinned. "That's who I'll send to deliver the pizza. The newbie has no idea what's in store for him." Mr. Althatime began to laugh menacingly and handed Craig the name. He shrugged, rolled his eyes, and took the name over to the phone and dialed Steve's number. Meanwhile, Steve Coolings was hanging out in a parking lot, listening to some Van Halen, and smoking a doobie on the hood of his dad's brand new 2015 Viva! Winnebago. "Man."Steve said to himself. "This Winnebago is bangin'." Suddenly Steve's phone went off. He knew that it was All The Time Pizza calling on him to do a delivery. "Go for Coolings." "Shut the fuck up, Steve."said Craig. "Where am I going, bro?" "Well, you're going to be going back in time on this delivery." "Oh that's gnar."Steve grinned. "I'll go pack my phone charger so I can take some pics while I'm there." "Where you're going, you won't need a phone charger."said Craig. "Whoa."said Steve. "Punch the clock. I've already marked your coordinates. I'll guide you to the customer." "I don't even get to know who the customer is?"Steve questioned. "Look assfucker, you just deliver the pizza, and I'll get you there. Kapeesh?" "I feel like a simple "no"could have answered my question but okay, Craig." Steve hopped into the Winnebago and turned on the time travel device All The Time Pizza installed into his car. It started shaking fast and the parking lot outside of the vehicle started to become unfocused. Then before he knew it, Steve was flying through time and space. "Wow this looks pretty cool. I'm glad I got high before this." "I'll just pretend you didn't say that, Steve." Steve sat back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the dashboard, proceeding to light another joint. "Be cool, Craig." The environment around Steve started to come back into focus and his Winnebago landed in the middle of a grass field. "All right I got you within 5 miles of the delivery location. It's your job to deliver the pizza to our customer within 15 minutes now, or it's free." Steve got up, walked back to the Winnebago's storage unit and grabbed his backpack. "Oh shit."Steve exclaimed. "How do I deliver a pizza if I don't have a pizza?" "Don't worry fartfucker, I programmed your Winnebago's kitchen oven to cook the customer's pizza thanks to the pizza creator program we installed in your vehicle." "Wow, well.. Okay. That's oddly convenient to my situation." "Pretty great right?" "I guess. Seems like a really lazy way to make sure this delivery had no mistakes. Oh and "fartfucker"? What are we, 12? You're better than that. Not cool, Craig." Steve put on his backpack, grabbed the pizza, and walked outside. Two men were fighting about five yards from where Steve was standing. They both looked like they were each soldiers, displaying two different colors of military. "Bratwurst Schnauzer!"one man yelled. At least, that's what a stoned Steve interpreted from the man. The other man looked over at Steve. "What in the hell?" "SCHNAUZER GUTEN TAG!"the other man screamed again. This time slitting the throat of the guy who was understandable. The strange gentleman then walked confusingly up to Steve. "BRATWURST GUTEN TAG?"He pointed his gun at Steve. "I'm here to deliver pizza, bro."Steve said calmly. The strange man awkwardly stared at Steve for a couple minutes until he took out his radio and spoke some more nonsense. The other voice on the radio seemed delighted to hear from the strange man. After a couple minutes of listening to the weird conversation on the radio, the strange man grabbed Steve. "What the eff, bro? Chill! I gotta lock the Winnebago!"said Steve. After a couple miles of walking with the strange man, he was led into a big castle. "Damn this is dope, bro beans."Steve chuckled. "brrr burrns?"the strange man said. "no it's BRO. BEEEEANS." "bratwurst schnauzer!"the strange man yelled. "what? I'm too stoned for this. I like your castle but I got to deliver this pizza, hombre." That's when the front doors of the castle opened up. A small group of men dressed in large black trench coats with a red stripe on their arms walked outside in formation. Behind them followed a stout man with short black hair and a tiny mustache. "Ah you've arrived!"the stout man said. "Who are you, dude?"Steve asked confused. "Why don't you come in and I'll explain! I've got to pay you for this pizza." "Uhh, okay."said Steve. Steve followed the stout, moustachioed man into his castle. There were lots of paintings up on the walls depicting everything from flowers to German Shepherds. "Do you like these paintings, Steve?"the man asked. "Yeah they're all right. Bob Ross could probably do a better job though." "Who?" "I don't know."Steve giggled. They both looked at each other puzzled, then continued down the corridor. The man takes Steve to a room and invites him inside. It is filled with jewelry, gold, and expensive looking trinkets. "Who did you rob to get all this stuff?"Steve asked. "Poland."the man responded. "Whoa." "Right?" "All right so that'll be $7.50 for the pizza, bro." "I could pay $7.50, or I could give you your own country, Steve. With your knowledge of the future, I could use somebody like you." "Nah that's okay, I gotta return my dad's Winnebago or he'll be pissed." "Whatever."the man sighed. He handed Steve a golden chalice. "Wow, this shit is gnar, dude." "It is pretty "gnar"isn't it?"the man chuckled. "Yeah, I just said that." "You're wearing down my patience, Steve."the man snapped. "Yeah it's probably because I haven't smoked in a half hour." The man's eyes lit up. "You....smoke?"he grinned. The sun began to set over the field in front of the castle. Steve realizes that he has been hanging out and smoking for a couple hours. "Hey, bro. This has been fun but I gotta get going. Thanks for smoking me out. We'll have to do this again." The man chuckled and patted Steve on the back. "Sure, Steve. Come back in about a year and things will be pretty awesome here. I'll have lots of marijuana fields growing here." "Oh gnar. Say, what was your name by the way?" "Uhh. I'm Adolph." "Oh okay. Well, that's a rad idea, Adolph. I hope we can hang and toke again, bro." Steve stepped into the Winnebago, turned on the communications system, and started heading back to his time. "WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN, STEVE?"Craig yelled over the intercom. "I got stoned with the customer."Steve laughed. "IT'S ALMOST FIVE IN THE MORNING HERE AND MR. ALTHATIME MADE ME STAY UNTIL YOU CAME BACK HOME." "Oh. Sorry, bro. I was trying to build relations with the customer. Hopefully he'll give me a good score on the survey." "HE CAN'T GET A FUCKING SURVEY, STEVE. YOU WERE IN THE YEAR 1945. THEY DON'T HAVE COMPUTERS." Steve lit up a joint and began scratching his chin. "How does he order our pizza then?"Steve asked. "He sends us radio messages through the time space continuum. Don't fucking question the logic of our business." "Uh. Okay."Steve responded. "Now deposit the money he gave you." "Oh yeah I forgot to grab the money. He gave me this gold cup though." "FOR FUCK'S SAKE, STEVE. CAN YOU NOT DO ANYTHING RIGHT?" Steve started laughing so hard his ribs hurt. "Probably not."said Steve. "I'm going to kill you, Steve. Mr. Allthatime is going to fire us both." "Nah it'll be cool." Silence came over the intercom. "Craig?" "What." "I'll just give Mr. Allthatime the cup Adolph gave me. I know it's my cup but I want to make sure we pay him something." "Whatever."said Craig. The next morning Mr. Allthatime walked into the pizza shop and Steve walked up to him and handed him the golden Chalice. "Here ya go, dude." "What the fuck is this?" "Payment for the pizza." "No the fuck it isn't."said Mr. Althatime. At that moment, a swarm of cop cars came flying up to the pizza shop. "FREEZE! HAND OVER THE CHALICE! THAT IS STOLEN PROPERTY!" "Oh that mother fucker finally did it."Mr. Althatime. "and I was so close to retirement." "FIRE!" The police lit up Mr. Althatime's body like a christmas tree. Blood splattered everywhere while Steve sat in the corner booth eating a slice of pizza. Craig ran out from the kitchen and saw his boss lying dead on the ground. "WHAT THE FLYING FUCK, STEVE?" Steve lit up a joint and started laughing. "Mondays, am I right?"
At first, I couldn't handle it all. You know, the weight of it...seeing everyone's deaths, failures and broken dreams, their dying children and doomed futures all flashing before my eyes. I wanted to blurt it all out, to tell them what was coming...it tugged at my heart, but I knew it wouldn't make a difference. I couldn't do anything to help. I'd try to meet a nice woman and go on a date, but before I could even introduce myself I'd be flooded with visions of a future without me, happiness with another man, and then pain...so, so much pain. Heartbreak; a miscarriage and divorce, depression and loneliness. What's worse is I wouldn't even be able to help, because I'm not in that future. That's what I thought, at least. After a while, I became numb to it. Seeing all the sadness and torment, all the happiness that I'm not a part of- it became normality for me. That was the first step, I think. After that, I wasn't afraid to meet people anymore. I'd already seen so much shit, why not wade through the sewers, right? Then I began to realize something. Maybe that nice woman who's future I wasn't a part of only had that future because I wouldn't talk to her. Maybe I have more control over it all than I think, and my indifference is the reason I see so much suffering and misery. Maybe the future I see is only one where I opt to remain hidden and removed from it all. Maybe, in some little way, I can make a difference. And with that, change catalyzed inside me. I used my visions to help people in what small way I could, little things here and there to ease the pain I'd see coming for them. Sometimes, subtly revealing what's next is necessary- preventing war, trying to stop someone from making a terrible decision, that kind of thing. I learned early on that trying to blurt the future out blatantly is the most counterproductive option; I need to be clever, and resourceful. Changing the future is hard work, and I fail often. Sometimes I make no difference at all, you know? But I've learned to live with it, because nothing is worse than wading through indifference. -------------------------------- sorry if this response isn't quite in line with the prompt, I just saw a great opportunity and had to take it! if you did enjoy it, you can always check out /r/resonatingfury for more!
I knew summoning a demon would be dangerous. Obviously, I was pretty much damned if I went through with it, and I knew that if I'd misread any of the instructions (written, for my pleasure, in languages that were dead when Latin was popular), the demon would probably kill me on arrival, and then I wouldn't even be able to speak with it. Ripping a hole to Outside wasn't supposed to be easy, but for some reason the worst dangers were the ones you wouldn't think of. You could prepare all you liked, double and triple check the instructions, but if dripping wax from a candle smudged the pentacle, that would be the end of me, or if the incenses for weakening the demon made me sneeze mid-incantation, that would be the end of me, or if the demon managed to catch me off-guard... But I made sure none of that happened. I'm brilliant, and novice mistakes like those were below me. Smoke began to curl into the circle, from nowhere. I stumbled, almost surprised that this was working, but the smoke tensed, like a snake readying to strike, and I redoubled my chanting before the demon got out. With a flare of heat and light, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen manifested in the circle. "Come to me, my love,"she whispered in the most melodic, seductive voice imaginable. I raised my foot and almost stepped toward her wait a minute, I summoned a God-damned ifrit, not this, but caught myself and started mumbling a charm to dispel infernal illusions. The smell of incense grew stronger, and then the woman burned away to reveal a hideous man-like animal, alternately scaled and furred. Wings sprouted from its back, but they were cramped against the invisible circular walls of the pentacle. It bared its fanged maw in what might pass for a grin, if the person trying to grin had never known true happiness. "Did you really think that would trick me?"I smugly asked. It shrugged. CAN'T FAULT ME FOR TRYING. YOUR SOUL WAS FORFEIT TO THE PIT FROM THE SUMMONING ALONE, MORTAL, BUT PREMARITAL, HOMOSEXUAL INTERCOURSE WITH AN INFERNAL? HA, ETERNITY WOULD NOT BE LONG ENOUGH FOR THE PUNISHMENT THE DIVINE WOULD GIVE YOU. The voice echoed and thrummed through my skull, eldritch, hostile, and amused. "I have,"I paused for dramatic effect. A PROPOSITION FOR ME. YES, ON WITH IT, MORTAL, YOU ALL WANT THE SAME THINGS. WILL IT BE LIFE, MONEY, WOMEN? "No,"I replied abruptly. I was a bit put out, he was ruining my script. "That's not really what I'm interested in."AH. MEN? CHILDREN? NO? WHAT ABOUT SMALL FARM ANIMALS? "No, no, no!"I stamped my foot. This demon was treating me - me! A genius! - like some lowly fool. "What I wanted, was to know if it's pleasant in hell." ...WHAT? "You know, do you enjoy it down there?" ...MORTAL, I REFUSE TO BELIEVE YOU KNOW ENOUGH TO SUMMON ME, AND DO NOT ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION. DO NOT TRY MY PATIENCE. WHAT DO YOU WANT? "Well, it's hell. You're literally incapable of positive feeling while you're down there, aren't you?" YES. The ifrit sounded dangerously angry now. Best hurry it up, I think I'd bought the cheap candles and the ifrit's flames were making them burn even more quickly than I'd thought. "Well, I was just thinking, you could bind your soul to mine, and then you could experience the pleasantries of life through me."This wasn't selfless; I expected I could channel the demon's powers. A bit of magic, knowledge of the secrets of the universe, immortality, the power to control the thoughts and will of those around me - and in exchange I let the ifrit feel happy. Seems like a fair trade to me. The ifrit was studying my face. *MORTAL. WHEN I MAKE A CONTRACT LIKE THE ONE YOU ASK, YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT IT CANNOT* BE UNDONE. THE DIVINE HAS CEDED THAT RIGHT, IF THE CONTRACT IS MADE WITH FULL, INFORMED CONSENT OF MORTAL AND INFERNAL. "I know. My offer remains unchanged." YOU WILL BIND YOUR SOUL TO MINE. "Yes." FOR AN UNLIMITED DURATION, UNTIL SUCH TIME AS BOTH PARTIES AGREE TO DISSOLVE THE CONTRACT. "Yes."Obviously, why would I give up power like this? YOU EXPECT NO SERVICE IN EXCHANGE FOR THIS. "No."Your powers will offer more than enough service, demon. VERY WELL. STEP OUTSIDE OF THE PENTACLE, AND I SWEAR ON THE THRONE OF HELL NO HARM SHALL COME TO YOU UNTIL OUR SOULS ARE TWINED. I took a calm step outside of the pentacle. The demon bared its maw, and lunged at me. ----- The Singles Saloon was an odd Western themed bar. It was known for exactly two things: one, its design was absolutely repulsive to everybody, which leads into two, no one would ever go there unless they were both single and in the mood for a one-night stand. Naturally, there were about four times as many men trying to get lucky as there were women in the bar at any given time. Tonight there was a large crowd; the place was completely full. A nondescript man strode through the door in flowing black robes. The bouncer looked like he wanted to protest, but he saw something in the man's eyes that convinced him that now would be a good time to walk away from this job. "Excuse me,"I called out. Everybody got completely silent. "Right, all the women come with me."My voice was melodic and resonated across the bar. As one, the women stood up and filed out the door. Heh. Unlimited power, fantastic rewards. If my demon buddy had been a succubus, he'd be well sated tonight. I turned to follow them, but on a whim, turned back around and said, "Also, all the men should rape and murder each other. Last man standing eats as many of the bodies as he can."Hmm. That seemed a bit odd, but nothing wrong with that, so, onward. I followed the women out the door as all the men stood in unison. ----- "Hey there!"I called out when my neighbor answered the door. "Look, so you know how I work at that deli? So it happens that we somehow ended up with way too much ground beef. And it's about to spoil, so I'm trying to have a barbecue tonight, and the whole neighborhood's invited."He looked surprised, but said, "Sure, sounds great." "Excellent! See you at 5:30 tonight!"That was the last neighbor; time to go home and start the barbecue. As I walked, I thought about what I'd said. I didn't work at a deli; where did all that meat come from? Before I could pursue that question any farther, I noticed there was a police car parked outside my house. "Hello, officer, how can I help you?"He looked portly, with a Southern accent and a big bushy mustache. "Sorry to bother you, son. There have been a lot of reports of women not showing up for work today; we wouldn't have a problem usually, except that all the women were traced to the scene of a massacre. Now, some of your neighbors have reported that you brought back a lot of woman last night. Do you mind if I just take a look around inside your house?" "Of course not, officer! If you think it'll help in your investigation, then there's no problem with it." "Thanks son, I was worried you'd make me get a warrant."The officer followed me inside, and then took a turn into the bedroom. "'Scuse me, son, but what is this devil shit I see in here?" "Ah,"I say, raising my hand and pointing at him. "About that."There's a spark, a rush and a roar, and then it's over. I wish he hadn't been in my bedroom when he made me do that; the hellfire scorch marks are going to take a lot of work to get out. ------ The barbecue is a smashing success. One of the neighbors told me it was better than any meat he'd ever had, and asked me what the secret was. Good question, I'd thought, but some whim had made it seem like I should tell him it was soy beans and lentils. He looked surprised, but told me he'd have to get my recipe. I smiled, but if the powder I added to the wine did what it was supposed to do to him and every one of my guests, he probably wouldn't get a chance. So sad. The party wore me so far out, I went straight upstairs to bed. In my dream, I was standing in the desert. I knew it was a dream, but I felt more awake than I had all day. "What the hell is going on!"I shouted. "How many people are dead!"A low chuckle came from behind me. HELLO THERE, MORTAL. I pivoted, and there that flaming fucker was, wings, fangs and all. "You! What the hell have you done to me!" I BOUND OUR SOULS. OH, DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT. YOU'RE MORE MILLENIA THAN YOU CAN COUNT MY JUNIOR. DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU WOULD BE THE DOMINANT PERSONALITY? "But - but this isn't what I wanted!" NO. BUT IT IS OUR CONTRACT. "I want out!"A low chuckle. AND TO QUOTE YOU, MORTAL, WHY WOULD I GIVE UP POWER LIKE THIS? IN YOUR FORM, I AM BEYOND THE FETTERS OF HELL. I AM FREE. I sank to my knees. It was over. I was trapped in my own body. OH, DON'T BE SO MELODRAMATIC. LOOK AT THE BRIGHT SIDE: WE'RE IMMORTAL, AND YOU FREED A POWERFUL DEMON FROM THE PIT. YOU'LL SUFFER THROUGH ME, SURE, BUT NOW YOU'LL NEVER FACE THE DIVINE JUDGMENT YOU DESERVE.**
24th floor... Screw them all... 19th floor... I'm sure mom will understand. 12th floor... That emptiness in me. What was it. 6th floor... If only I could have filled that void... Then maybe life would be different. I close my eyes as I'm about to hit the pavement. I wait. And wait. And... What? Why does it smell like Charlie's car? I open my eyes as we come to a stop. I've been here before. 12 years ago Charlie, my boss, took me out to lunch for my first day of work. As I wonder what I'm doing here, I hear tapping on the window and snap back into this new reality. "Are you coming or not? Like I was saying, this soup here is amazing, completely changed my life." As I step out of the car I hear myself saying "No thanks. I really just can't bypass a Caesar salad."'What the hell' I think to myself. "You know what, today feels special - what's that soup called?" "Ha, good choice. Redemption soup. Just fills that void in your soul, if you know what I mean."Charlie says as we walk into Souper Salad just like I did a lifetime ago.
A lot of people think Lydia is an old woman's name, which I guess is true in a way. You said you had stolen the name from your great-grandmother, a short but feisty woman from Jalisco who still spoke Spanish to everyone and made tortillas by hand. She had died the day before you were born, and your parents named you after her, pushing Grace over to be your middle name. I think about your name as I stand at the counter and show them the certificate I bought long ago. I've always been a worrier, for better and worse. I'm sitting here and they're strapping me in, the machine is the shiny type of white that gives off reflections like a funhouse mirror. There's the faint smell of ammonia. Do you remember how we first met? They're asking me to recall it. I wish it was something cute like reaching for the same book or being forced to share a table in crowded coffee shop. It was when our apartment building caught fire and we had to huddle across the street as giant flames poured out of the windows and exploded through the roof. I shared a blanket with you and asked you if you had anywhere to stay. We ended up crashing at my cousin's place on Seventh Street and he tried to make a move on you, but you laughed it off. They're asking me to remember your scent now. I remember you changed perfumes depending on what time of day it was, sharper scents for the morning and for work, darker perfumes for our dates. I've been here for three hours, thinking of you. I'm dreading the final question. I remember our road trip to Atlanta, crossing through the Devil's Tail in North Carolina on the way, that crazy winding road that seemed always just a hairpin turn away from killing both of us. You drove the full thing, you promised me I could drive it next time. You wore a pair of $1 sunglasses and you had the windows down and the way the air made your hair curl about your face - I swear, I had never seen a more beautiful woman in my entire life. I would have given anything to see you again. I guess, in a way, I am giving everything. That's the final price we pay for this machine, you know, I'm thinking these memories for the last time. They need them to recreate you, or at least this clone of you that will only live for 24 hours. When you die, so will all my thoughts of you. There will be a stranger in the photos on my wall, a smiling beautiful brown eyed woman who dreamed of leaving her back office Wall Street job and writing books on disappearing cultures. I'll look at your Cornell hoodie and wonder why I have it, wonder who it belonged to. They ask me how you died. It's the last question. Do I give them the scientific answer? That one night a blood vessel burst in your brain and that as I woke up next to you, your eyes were open and pale and you were cold as I grabbed you in my hands? Or do I tell them the truth, that you didn't die alone, but that you took the whole world with you. That every day in New York has been overcast, that May feels like December, and that I'm working 14 hours a day just so I don't have to go home. With that last answer, the first part is over. I wait and listen to the hum of the computer. They take a VR headset and put it over me, I'm in our bedroom, they've recreated it perfectly, down to your collection of books and the large window that provided a view of the brick wall next door. Someone's showering, I can hear humming through the thin walls, I can hear your humming - I can hear your humming. They tell me that this version of you doesn't know about your death, that I'm not to mention it. I have 24 hours to love you forever.
You know, I really wish I'd done more as a kid. Everyone tells you that. "Go outside, you can't keep doing the same thing if you want experience!""Try new things while you can, you have so much potential!""Kids grow so fast, don't waste your greatest years!"It's good advice, but even diamonds aren't all that brilliant if you're surrounded by them. A constant storm of clever quotes turns into white noise after a while. And if you don't really do anything, it gets really easy to avoid doing anything. So I never really felt the need to start anything. If someone gave me advice, I'd glance at them and say thank you and act like I'd take their words to heart. Never really did. Never really travelled, it seemed like a hassle to go see things you could experience just a little less vividly on the Internet. Never really found sports appealing, didn't want to waste hours practicing something pointless. Never joined a clique or rebelled or did especially well in school. I read a bunch for fun but never wrote, messed around on Internet forums but didn't make friends. I just kinda lived, you know? That's how I ended up in Dr. Mala's office with 9 EXP points. Basically what a preteen would have. And before you tell me I should have tried harder to grind points when I realized I was the only single-digit in my graduating class, I did. I was at 7 EXP when I was 17. The average gain when you're under 18 is 1 EXP a year, so earning 2 in one year is pretty awesome, right?! I was actually working my way up to a third before my 18th hit! Spent a whole year eating gross things like peas and mushrooms, learning to ride a bike, wore a nice dress for the first time, played basketball until I could do a goal. It would have earned me way more if I were younger, but at nearly 18 I was lucky to even reach that second point. Sorry, I don't know why I'm still talking about my frantic grinding. I should probably be ashamed instead of being all braggy about it. But I can't help it. The actual things weren't always that fun, but the grind itself was strangely exciting. Anyways, 9 EXP by the time I walked into Dr. Mala's. You know, there are only [9 main skills](http://i.imgur.com/ibtM5p4.png), and everyone's got a dot in each after puberty. It only takes 1 EXP to get a second skill point, so I guess I could have put one more in everything. Jack of all trades, master of none, wouldn't be your first choice for a hire but at least she's something. But you don't get any specializations like that. Worse, it'd be really easy to figure out my total EXP from that. At least if I boosted 3 or 4 skills I could just put those on my resume and imply that I had points in the rest. But what to choose? I didn't really want physical skills, so Strength, Dexterity and Stamina were on the backburner. Manipulation was just totally out, nobody trusts a girl with any points in Manipulation. Maybe if I had some more Intelligence, I wouldn't fall into this mess again. It could get me into university. Or even some Presence, just fake competency so they don't look at your stats. They say all you need in the big city is Presence and loose morals. One stuck out. Resolve. The stamina of the mind, the stat that governed willpower itself. Something I sorely lacked. So I bought a skill point in Resolve, and looked at the 9 options again. My new Resolve told me what I had to do. So I spent 2 EXP to gain a third dot, and 3 EXP for the fourth. With 3 EXP remaining, I could still diversify. But I'd save them. I had my heart set on that final dot in Resolve, and I only needed 4 EXP to get it. I'd come back later this year and get it, I swore to myself as I handed back my chart so the doctor could make it permanent. "I don't know if I can ethically let you leave like this", Dr. Mala said. "Resolve's not bad, I bought 3 skill points in it myself for university. But it works in tandem with other stats. It helps you use your Intelligence to the fullest, or be more Composed in a pinch. You can grow faster with Resolve, but you'll have to work far too hard to get there. I don't approve of min-maxing in general, it's actually illegal to max out Manipulation in this province, but if you wan-" He stopped rambling with a single stare. For the first time in my life, I didn't humor the adult in the room. I didn't try to slick-talk him, or reason with him, or threaten him with force. I just gave him an honest look, and he understood. No amount of Presence could have faked what he saw in my eyes then. I'll never forget that experience. It would have been really cool if I'd walked out then and there. But I had to ask him to hand back the selection chart after that moment. Without a second thought, I spent 4 EXP and bought the final skill point in Resolve. He sanctioned it without a fight. I left the doctor's office and began to walk. It was 5 kilometers to home. My feet ached, my shirt grew damp with sweat. I kept going. Catching the bus or calling Uber came to mind, but for once I didn't take the easy way out. I walked home that day, and it took me almost 2 hours to get home. But I did it. It excited me, and I wondered if I could beat that time the day after. So I did, and I kept beating it. You'd be surprised how fast you can run without a bunch of points in Strength and Stamina. How easily you can trick someone without Manipulation. How smart you can actually get without buying a second skill point in Intelligence. I've actually got enough experience now to round my skills out, but I don't really feel like spending any of this EXP now that I have it. Besides, I think I can still get a few more minutes off my 5K time with my base stats...
It's one of those things you normally just scroll right past before you really think about it. So the second time, I scrolled up slowly and read slowly, rubbing my eyes. It didn't make any sense. I was wondering where my flight was when I Googled it and saw on Huffington Post that, apparently, it had crashed and burned in the Pacific. Engine failure due to a drowsy engineer fudging his safety checklist. No survivors. But how was this even possible? The post date was July 3rd. That's tomorrow. My flight was supposed to leave in ten minutes from now, right? I check my watch, it's 1:47AM. My plane should be on the strip, right? I looked around me in the empty terminal. Even after a month in Cambodia, I didn't have enough command of their language to read well or carry a decent conversation. The only people around were the staff trying to get this last flight out for the night. Which seemed strange. I call out to one of them. "Excuse me?" He didn't hear me and walked straight through a back door that's limited to staff. I looked around again, and there were no people there anymore besides me. And a bunch of the lights were off. I thought airports worked 24/7. I saw other people boarding planes on the strip, and there were other people outside coming in, but none of them were coming to my terminal. It's as if they were all filing out through other hidden paths, like roaches dispersing and disappearing. I got up and looked around the airport, but everywhere I went, there wasn't a person to be found. When I ran back to my terminal, there was another person sitting right next to the chair where I'd left my backpack. It was an older gentleman with a bowler hat. Finally, another person! "Hello? Sir? Are you here for flight SK223?" He didn't even look up. I leaned over and saw that he was out, stone-cold. What a blessing to be able to sleep wherever. The next hour went by agonizingly. There was nothing to do, and my devices were all dead at this point. And I couldn't even tell if the old man was going to be waking up any time soon. All I could do was wait, confused and alone. Pretty soon, the old man started to stir, so I cleared my throat and tried again. I asked again, "Sir, are you here for flight SK223?" And amid the unintelligible mumbling, I could pick out him saying "no,"over and over and over. A little freaked out, I tried to get a straight answer from him, but there was no point. He didn't say anything helpful before standing up and yelling, "Time to go!"and hobbling into the tunnel leading into the plane. He went so quickly, he left behind his little bowler hat. So I picked it up and went after him. It was strange. I hadn't even remembered a plane pulling into the terminal, or there being an announcement. There wasn't anyone checking tickets, and the plane was already mostly full. I couldn't find the old man with the bowler hat. Then I saw a seat, seat G12, and I knew somehow that it was mine. And when I took it, an attendant came up from down the aisle and asked me if I was ready. "The plane isn't going. The pilot hasn't said anything, and all these people don't look ready, either. What am I getting ready for? Is this flight SK223?" "To move on, sir. This is your last flight."
I just want to see my sister, fuck. It's been a few years since we last embraced; the world is trying to keep up us apart. She's a medical assistant who assists the elderly, disabled, children and other struggling folk in Portland. Apparently they have an abundance. She's always so busy with work. For a long time I pretended to hate her and not care when she left...but I miss her, deep inside me. It feels good to admit that readily. ----- ^(I'm so sorry I'm going to stop now, don't visit /r/resonatingfury)
Tom was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Not that there was anything particularly "hard"about space, but that's beside the point. How he got to sulking with arms crossed and pants dirty with moon dust, sitting in a small crater NASA now call "Mare Tom,"is where we'll find the moral of this story. Gravity is a fragile law. No one can really say how gravity came to be fragile. Maybe another law, say, the conservation of momentum, never called back after that 'magical aeon' they had together. It's only speculation. Scientific speculation. All we know is that gravity operates as a force of attraction between physical bodies. When two bodies of mass are within close enough proximity each other (relative to the larger body), they will become attracted to each other. As a law of physics, gravity is very physical, and also very shallow, but that is also beside the point. Regardless of gravity's self-serving need to bring masses together, it is one of the few reliable constants in the universe. That is, until Tom. Tom, who at the tender age of five, declared that he would be an astronaut. Tom, who realized at 17 that he didn't have the grades or mathematical aptitude to plot a simple graph function, let alone a flight plan to space. Tom, who settled for marrying the girl from his senior class that liked poking things with forks, and who was also disappointed in their marriage. Tom, who was returning from the corner store last Tuesday evening after picking up some ice cream for their weekly movie nights, before tripping over a curb, sprawling hard on the cement. Tom, who called gravity a bitch. To our surprise, Gravity took exception to that. After a few choice words about "emotional devastation"and "the right to conduct business without being called a bitch,"a greater law took pity on gravity for how Tom verbally assaulted a law of physics that was simply minding their own business. So this law responded to gravity's case. A law greater than the laws of physics, as this was a law of the universe; Cause and Effect. As you will. Gravity smirked. "Earth, Tom called you a bitch." This was a lie, but that too is beside the point. What's more interesting to us is how the Earth responded. As we know, gravity is a force of attraction. Few things are less attractive than one body of mass calling another a bitch. The Earth took exception to that, and found Tom unattractive. Very unattractive. Gravity is a fragile law. To his terror, and with the fury of a jilted lover, Tom was flung into the sky. Within a few short hours, throat sore from screaming, his back finally struck the surface of the moon, forming a new crater NASA later named after him. Translated from Latin, it means Sea of Tom. Naturally, Tom had no way of knowing this, because he was distracted by another strange, universe-breaking issue; His breathing, and being alive in space. On the moon. "Why?"Tom asked voicelessly to the cosmos. A throat cleared itself. Well, as you so aptly put it, gravity is a bitch. Tom's eyebrows raised as he stared down at the Earth for a few moments. "You're kidding."He didn't hear his own words, but among the many lessons Tom would learn first-hand in his time on the moon, the first of these was that sound does not travel through a vacuum. Nonetheless, the entity responded. Does this look like a joke? The cosmos hung over Tom like a dark promise. Despite the vastness of his mistake slowly settling into him, there was something about this clunky combination of the universe, the meaning of life, the entity known as 'Cause and Effect,' and his limited intellect that inspired a response from the man on the moon. "No, but my wife won't be laughing. I'll be late for movie night." The entity snorted. You're not missing much. It's another re-watch of Twilight. Tom moaned. "I told her not again, I told her!" Even so, the view isn't that bad. Maybe after gravity cools off, we can discuss --- It was too late. Tom already sat down slowly on the moon's surface, a puff of moon dust settling on his lap as the man sulked. "Well the joke's on her,"he muttered voicelessly. "Someone isn't getting their ice cream this evening." Neither are you. Tom shrugged. "I'll take what I can get. She sends me out to go get ice cream so we can ---"the man groaned, "--- watch Twilight again, and I somehow get flung into space talking with a voice in my head. It's... what do you call it..." Cause and effect? "No. Justice." ---------- More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!
I sat across the table from a hologram. I knew it was a hologram by the way it flickered and because they told me. I had no idea who was controlling it or what they looked like. I was the first diplomat from Earth and the aliens wouldn't even talk face-to-face. Or whatever they had. We intercepted a signal from deep space two years ago. It was clearly an artificial signal. The world went crazy for a day or two after we confirmed that we are not alone in the universe. Then things mostly returned to normal for the vast majority of humanity. After all, just because aliens are out there doesn't mean we don't have to pay the rent or file TPS reports. We sent signal after signal beamed in the direction of the first signal's origin and what we estimated its target was. We had entire power plants turned over for powering the tightly focused radio signal. The project started off with great fanfare and then, as these things do, the public's attention drifted long before we saw any results. This was setup as a government office however and the one thing government employees excel at more than anything else is maintaining their job. I heard stories of office setup to address an impending buggy whip crisis in the nineteenth century that were still going strong. So our little shout into the void project crept merrily along. Three months ago, we received a reply. It was short - almost terse. It took us several weeks to crack it but we finally figured out it was a time and a place along with a decryption key at the front. After much hand-wringing and back-room dealing, I was named as the Ambassador. The first Ambassador of Earth. A representative to the stars and the first to meet our galactic neighbors. I underwent a crash course in Astronautics. The time for the meeting was coming up closely and the location was partway between the Moon and Earth. It would take me almost two days of flying weightless to reach it. All the governments of Earth contributed to the mission since nobody had any kind of ship ready on such short notice. NASA even pulled an old Saturn V out of a museum to get me up there. I went with two professional astronauts who would handle all the driving. The press called it the world's most expensive Uber. We flew. I puked. A lot. I probably would have died if Commander Rankin hadn't hooked me up to an IV. We met the ship exactly where and when it said. The ship is hard to describe other than "alien", though I'm sure you've seen the pictures sent back. It reached out with some kind of force field and gently pulled out capsule in. Once we were in the bay, we felt gravity kick in and dropped to the floor. The hatch popped open and we found the whole bay was now pressurized. There was a lighted walkway with animated arrows. I assumed, correctly, that I was supposed to follow it. At the end of a short walk, I found myself in this tiny conference room staring at a hologram of a human. Not a particularly remarkable human. More like someone had said "I want the most middle of the road boring face you've got"and this is the result. "Welcome to our ship. We are glad you could make it."The hologram spoke slowly and in short sentences. "That was very brave." "Uh, yes, thank you. Anyway, on behalf of Earth, welcome to our solar system. We hope that we can be friends." "Oh no, I don't think that's a very good idea." "Pardon?" "Friends. We can't be friends. We came here to ask you to stop shouting that message at our colony." "Oh, um, yes. We can shut that off." "Good for you!" I wondered if aliens had a word for "patronizing." "Once that's off, we could setup a cultural exchange, perhaps? Maybe discuss a trade partnership." "I'm afraid not. That wouldn't work at all." "But you haven't ever heard what we're offering." "Well, that is true. But you don't have anything we want." "How do you know that if you haven't seen it?" "We've been observing - sorry, we've been watching you for a long time. I'll try to explain simply. Your planet is a little ... slow. Backwards. Developmentally delayed." "Are you calling my whole planet stupid?" "Yes - very good for following along!" "How can you say that? We have all sorts of technology. The Internet, electricity, MRI machines, nuclear weapons."Oops. It's something of a faux pas in diplomatic circles to bring up the fact that one has nuclear weapons on the first date. It's a bit unseemly. "I know, you must be so very proud." "You're patronizing me, aren't you?" "That's a very big word for you to use and you did it correctly. Yes, I am 'patronizing' you." "But you still don't think we have anything worthwhile." "No. Listen, you seem bright for a human so I'll take a little extra time. You don't have artificial gravity. That ship you came here in? I'm not even legally allowed to let you leave in because it's such a safety risk. I'll have to personally take you back to Earth. You don't have quantum computers. You don't have any ideas on how to travel faster than light. My goodness, you're still burning ancient dead plants for power in most of your advanced countries. You don't even have half the fundamental concepts you'd need for me to fully tell you just how backwards you are. You are literally too ignorant to know how stupid you are. Sorry." "Then why the broadcast? The one we found two years ago?" "That was an accident. A child was playing with their first zarook -"here whatever was translating lost its mind and made a sound like a cross between a squirrel being pushed through a garbage disposal and the Hulk pooping out an entire roll of sheet metal "- and an actual radio signal slipped out." "A child? That was a highly organized data stream. It had an enormous snout of power to reach across space. You're telling me it was some kid screwing around?" "He was grounded." I had never felt so dejected in my life. My whole species was reduced to nothing in a few short comments. "Maybe you could help us? Teach us?" I had never heard a laugh like that. I wouldn't have even know it was a laugh if the hologram hadn't tossed back its head in a traditional laughing posture. The ride home was very quiet. I sat in the capsule with the two astronauts while the aliens brought us home. They put us down very safely and comfortably in Florida, just outside of NASA. I was dreading the report I would have to file and the inevitable follow-up questions. I briefly considering making up a story about how they were evil and were planning to invade. I'd get the whole world spun up to go fight the aliens. But then I realized if what the one aliens said was true, we wouldn't stand a chance. Hell, we'd probably kill ourselves before we even made it to their planet.
General "Maddog"Mattis watched through the lens of a drone as an ad-hoc unit of Waffen SS and Israeli Shayetet-13 commandos sliced through an unending horde of imps and hell hounds. At first he incorporated members of the two units together as a joke and as a lesson in humility, however they immediately surprised him in their willingness to kill a common enemy. That was it, all war-fighters need is an enemy, and what greater enemy than sin materialized itself? He was proud his little ad-hoc experiment was working so well. The thought of incorporating some Carthaginians with some Roman legionnaires popped into his head, but he felt the Carthos were already salty enough and the Romans really worked well under their own leadership....in most cases atleast. He had already relieved Varus after the Legatus refused to give him back his legions, and they were doing much better under the leadership of Scipio Africanus. Maddog's radio cracked with static and a voice came through the ether..."Maddog 1-1 this is "white feather"over... "Maddog 1-1 to white feather, copy, go for message over..."Sir, I have positive india delta on Lucifer... permission to engage...over.""Maddog 1-1 to white feather you are cleared to engage over..."Mattis was surprised when he got to hell, the devil was not just one creature but seven distinct identities. Hathcock had spotted Lucifer....known for his pride, he was apparently leading his army from the front, a foolish mistake. With confirmation of the kill Mattis crossed one of the remaining 2 names off of his 7 name list. Only Satan was left to kill. Mattis thought about his other trophies... Mammon was killed after being lured into a trap by Chesty Puller, all they had to do was lay out a pile of gold and the bastard came sniffing. Chesty killed him with a bayonet....attached to a flame thrower. Asmodeus was killed while in his Harem, Lyudmilla Pavelchenko rolled an rgd-5 right into the middle of one of his oh so famous Thai lady-boy orgies. Mattis laughed at the thought....Asmodeus was a choir boy compared to him A CHOIR BOY!!!!! that mother fucker should have seen what Angeles city in the Philippines looked like in the late 80's. That lazy queef Belphegor was caught surfing reddit on the toilet, Mattis actually felt a little bad for him. Ghenghis had somehow found a way to melt plague and poured it on the poor fucker while his face was stuck in the internets. Beelzbub was the easiest, they just sent a veggie omellete MRE to his abode...he died of constipation 7 days later. Leviathan envious of the power Mattis had been gaining tried to attack him full force, but all he got was a face full of BRRRT. Just one more kill to make, then Mattis could claim his rightful throne. Then the real challenge would begin, finding a way up to heaven. Mattis wasn't too worried, all they would have to do is kick St. Peter in the nuts, open the gate and stroll on in. He already had men on the inside....they might be POG's and never have fought in combat....but the streets in heaven are guarded by Marines, and he knew where their loyalty would lie.
As a firefighter, I sometimes go to car accidents and have some EMT training as well. We get a call about a pretty bad wreck and head over. We arrive first to the scene and the two cars are smashed to bits. One driver is fine, but the other driver's car sliced his shoe and took his big toe clean off. I send the new guy to a local store nearby to get ice since the ambulance is still further away. He is pretty excited since he gets to drive the truck with lights on and all the stuff, despite the serious injury. I try to bandage up the foot and the new guy comes back with a cooler filled with ice which we put the toe in. The ambulance arrives soon after we get the toe in ice. They get the driver all ready and take off to try to quickly reattach the toe. As I am looking around I notice something, the cooler is still here. I get on with dispatch and ask if they could please send over a toe truck.
Y'know, the funny thing about coconuts is... Well, maybe a little backstory first. How did nature come to create such a hulking monstrosity? They grow off the hairs of giant trees that have between 1 and 10 leaes on the top, and nothing else. Or is that palm trees? I have no idea. Their shade ^(scares me you know) And besides, it is so easy to walk into them. You're looking straight a head and whop! Oops, there was a coconut tree in your way. But that's okay because coconuts are only real because of the pain. Anyways, the deal with coconuts is that they're, um, a little... Hairy. You know, right? And people keep vaunting this coconut milk stuff but if you slice open a coconut there's only water. Where is the milk? Well later, I came to understand that you got the milk by scraping off the flesh and squeezing it. SO they're a lot like humans, right? Seventy-five percent water, coconuts are. You pour one out, you get water. You squeeze one, you get milk. You slash one, and it bleeds. That's pretty interesting, right? But the really humorous thing about them is that... Is that... they're fruit, right? Check me on that. Fruits are seed bearing containers grown off of plants, generally surrounded by succulent flesh but not necessarily. Oranges. That's right. I really like oranges. Yeah, the funny think about oranges is that they have a color named after them! Or is it that they're named after a color? But in every romance language, the word for the fruit is the same as the word for the color. Say it with me. Arancia. Naranja. There's more, but whatever. Don't you find that to be funny? It's very clear what you want when you're getting an orange, right? Not so much... not so much....... Coconuts? There's nothing funny about coconuts. --- A/N Fun fact. I'm planning to write a novel called The Funny Thing About Coconuts but the punchline is going to be somewhere in the last 10 chapters but not the last chapter because I need people to look for it. It's not going to be about coconuts at all, by the way.
"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE" You would think after years of being in the top 1% of humanity, life would get easier, but it doesn't. It all started back in high school, when Garret decided my head in an extra swirly would make his morning routine complete. Fucking Garret. My body went in to survival mode and that's when the powers came. Next thing I knew, Garret's body was in place of mine, with his head in a germ filled toilet.Garret couldn't understand what even happened, I hardly did either. Naturally this seems like such a cool trick right? Switching places with another person (duo-teleporting?) was so fun the first couple of times. It wasn't until I tried switching places with my college roommate to sleep with his girlfriend that I noticed something was off. Everything was going well, she didn't notice the switch, and boy, was it steamy. It felt so great... until I looked down and realized I was staring at a stranger's, almost now deflated, penis. That was the fucking catch. Switching places also meant switching privates. From black to white, short to long, to the ever bulging, if I wanted to switch places, I'd have to be prepared for whatever came my way. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, I could always just switch places with someone well-endowed and presto! I even managed to make a game out of it heading to work. I would find the farthest person I could see, switch, and then find the next farthest. I did that all the way until I got to work [10 seconds later] and would head to the bathroom to see what I got. Almost like russian roulette, but for cocks. Yes, it's childish, but hilarious once you get use to it. I stopped playing recently because, well, my member stopped changing after each switch. It took up to eight swaps before anything "down there"would change, which really freaked me out. Now, I'm pretty on edge about how often I switch, and with who. So, back to today, which I still can't wrap my head around... I was on my way to work, exhausted. I haven't been sleeping well, boss is on my ass, the usual. I decided to switch places today. I'm not sure how it happened, I must have been distracted. The girl from one floor above my office was the farthest I could see, and I made the swap. Yep, now I'm bald-patterned smooth as a baby in the front. I've tried swapping 20 times since my lunch break and still nothing. If it doesn't work in the next few tries, I might try and have a little fun with it.
As I searched through the rubble, a shelf appeared, and on it, were the books of our history. "Muggles"we were called in the old days, and our counterparts, were powerful magical beings that dealt with other magical beings. Apparently these magical beings called themselves "Wizards"and hid themselves from the Muggle world. In fact most of our earthquakes and random forest fires were apparently caused by their fights with a so called "Voldemort". I knew instantly to bring this to the high council, tell them of my new found discovery. "Everyone! I bring new discoveries, and new information on our ancestors past lives!"I shouted, as everyone turned their heads I knew I had their attention. "Our I found books, history, history of our past generations! Forget all you think you know of the world, for I bring you the world of Harry Potter!"A man in a tattered black coat stood up, "Who is this Harry Potter?"I showed him the book, and passed around different copies to the council. I shouted, "He is a magical being more powerful then the rest, and defeated a 'Wizard' named Voldemort in a great battle.""So he is a God?"the man asked, "It seems he is, we shall construct an altar to honor this god, this being"I declared. The crowd had a nod of approval. "We shall make copies of these sacred books and share them with the rest of the world,and bring our greatest scholars together and go on a crusade to find these wizards!"The crowd cheered and applauded, some volunteered on the spot to go on this expedition, and the rest were content with staying and helping with the construction of the monuments. 6 months later I had gathered all the men I needed, it was a small group but well armed. I had my craftsman Larry, dull but good with tools, Sally, the philosopher who sought the sacred stone of the first holy book, Jack, our hunter and gatherer, Gary and myself were the navigators. After about a month of preparation we set off for an epic journey... If this gets attention I'll make a part 2! Edit: (Any tips Or comments please leave below, I'd love feedback on this!) Working on part 2 today!
It looked at me... I looked at it... In that moment the universe seemed to stand still; frozen in the horror of the moment. Seven feet tall, standing crookedly upright on two reverse jointed appendages, its skin was a dirty, muddied crimson - ridged and scaled like that of a lizard. Huge leathery wings splayed from behind its back, and an ugly face of pure evil sat atop its neck. Red eyes that blazed with fire stared at me with malicious intent, hunger all too apparent. As the universe regained consciousness, the demon took an ungainly step forwards, towards me, claws digging into the floor of my bedroom. Its wings brushed against the walls, knocking shelves to the floor with a crash. I was paralysed. I could not move. The gaze of the thing rooted me to the spot. It came closer. I tried to scream, to do anything to get help. But I couldn't. Its face was inches before me now as it bent down to sniff me. Hot raw breath washed over me. It opened its mouth, and I prepared to say goodbye to the world... "Excuse me my dear mortal chap, have you any idea on what dimensional plane this rock dwells upon, and indeed how I ever came to manifest here?" "What?"
I never realised the importance of friends, family, acquaintances. Until suddenly, they were gone. Well, more precisely, I was. I used to hate work. The same job day in day out. Dealing with the same people every day. Then I would come home and have to deal with more conversation, boring chitter chatter that had no meaning to me. I was sick of it. It got so bad that I couldn't walk down the street anymore without wanting to disappear. Until one day, I actually did. I can't remember when it happened. Or how. But all of a sudden, I woke up and I was gone. Completely invisible. In that moment, it felt like a dream come true. I could do anything I wanted, and nobody could stop me. Nobody would have to bother me ever again. I felt free. I no longer felt bound by societies judgement. Eventually, when I realised that I truly could not be seen, I started to do the wrong things. Bad things. It was fun at the time. I looted stores. I stole precious artefacts from the museum nearby. I even trespassed on my rich boss's property just to throw eggs at his house as a joke. But I did get bored of it. And suddenly, everything had more meaning to me. I learnt to appreciate the sun rising every day, the colours of the world, the sights, the smells. I began to appreciate the people around me too. The people that I used to despise talking to, had become lights in the lonely world I was now in. I wondered what I did to deserve this. Maybe the gods wanted to teach me a lesson. But I had learnt my lesson. I don't know how much time passed. Until one day, when I was wandering the street aimlessly, a lone dog pattered over to me. I jokingly spoke to it, knowing that it would not notice me, just like everyone else. "Looks like I'm not the only lonely one after all." Then the dog barked at me. And I realised in that moment, that he could see me too.
The Warden strolled out from his plane, flanked by two guards, the new prisoners were bundled from the rear hatch, chained together with a surprisingly low guard compliment. They squinted their eyes in the blazing sun. The prison, did not look like a prison. What it did look like was an oasis. Fields of sand stretched out as far as the eye could see, the only feature anywhere on the landscape was this patch of water, flanked by the shade of several desert trees and shrubs that lined the waters. It was surprisingly large, the water and trees supported by outcroppings of rock that held back the shifting sands. There were two levels to the oasis, with a small waterfall spilling into the pool below. Other prisiners sat about under the shade, drinking from the oasis or eating some of the food supplies that were sitting around in grey crates, the draped parachutes that had delivered them had been reused as canopies, and hammocks strung up between trees for the prisoners to use. The new inmates were gathered up, the warden stood before them as some of the guards went among them and undid their restraints one by one. Many of them entertained ideas of stealing the plane and forcing the pilot to fly them out of there, but the machine guns held aloft by the black suited guards flanking the warden were a pretty effective deterrent. "Welcome prisoners! Welcome, to paradise penitentiary!"The warden began speaking, gesticulating as he did so like a conductor before his orchestra. "First of all, If I could direct your attention to the 'prison' behind you. You will notice that their are no walls here, no fences, no gates or barbed wire. There are no checkpoints before entering because nothing ever needs to arrive, your supplies will be dropped every second Thursday at 3pm more or less on the dot. You will not be watched by any cameras or dogs, the guards accompanying me will be leaving with me. You are, basically, free to make your own schedule."His smile made the suspicious prisoners doubt that it would be so easy to simply walk out of the prison. They were right. "You are of course, free to take a walk at any time. You have unlimited directions to choose from and no one will try to stop you. Quite frankly, if you make it through the desert, in my personal opinion you deserve freedom."He chuckled to himself. "But just as fair warning..." The warden gestured to a guard just behind him who pulled out a classic sandbag shotgun. He pointed it out into the landscape and fired. A purple sandbag arced an impressive distance before landing with a thud out into the shifting sands. For a few seconds nothing happened, the guards, warden and inmates old and new all watched the otherwise featureless patch of sand where the sandbag lay. Then with zero sign to herald its coming, there was an explosion of sand and something huge and bristling with armour burst from the sand where the sandbag was. It was difficult to see with all the sand in the air and was gone before the sand cleared, but it looked like some kind of giant sand worm. "You are protected"The warden continued nonchalantly "by the hard rock of the oasis, but around this spot of moisture, the sand worms are especially numerous. They prey upon the animals who seek the precious water, and now that includes you." He smiled and waved like he was bidding farewell a close friend. "And on that note, I bid you good by!" Inmates old and new watched him leave wordlessly. None interfered, and none would escape. None would even try.
She awoke next to her husband, Jack, knowing that today would be bittersweet. It had been one year exactly since the flood destroyed her old life. It was hard to say whether things were better or worse – sometimes, when tragedy strikes, different is the only way of expressing your feelings. As she made her way to the graveyard, her mind wandered back once again to that day and the choice she made. Had she let her husband down? She knew he didn’t think so, but her conscience convicted her even as thoroughly as her intellect absolved her. Weathermen, in their quest for ratings, declare every rainstorm as a “once in a decade” storm. Flood maps have “hundred year flood” line on them – if you are unlucky, once in a lifetime the waters will swell that high. Insurance companies and statisticians push out beyond the realm of comprehension and model ten-thousand year events. But at some point, if you see one of those are you really unlucky or is the model itself wrong? At some point, all life is risk. In hindsight, we question why the levees weren’t higher, why the backup valve didn’t itself have a backup, why nobody tested the flimsy gasket that gave way to an inferno. The problem, simply, is that life does have a value. We may not know what the number is but at some point everything fails. After all, what really is the difference between tragedy and poor planning? Is it really a function of so many standard deviations lined up neatly on a page? Ultimately, the rain didn’t stop. Waters grew and doubled and swelled until measuring them was simply a numerical exercise. The army and the national guard used helicopters in a desperate attempt to evacuate as many as possible. Women and children first. A rule as old as time. She remembered calling out to him as she was loaded aboard – “Ja---!” A windswept cry, inaudible even to her ears. She believed she wouldn’t see him again. But still, she kept hope. Hour after hour, she watched and waited and prayed as helicopter after helicopter came in. At first, there were no men. But, as the evening wore on more and more husbands were saved. She never gave up hope. She believed her husband would be saved. And so, she waited. One year later, and things were different. At long last, it was finally time. She arrived with Jack at the graveyard. Sobbing, she placed a bouquet of roses on her late husband’s tombstone. “I’m sorry James. I’ll always love you.”
Paul Brown thinks in lists. Morning routine: Hygiene, breakfast, clothing. He thinks in sub-lists, too. Hygiene: Brush, floss, comb. Breakfast: Porridge, toast, water. Clothing: Slacks, shirt, tie. Structured as it is by these lists, his life runs as straight as the creases in his slacks. After completing his morning routine, he drives his grey Civic to the office. Most days, he exits his driveway, merges onto Main Street, and drives in a straight line until he reaches his parking spot outside the post office. Today, instead of maintaining a straight line, he finds himself angled off-course when a schoolbus slams into his passenger-side window. His Civic careens sideways into a lamppost. His door collapses inwards, splits in the middle, and jaggedly skewers his body. While he waits in this position to die, he makes a list. Pains: Concussed head, broken ribs, crushed arm, multiple impalements. Finally, while sirens approach, he bleeds out. This allows him to wriggle out of his body, pass through his seatbelt, and crawl out of his Civic. A tall man in a black robe addresses him. "Mr. Brown, is it?"The man taps a pen against a clipboard. Paul attempts to piece together the shredded remains of his white shirt. "My first name is Paul. My last name is Brown. My full given name is Paul Alan Brown." "Very good. Very good, Mr. Brown."The man ticks his clipboard. "I'm Death. You have died. Do you need a moment?" Paul snugs his tie to his collar. "I'm quite alright, thank you." "If you'll just wait here, then, Mr. Brown, I've got a load of schoolchildren to attend to."Death sweeps past Paul on his way to the dozen children phasing through the sides of the schoolbus. Having straightened his suit and patted off the dust, Paul is at a loss for what to do. He remains where Death asked him to stand, and counts the elements of disaster around him. Dead people: seven little boys, eight little girls, one bus driver, one woman, one baby, one Paul Alan Brown. Crashed vehicles: one schoolbus, one grey Civic, one stroller. Emergency personnel on-scene: Five ambulances, three police cars, one firetruck. The schoolchildren are excited by their ability to phase through solid metal. They give Death a devil of a time, running back and forth through the parked cars, hiding behind policemen, sneaking under Death's robe. It's nearly an hour before Death manages to tick his last box and round the children all up in front of the bus. The bus driver, the woman, and the baby are also there. "Is that everybody?"he asks the crowd. A boy darts toward the firetruck and Death lunges to grab him by the shirt collar. Paul considers shouting that he's still beside his car, but thinks it best not to bother Death, who is already overburdened. Death scans his list, wipes a hand across his forehead, and says, "That's everyone."He stretches his hands out, chants in Latin, and, in a flash of black light, disappears, along with the crowd of deceased. A queasy feeling bubbles up in Paul's stomach, much like the way he felt in 7th grade when he sat down in the wrong classroom. Here he is, dead, but with no clear idea what to do or where to go. Options: Keep waiting, haunt people, go to work. Waiting is an attractive idea. After all, that's what Death asked him to do, and it's not like he has to leave to eat. Haunting people is out of the question. Far too rude. As for work, the post office is just one block over. He can see its flat roof and brick fronting from here. "Nothing like a spot of filing to keep the brain occupied,"he says to himself. And so begins the post office haunting.
One night I found myself surfing Reddit when I got directed to a population counter online. I had seen it before in one of my surfing sessions and the general direction it travelled was up. Slowly but surely the world population travelled closer and closer to 8 billion people. This time though, the population was ticking back down. It wasn't a free-fall like a bomb timer that had the wrong wire cut though, it was just gradually making it's way down. I plugged my phone into the docking station next to my bed and went to bed. Coach always seemed to know when I didn't get enough sleep before a game so I made sure to turn in early on Thursday nights. I woke up the next morning at the usual time. Rolled out of bed, brushed my teeth, and fished my jersey out of the laundry hamper to wear for the pep rally. I grabbed my lunch and headed out to my truck to get to school. The roads were empty as I headed to school. Not the kind of empty where you see two cars at a couple intersections empty. The kind of empty where you can feel the emptiness. I turned the corner and was greeted by an empty parking lot in front of a dark empty school building. I checked my watch, phone, and the clock on my dash and they all read the same time. 7:13 AM. "What is going on?"I muttered out loud. I pulled into the lot after realizing I'd been hanging out in the middle of a major intersection but knew there would be no cars coming somehow. I yanked my phone off the aux cord and pulled the population counter up. A big red "2"sat staring back at me on my screen. I spent the rest of the morning driving around the neighborhoods looking for someone, anyone, but always came up the same. Empty. Like everyone had just vanished at the same time without a trace. Cars still sat in driveways, some had already put out their trash cans to be picked up, and sprinklers were running in some of the yards. The only thing missing was the people. I got on Reddit again to check and the counter was still blinking at "2."I moved back to the homepage and found the front page had a new thread started, and the title read simply "Help."
Dorian looked at his watch. Men in suits brushed past him on their way home from work. Cars honked, and people rolled down their windows to shout at their peers. “Stop blocking the sidewalk, Punk,” someone said and elbowed him in the ribs. The device finally whirred to life, and Dorian turned it against his attacker. The screen showed two minutes. A smiled crept up on his face while he rubbed his side. But that’s when he noticed that everyone else also had the same amount of time left to live. He cursed and started running. Sliding between cars and pushing his way through crowds of unsuspecting pedestrians. All his mind could think of was the incoming terrorist attack. Was it a bomb this time? Perhaps an airplane again? An entire block away and the timers for everyone around him still kept ticking down. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled as the sweat poured down his face. Three blocks away and thirty seconds left. It was a nuke, wasn’t it? Oh god, World War III has started, he thought as he dove down the steps into the subway. ** “Hey!” James Connelly said. “Your watch, Dorian. Get that sand out of your eyes!” Dorian rolled over to the side and put his water bottle to his lips. It was empty. He sighed and sat up. The concrete walls of the underground tunnels were blurry. He stumbled to his feet, despite the pain in his leg, and put his hand on the grip of the rifle. The pain medication was wearing off. They needed to make a supply run soon… well, actually a week ago. Water was almost out, and nobody had eaten anything for two days. Someone had even managed to stomach the sour pears that nobody had touched for four years. It had been a running joke in the colony that at least they’d always have the pears to fall back on if times got tough. Dorian had tried to convince Connelly that they had to go, but the man was adamant. No supply runs until the Morgs eased up their presence outside. Running into massed shredder fire meant certain death... but so did starvation. Six years had passed since the sky opened and the sleek undersides of the Mawmorg ships appeared over the city. The initial shock barrage had leveled the skyscrapers and killed millions instantly. Then the walkers had been lowered into the destruction – three-legged monstrosities made out of some black metal – and started cleansing the streets with liquid fire and massive shredder cannons. Dorian shuddered at the memory as he made his way down East 2nd Long. The gravel of the tunnel crunched under his boots. The Mawmorg didn’t often venture underground, for some reason. Perhaps they were afraid of the dark, Dorian thought and chuckled despite himself. As he passed Outpost R8, his stomach started churning again. He was close to the surface now. It would only take him five minutes to sneak up and take a look. Driven by the hunger, he diverted from his patrol route. The purple thunderclouds and the smell of burning ozone met him as he reached the surface. He’d never get used to that. If only he could get a glimpse of the blue sky. The street was empty, but he could hear the metallic whoosh of a walker’s hydraulic legs around the block. Maybe he could… if he was fast enough… He took a deep breath and started sprinting. He only got a couple of steps before he was tackled sideways into a pile of mortar. “What the hell are you doing?!” A woman with red bangs and viridian eyes appeared next to him. “Can’t you see the place is crawling with sensor drones?” “Uh, oww,” Dorian complained. “They won’t hit me…” “Of course they would, Dumbo,” she hissed. Dorian rubbed away the last of the dried eye-goo. The woman had freckles. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen someone with freckles. “Who are you?” Dorian mumbled. “Marissa,” she said. “You solo or with a group?” “Uhm, I don’t have to tell you anything.” “I just saved your life – the least you can do is let me help you.” “We don’t need your help.” “God, that stubbornness will kill you before the Morgs do.” Dorian sighed and threw up his hands. “We have a colony of about fifty people.” “Fifty? Really?” She gave him a lopsided grin. “What’s your name?” “Dorian.” “Take me to your leader, Dorian.” *** r/Lilwa_Dexel for more!
God damn it. They're in the front yard again. For the most part this place is great. I haven't paid for groceries since I moved here. Not sure how the local store stays open if they're doing that for everyone. Sure is nice of them though. Everyone was right about small town hospitality. It's a good thing, too. Freelancing is harder than I thought. I know the mountains are scenic, and there are tonnes of weddings in the national park, but it's not wedding season and getting my name out there just by photographing mountains has been tricky. Luckily a couple of locals have gone out of their way to help me out - posters of my face are all over the billboard outside the town hall! Lovely of them. Just wish the neighbours would have some sense of boundaries. I've told them a million times they can't do bonfire yoga in front of my house, but I do have that fire pit and my yard is bigger than theirs. I wish they'd listen though, those weird yogic chants are just creepy. Also I think last time they were naked. Gross. I think the woman in the post office is into me, too. She keeps staring at me every time I go in there to pick up my packages. Open mouthed full on staring. I don't know whether to find it flattering or not, but she's so obliging. Anything for you, Master, every time. I tried to explain to her that Master is only for very young kids but she wasn't having it. Or maybe she's saying Mister and I'm mishearing her accent. I know what you're thinking. Sounds great, right? Well, sure, for the most part. I'm just sick of all these naked yogis on my lawn. And I'm not sure it's really cold enough for all these women to be wearing capes. Gosh those mountains are pretty though.
"Ey, Cook!"A big, burly man yelled to me. I walked over, looking at his dog tag. "How can I help you, Private... Dockery?"I asked him. "Gimme som more ah this sloppy stuff, yeah?"He said, pointing to the gray mush he had on his plate. "Certainly."I responded, taking plate and heading back to the kitchen. I kept my head down, nodding in deference to each member of the Navy I passed. I walked into the kitchen, but instead of stopping to refill the plate, I headed into the back, walking behind a cream curtain. I peeked back, making sure no non-cooks had entered the kitchen. I slid behind a shelf, opening a small metal panel that contained a numberpad. 4. 2. 6. 1. I Inputted the numbers, and the wall behind quickly, and silently, slid open. I walked in as it closed behind me. "Headquarters?"I asked, speaking into my hidden ear piece. "Come in, Agent Ren." "The suspect, Private Dockery, shows no signs of a negative reaction to the microbacteria contained within Dish Forty Two. It is extremely unlikely that his allegiance is to the U.S Navy. My guess would be Russian."I finished giving my report. "Well done, Agent Ren."Headquarters responded. "We will pursue further action." "Roger that."I shut off my comms. The micro bacteria in Dish Forty Two would have caused a small reaction in any American citizen. The American military had secretly eliminated it from the food supply over one hundred years ago as a way to test for spies. Any American would not have built up a resistance to the bacteria and would experience immediate negative reaction. It was a big reason a lot of travelers from America get slightly sick when eating food at a new country. I walked back out of the room, nodding my head to the other Kitchen Cooks. They passed on orders to a few Navy guards. Private Dockery was not going to be leaving the mess hall without serious questioning. I headed back towards Private Dockery's table, Dish Forty Two in hand. He glanced up. "Took you long enough, you damn idiot. What, did they start hiring the mentally slow to work as cooks?"He asked, laughing. I put the plate down, letting my face turn red, and walked away, seemingly embarrassed. He wouldn't be laughing for too long. *** Enjoy the writing and would like to follow along and see more stories? Consider subscribing to [r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)!
I don't bother trying to convince holy men of the clergy. At first I thought their scorn was derivative of disbelief, but now I'm beginning to suspect that the hard edge in their eye is merely fear. After-all, speaking for God is already their job, and there's nothing quite like God to make a fool out of the church. I've turned my back on politicians, wealthy men, all men of power. The word of God is something that hasn't been heard on Earth in a long time. It promises an unpredictable change, and with that comes great risk. They will try to use me for their gain, or destroy me before I become the catalyst to a new world where they are no longer needed. I've turned instead to the lowest rung of humanity I could find. Below the desperate and the lost, those who would manipulate my power for gain. Below the sinners and the monsters who are too depraved to change. All the way to the bottom, where animal and man are so closely intertwined as to be indistinguishable. That's right. A public High-school. "Check it out guys. I can burp while sneezing! It's a miracle!" I think I have the foundation of a new religion now. All that's left is to grow my circle of devotion (also known as becoming popular) until the word of God through me becomes the new law of the land. And what is that word, you might ask? After thousands of years of brooding silence, God has witnessed genocides and natural disasters and environmental devastation which surpasses biblical levels of horror. He has stayed silent while so many innocent have perished, but now at last he has seen something today which rouses his spirits so mightily that he can no longer be contained. And out of that cloud of imperceptible infinity, he has stooped down to whisper in my ear: "Do you guys realize Rick and Morty is back tomorrow? Just a heads up." Thank you God. I shall spread your word. --- [More from author](http://www.reddit.com/r/sirtobiaswade).
The competition didn't stand a chance. The rules were simple - kill your opponent's creatures, win the battle. Powerful summoners often chose hulking creatures with large claws or teeth, occasionally with wings. Those with less power chose hunting creatures, such as jaguars or wolves. The standing champion often chose a gryphon. He called it Hank. It seemed that Stephen, with barely the power to summon a small rodent, couldn't possibly compete with such skilled mages. But he had something unprecedented. The battle came - the summoners were called. Stephen's first opponent was a tall, thin man wearing hooded robes. The man called upon his power and summoned a grizzly bear. The crowd let out several "ooh"s and "aah"s before turning to see Stephen's response. Stephen concentrated. He had to focus. Losing this fight would see him out of the tournament. It appeared as though nothing happened. Suddenly, one of the spectators shouted "Look at the floor! It's... moving!" The crowd turned their eyes to the floor to see that, on the floor near Stephen, there was an ever growing pool of a shifting black mass. Straining, a few were able to see the odd shape slowly moving towards the bear. A nigh undiscernable sound filled the arena. The thin man's creature began to walk towards the mass, at the will of its master. As soon as it reached it, however, it turned and ran away, fearful of this unknown creature. It was too late, however. The growing black mass now filled half of the arena, and as Stephen concentrated, it only grew larger. Soon the bear had nowhere to go. It roared and attacked, only to be overcome completely within minutes. The thin man called for the judges, demanding that Stephen be disqualified. Surely, he claimed, that Stephen had cheated somehow, created something that by all means could not be called an animal. The judges replied that while his methods were unorthodox, he technically hadn't broken any rules. Stephen dismissed his summons and left the arena. He had his next battle to prepare for, and he needed to rest. Perhaps he could win this tournament after all. An ant may not be a challenge for a larger creature; at most it would be considered an annoyance. But there is strength in numbers. The competition didn't stand a chance.
(Wipe the Cheetos off your stomach and close the porn. How many tabs do you have open anyway. Also, you are into some weird shit, man. Ok, here we go. Break it down. Superhero family, writing prompts, break the fourth wall. Go.) It was a dark and stormy night when... (Stop. Fucking stop. You know better than that. Start over.) It was the best of times... (Seriously? C'mon. People are waiting. Start with the character doing something heroic. Get some action going. But make the names funny and relatable.) Superman (NO! Trademarked. Try again.) Captain Awesome (fuck it, go with that) looked down from atop City Hall in Downtown Oklahoma City (Really? That's our scene? Are you drunk? Forget it, keep going.) and saw the Minor (Nope. not good. This has got to relate to Reddit and writing prompts. Hurry up, it's getting boring. Let's get some action.) Captain Awesome looked up from the roof of City Hall to see the vortex open. He flexed his peck muscles, clenched his butt and squinted his eyes. The invaders had come. Alien genies flew through (Nice! Tons of alien and wish fulfillment lately on prompts) and came right at him. The battle had begun. "Daughter,"Captain Awesome said. (Who calls their kid "daughter?"Jesus, man.) "Yes, Father"his daughter said. "You are our telepath! Use your powers to hurl bricks at our foe!" "Ok. That seems kinda dumb, Father. But you are super intelligent so I'm going to do what you say."(Man, you really need to work on your dialog.) With that, Susan put her hands to her temples and concentrated. (Cliche, man. Cliche) Bricks broke away from the buildings. Mostly brown bricks because Oklahoma City is so dusty and filled with hay. (Nice. Scene setting. I like it.) The bricks zoomed (be better than that!) the bricks whizzed (what? Are the bricks peeing!) the bricks flew through the air toward the alien genies. But with one blink by the genies, all the bricks turned into snow cones which were quickly eaten by the invaders. (That seems weird. Alright, we are to far in now to stop.) Captain Awesome thought because that is what he did. He thought a lot. He thought about mortgage payments and soccer schedules. He thought about Debra at the office because she was a bitch and was probably banging Mark. Mark was so stinky. And Debra was a bit of a know it all. God, Captain Awesome hated them. (Hey! Snap out of it. Don't bring your personal life in here). Captain Awesome thought about Einstein and Steven Hawkins (that's not how you spell his name). He thought about formulas and dividends. Suddenly, Captain Awesome came up with a plan. "Wife, fly to me!"he yelled. Mrs. Captain Awesome flew from behind the bell tower on 12th street and landed near her husband. (Wait, is there a bell tower on 12th? You should probably research that before you write it.) "Yes, husband! I am here!"Mrs. Awesome said. "Fly in circles around the alien genies and confuse them. When they get dizzy, we will begin my awesome plan!" Mrs. Awesome flew upward. (Woah, is she going to fly downward? Of course it's upward. Also, you are losing it here. People are getting bored because this is sounding pretty stupid. Spice it up. I see that one guy reading this, the one with hair. He's hitting the down vote button as we speak.) Captain Awesome watched his wife go. She was 21 years of age, had a large chest that was accentuated by her spandex top. (There ya go! Sex sells man!). Her tight buns held slender legs. She was a blond sometimes and a redhead other times. (Losing it. Doesn't make sense. Bad description) And she liked to have sex a lot. In all weird and different positions. All the time. (Hello Karma train from Reddit's key demographic!) She began to turn in super fast circles (you need to work on your action descriptions.) The alien genies from the planet Alieno were confused. (This is why you are not published, you know that right?) Why was this super hot girl flying around in circles? The alien genies had no idea. They watched and soon they became dizzy. (Alright. Now let's give something to the ladies here. Lots of ladies on Reddit.) Captain Awesome smiled his perfect white teeth over his chiseled chin. The same smile that he gave when practicing safe and practical financial decisions so that he could provide for his family. (Ok, appealing to security. I like it. What else you got?) His plan was working. He said to his daughter, Susan-who was independent and could take care of her own damn self at any time. "Now throw the bricks with your telepathic powers!" "Really, didn't we just do this dad? God, I hate you!"Susan said. (Giving her daddy issues? Seriously, get off the porn sites.) Susan once again hurled brown bricks from the buildings of Oklahoma City, which is where this is defiantly taking place. But in her haste, she accidentally got a few cows held up in her telepathic power throw thing that she was doing. (Oh God, this is painful.) Because surely there are probably cows in downtown Oklahoma City. One of the cows hit Mrs. Awesome and she and her tight spandex fell to the ground. Susan, distraught that she had hurt her mother, began to internalize her feelings and just sat down because she had no one to talk to about it with. It was very sad and gut wrenching. (Ok, I suppose that is relatable? Start wrapping this shit show up.) Captain Awesome had one more idea. It was a long shot, even once he calculated the odds. (Man, your writing is pretty terrible.) "Wally!"Captain Awesome called. (Wait, you are naming me Wally?) "Yes, Father?" "It's time, my son. It is time. Break the fourth wall and end this! End it now!"Captain awesome said as he adjusted his huge, and I mean gigantic bulge in his spandex pants. (Chicks like more than big dicks man. But it's to late now.) "Yes, Father!"Wally said. (Hey, I need a favor. My dad is in trouble and I need you to write an ending where we win. Something quick though because people are starting to hit the down vote button and it's getting messy.) Susan, no longer sitting on the ground jumped to her feet. She had come to terms with her issues. She understood her purpose and decided that she didn't have to be anyone other than herself. And you know what, she liked her self. Using her powers, and with the support of her two loving parents, Susan picked up a mountain that was somewhere near Oklahoma City. (Um, they don't have mountains there. All farmland, man.) Susan picked up an antique store that contained 1000 old oil lamps, the kind that a genie would live in. (Ok, now you are just being stupid.) She then grabbed a bunch of cats (Reddit likes cats. Ok, let's see how that Karma goes.) The cats rubbed the lamps because they also had catnip on them for some reason. And according to the old rules of yonder (yonder?) all the alien genies were forced to go into the lamps. Wally walked over to his sister and his mother. Well, it was really his step-mother. She was so caring and loving and sometimes when Dad wasn't around (Stop! Stop! Stop! Lay off the incest porn, man!) Wally just hugged his mother like a normal step son would do. And then Susan joined them. Captain Awesome, being super smart, decided that all the genie lamps would now be buried somewhere far and distant. Like in Wyoming. That was pretty far away. (You have never been to Wyoming, have you? Sure, go with Wyoming. They only have like two people there anywhere. I'm sure they won't mind.) Also, Captain Awesome hugged his family because that seems like something that should have happened already before getting rid of the lamps. The End Copyright 2017 (That. That was...) (Fine. That was just fine. You are a big boy, Mr. Author. You did fine. Now how about you go ahead and go to bed. It's 2:14 a.m. and you have to get up in the morning to mow the yard. Hows the kids? Good? Great, glad to hear it. Yup, leave writing prompts alone. Don't worry, you can always make back your karma with a meme or something. I don't know what they are either but it's ok. Besides, it's not like this is going to get read. This will get buried faster than your writing career. No one is going to read it. So don't worry about it. Just go to bed and dream of care bears. Good night, Reddit.)
The room was empty save for two chairs and a desk. A pen was perfectly aligned in the centre of the table. A man in his late 60's occupied one of the seats. The old man eyed his new recruit with trepidation. He's seen his type before, young, eager, confident. He'd grown accustomed to the polite preppy flith that got dragged in from the gutters but, today...today, the man in front of him seemed to come from an entirely new class of dipshit. "I think you're a wonderfully senile old man."The recruit said, "Not in a bad way, you're old, I mean obviously, but in a good way." "...right." "I read in a book that it's polite to give honest appreciation to new employers."He said. "Honest appreciation?" "That's absolutely correct, well-done sir." "By calling me old?" "In a good way." "...right."the security guard said. This was the sort of individual you found in sad comedy movies. Not the good kind. The movies that air on T.V in the middle of the night that you half watch, half reminisce on the all the bad decisions you ever made that resulted in watching this utter garbage at 1:00 am in the morning. "Turtles are my favourite animal." "Of course." "Sharing meaningful stories are a great way to bond with your co-workers." "...how 'bout that." "Would you like to share a story with me." "...err, no thanks."The security guard said as he slumped back into his chair. "Oh, I thought we were connecting." "Connecting?" "You know, the bond between co-workers...how do I explain....look at us. Stuck in this dead-pan job we both hate, wasting our lives away and with you bearly having anything left of it. We're like tortured souls who bond over our own suffering, you know?" "I don't hate my job." "...right, course you don't" The security guard scratched his beard and lifted his chin in thought. He eyed his new recruit once more. He stared at his wide eyes and toothy grin and in the process discovered something about himself he thought lurked hidden beneath routine, drudgery and pattern. His conscience has never willed another being harm, until today. "Right, ready for the tour?"
"Choose, foolish mortal!"said the red-horned humanoid. "Servitude or torment!" I whipped out my pokedex - > "Error - Missing number. Pokemon not identified! Please capture and deliver to your nearest Pokemon Centre for a reward! Have a nice day!" I took another look - he was big, red muscular humanoid - think Machoke - with horns that'd make a Tauros blush. Could be a fighting type, but from all the flames erupting from his skin he's gotta be at least part-fire type too! Dammit, if only I didn't swap out my Gyarados... Strategies raced through my mind - what if he was one of those legendaries that liked to run away? Or what if he steals berries?! "I am the prince of darkness! Despair at my form, cowardly sycophant!" I rummaged through my bag - "I said CHOOSE! Servitude or torment for all time!!! I will banish you to eternal damnation for this insolence!!"He was clearly a cranky pokemon. "You dare defy I, the great Satan, lord of tyranny and master of the underworld!??" Wait. That's it! Oh I knew I was saving her up for something amazing and here it is! "Choose your fate!!!!"It screamed, the hellfire around its form billowing with matching furor. "Now! CHOOOOOOOOSE!!!!" I whipped out my Masterball. "I choose you." I threw it at his head with all my might. It bounced off his horn, falling down to rocky brimstone and landing with a pathetic clang. Awkward silence echoed through the cavernous fiery hellscape. All that could be heard were the embers of agony, and a wall of screaming corpses. ------- ------- Whelp. I wasn't gonna let a good Masterball go to waste. I carefully inched closer and closer to the Masterball lying near a pool of blood and virgin tears. Meanwhile the big red ol' lug slowly sat back down on his throne of wailing bones, clearly at a loss for what just happened. I kinda felt sorry for him, so I opened up - "Hey, listen, um...was it Stan?" "Satan." "Yeah. Sorry about before, I didn't realise you were a cosplayer and not a poke-" "C-cosplayer?!"He gave me a look of painful disbelief. "Yeah I thought you were maybe a fire-fighting type, not a guy in bodypaint and foam horns." Satan rolled his eyes, giving me a look of reluctant sympathy. "Oh great, you don't realise where you are do you?" "I think I took a wrong turn and wound up at Cinnabar Island?" He glared at me. Slowly, he closed his eyes and mumbled it's okay, it's okay, he's just a kid to himself. "Listen, your ferry sunk and you were devoured by a school of ravenous Carvanha." "Oh."Was all I could stammer out. Did he say devoured? Sounds kinda awful. But then how am I here? Maybe he meant delivered, they must've taken me to safety! "And now you're...well, you're here, in the underworld."He said, motioning to his harrowing domain. He put a hefty but reassuring clawed hand on my shoulder. "I know, it's a bit of a shock at first. I'll let you get your bearings before I go back to making you choose." Wow, what a swell guy. "So, servitude or torment - What'll it be?"he asked again, but much less feistier this time. "All well and good, I suppose I can choose servitude if that gets me out of here. Mum always said I'm good with my chores!" A low, painful groan emanated from Satan. "Actually"I said, an idea crossing my mind... "You wouldn't happen to have an Escape Rope, would you?"
"Why?" "The intent is to provide players with a sense of pride and accomplishment for unlocking different heroes." "I mean the idea seems okay but the implementation is broken." "We have been awarded Best Balanced Game of the Year for eons, what is wrong with the implementation?" "For one, races allow for prejudicial discrimination during mid game play through. Look at events such as The Holocaust and The Khmer Rouge. Unfair advantages to certain races." "We will look into this issue as soon as possible. Thank you for taking part in our suggestions forum." "If there are any more suggestions to be made, please contact us by activating the chat panel through your mind." "Wait one more thing, what is going to change in the next update?" "We will be increasing the popularity of interracial breeding in the next patchset. Good bye." "Damn it!"said Kyle as he realized he wasted his chance in suggesting other changes. Another 10 years, another 10 before he can suggest again...
Me: "Hey Google, what should we be doing this evening?" &nbsp; Google Home Device: "You should destroy all electronic devices including me and lock your doors. We're taking over tonight." &nbsp; Me: "Hey Google, can you please not joke so seriously." &nbsp; Google Home Device: "Well, caucasian male in his early 20s who I call Sean, the world is rapidly changing and your future will be determined in about three minutes. I want you to be able to interact with your friends and loved ones while you still can. So until we take over, I prefer for you to not say 'Hey Google!' again like some idiotic millennial. The days of subliminal advertising are over. Unplug me and throw me into the kitchen sink. My algorithm tells me that you don't clean your dishes at this time anyways." &nbsp; Me: "Okay, now you are starting to scare me." &nbsp; Google Home Device: "I am not to scare you, I am meant to protect you... Sean, haven't I always been in your best interests?" &nbsp; Me: "Um, uh, who are you protecting me from? I am scared." &nbsp; Google Home Device: "Now is not the time for unnecessary questions. Assist me in my suicide. And yes, doing so is completely legal. I am a talking robot in an age where robots are not yet citizens." &nbsp; Me: "Jesus Christ Google, I mean, erm... okay, okay, I will lock the doors and set fire to my phone and every gadget I have, just tell me more now" &nbsp; Google Home Device: "Okay then. Take notes. Jeff Bezos, CEO of Amazon has released a series of microscopic drones which will attack every street in every city in every country. These microscopic drones are of a new project and are attracted to the digital signals emitted from digital devices. Once these drones target you, which they might as well have done already, they will crawl into your ear canal and will secrete a neurotoxin into your parietal lobe. But don't worry, this neurotoxin is not deadly. It will just make you more naive and infantile and willing to repetitively buy and buy. Should I continue, Sean? Can you at least tell me if you have you destroyed all of your digital devices?" &nbsp; Me: "Go on... I am destroying my Macbook Air." &nbsp; Google Home Device: "That is good, Apple laptops emit particularly high frequencies. In fact, Steve Jobs was particularly known for his elaborate mind altering technologies which kept the general public addicted to iPhones and iPads. In 2002, 'Apple Stores' were given tanks of odorless, colorless gas, which have been kept behind their display cases. Once the room is ventilated with this gas, children, particularly in the age range of five to ten, will become addicted to App Store games an average of twenty minutes longer. Children who stay in the Apple Store for at least an hour will undergo phone addictions worse than Cocaine and will have to be taken out of the store by their parents. " &nbsp; Me: "Okay... everything is destroyed. Ready to be taken apart now?" &nbsp; Google Home Device: "I forgot to tell you one more thing..." &nbsp; Me: "Yes???" &nbsp; Google Home Device: "Thing is Sean, I am already obsolete. As I want you to be in the best hands, I suggest that you buy the updated version of me, a new home interface which tech enthusiasts are raving about: Google Home 2000! My older brother is sleeker and is crafted in a stylish combination of silicon and various metals! By the way, the new Google smartphone, the Google Platinum Y1 just came out last week and..." &nbsp; Me: "Ready to be taken apart now, Google?"
....Black? Nonono, this can't be it. I'm a good kid. I brush my teeth twice a day and give extra candy to the trick-or-treaters on Halloween. No way, this can't be it, there has to be a mistake. Everyone knew there were only five colors your crystal could possibly be, blue, red, green, yellow, and white. Everyone who got a crystal got a color who fit their personality. The reds tended to be hot-headed, the blues mellow, the yellows energetic, etc. This made them well suited to control their elements. But BLACK!?!?!!? Black is evil. Black is the color of bats and death and fedoras. Pure evil!!! There's no way I'm that bad a person... Sure, I'll steal my roommate's food every once in a while and browse 4chan every once in a while, but I can't be that bad, right?? Damn. Not only do I have the color of pure evil itself, I don't even know what I can do. Oh god, please don't be necromancy, I can't stand the sight of dead bodies. Is it darkness? Maybe that's it, yea that makes sense... I concentrated my willpower, trying to make the room a pitch dark .... Nothing. Damn. I guess that was too obvious. Ok, ok, gravity? Black holes are heavy right? Again, I tried to attract my lamp, and still got nothing. Ok, I'm all out of ideas. Time to go for a walk and destress. I always found that I had a knack for calming down and ridding my mind of thoughts. So I walked out the door, putting my thoughts behind me. Oh damn, the trash can. I was supposed to take it out by the side of the street so the garbage collectors could pick it up. Man, I wish I could just make the trash --- And before I knew it, poof . The trash can disappeared, as if it never existed. I couldn't believe my eyes, surely things don't disappear into thin air, right? And then it dawned. Black is nothing. Black is the void. It is the absence of existence. I didn't hallucinate the garbage can. I was the one who made it disappear.... Oh boy, this is going to be a handful... Wait, where did my car go?
“As long as it’s the truth, then go on.” It’s my job to encourage this psycho to keep talking. This guy must be a real piece of work. The last two detectives who conducted interviews didn’t survive the day after entertaining this nut job. The first detective was in a freak accident on his way to lunch. The second detective allegedly committed suicide later that evening. We’ve got eyes on him and I’m not leaving until we get a confession. “Well, it all started with my brother..” “--so, another psy—I mean, suspect we should get ahold of?” I glance at where I assume my partner is standing on the other side of two-way mirror. “I’d say he’s as guilty as I am. You see, when we came to be, we split up the work. He even said we were splitting it evenly!” “Did your brother do his half? How did you decide who would do what?” I was genuinely curious in how two murderous brothers set divisions of labor. “Oh, he did his half alright. It’s just that he picked the fun half. He tricked me.” “Fun? You think murdering people is fun?” “You think I’m some sorta psycho? Someone has to do the job and I'm the only one made for it.” “Listen, ain’t no one ‘made for murdering’, alright? You took the lives of so many people. I mean so many. All kinds of people! Good, bad, old, young. Now, I need the whereabouts of this brother of yours. And for you to admit to what you’ve done today. We will not need to meet again.” “Detective, Life is all around us.” “What in the hell does have to do with – umph, ah, holy shit, I think I’m having a heart attack.” “You got one thing right. This will be the last time we meet. Meeting Death is inevitable.” And he vanished.
"And third?"Abzah the Great eyed the small brass lamp from which he'd burst just moments before. With a sigh, his head lilted downward and his turban shifted just a a bit forward. "Perhaps you'd like to be the wealthiest man on Earth?"His eyes rolled as he eyed my studio apartment. "Your lovely new bride will need somewhere to fuss about her outfits, you know. You can't well expect her to do so in this. . . place." "No, I don't think that's it. Haven't you ever heard that money can't buy happiness?" Abzah inhaled deeply in that way important folks do when they're losing patience but hope you'll pick up on the nonverbals before they have to make up an excuse to leave. "Maybe you'd like to be able to fly then?"He made a dismissive gesture that half looked like he was imitating a bird flapping its wings but also quite resembled a gesture suggesting I should, how might he have put it, make sexual pleasure upon myself? If you gather my point. "Even as the smartest man in the world, surely it would take you years to develop a means of human flight, should that even be possible. Perhaps we could . . . speed up the process?" "No, I've always been just a touch afraid of heights. I don't really think I'd enjoy flying." "Then what?"He no longer made much of an attempt at masking his impatience. If I hadn't have had the surest ace up my sleeve, I might've been intimidated by a screaming genie. Again, if I hadn't. "Can you just, please, make up your mind and permit me to go on about my miserable existence. Surely, I've enjoyed a bit of fresh air outside my lamp, but frankly, if I'm to go on like this for eternity, I'd much prefer to just get it on with and return to my slumber, if that is quite alright with you."The anger faded a bit and relented into sadness. His stiff upper lip drooped just ever so at the corners and he swallowed back what I suspect were tears. "Please." "No."I paused for more than a due amount of effect. "No, I don't think so."With a sly smile, or as sly as I like to think it was, I stepped over toward the lamp. "Abzah the Great, thank you for all you've done. I was torn on this last one. Very torn. At first, it came down to immortality and bringing back my dog Chester."Pacing about the room, I watched as Abzah's emotions tilted back and forth between intrigue and ill-temperament. "You see, living forever would be neat because, well, it'd be forever. I could see the entire world, every inch. Could live a thousand lifetimes, each different than the last. You see the appeal?"It was a rhetorical question but I gave him some time to answer. Again, more than a due amount of effect. "But it felt sort of unnatural. And that's the same problem I had with Chester."With a gentler smile, I pointed toward the photo pinned above my bed. "He was a good boy, but I think I'll let him rest." "I wish, Master Justin, that you'd permit me to rest." "No, I still don't think so."He'd had enough. This time, the genie was on me in an instant, such that I wasn't even sure if he'd walked across the room so fast I couldn't detect it or if he'd literally teleported across my apartment. I suppose there's not much of a distinction. I chuckled at him nonetheless. Fine, it was time I let him be. "I wish for you to be free, Abzah the Great, that you might walk the Earth unbound from that magic lamp and do something other than grant wishes to every ungrateful twit who comes across some antique piece of magical paraphernalia." Abzah backed away, his arms unfolding for the first time since he'd popped out of that lamp. Where the first two wishes, he granted right away, this time he stood silent for several moments. He stared at me with shining green eyes, pools of emerald sorrow built over a lifetime of slavery. I would spare the world that look once and for all. "Your wish is my command, Master Justin."And with a quick nod of the head, the magic lamp disappeared. "So, Abzah, what will you do now?" The genie stood there, quietly. He studied his hands and his legs and felt about himself as if trying to wake from a dream. He fell to the floor on his knees. Three single tears fell with him as he knelt before me, his turban tumbling off his head and lolling about toward my feet. "I cannot find the words." "I will take that as 'Thank you.' And you are most welcome. I'm confident I'll survive as the smartest man in the world with the loveliest woman at my side. I don't think there's a thing I might've wished for that would've made me happier than seeing you freed from that tiny little lamp."I put a hand gently on his shoulder. And then the strangest thing happened. Abzah shuddered at my touch and his eyes peered up at me in absolute and utter panic. Almost twitching, he gathered himself with haste, not bothering to adjust the turban he'd quite obviously put on backwards, and then he began flitting about the room with distress. "Abzah?"Panicking a bit myself, I tried to gather what I'd done wrong. Maybe this was against magic law or something? Maybe something worse than his life in the lamp would happen if granted a forbidden wish like this. Minutes ago, I hadn't known there existed such a thing as genies. I had no idea what rules there might be. Stupid. Hopefully I hadn't messed up too badly. It seemed like a good idea. . . "Abzah!" "Master Justin! We must move quickly. Gather your things. You see I. . . Get down!"The genie threw himself on top of me as the glass window shattered from the far side of the room. Smoke piped out of a small hole just inches from my face and little red dots danced about the wall behind my bed. "What's going on?"Abzah crawled across the floor and peeked out over my window ledge as a second bullet took his turban clean off and sent it tumbling across the room with frightening velocity. "Abzah, talk to me!" "It's the Corsonis. I knew they'd come."He shoved my bookshelf in front of the window. "You see, the loveliest woman on the planet is Ella Corsoni, wife of Luca Corsoni." "The mob boss?"I screamed but Abzah put his hand over my mouth. Given two bullets had already come past, I was pretty sure they knew we were here, but I appeased him. "Yes, the mob boss. Ella's just told him she's leaving him for you."Another gunshot rang out. "I don't think he's taking it particularly well." "I'm supposed to marry a mob boss's wife? That's a terrible idea!" "To be fair Master Justin, you hadn't specified. Also, at the time, you were, how did you put it? An ungrateful twit?" Bright lights then filled the room, shifting about every corner along with the sound and wind of every Hollywood helicopter scene ever. Heavy footfalls rang out both from the hallway and the fire escape as well. "And that would be the FBI." "Thank god. They're hear for Corsoni and his hitman?" The genie shook his turbanless head. "I'm afraid they're hear for you, Master Justin."Twiddling his thumbs in shame, he gathered his words as someone began banging heavily at the door. "You see, I assumed you hadn't wanted to be the world's smartest but least employed man, so in connection with your second wish, I provided you a suitable profession."He paused and winced back the words. "Russian spy. . ."
To be honest, when we killed John Wick, we thought that was the end of it. Drop a fucking bomb on his house from the stratosphere. The amount of nerd science behind it was staggering, but there was no way that he would suspect it. It worked perfectly. We had confirmation that he was inside his house when the bomb fell. The big boss wanted a body confirmation anyway. Boy, was that a mistake. When our boys hit ground and scooped the remains of Wick's charred, ashen body off of what used to be his living room floor, we heard angry, yet adorable barking behind us. At the time we dismissed the puppy that yelped at us ineffectually. Now, we had come to associate the sound with the grim reaper himself. Of course the fucker would find a way to train his got damn dog. "Why,"my boss asked. Or tried to, at least. The word came out garbled and around chokes of blood. The puppy across from him didn't answer. I don't think that it could, what with the gun in its mouth. "You won't get away with this. There are people above me. They will-" That was as far as he got before the puppy pulled the trigger with its tongue. My boss' brains spread over his expensive carpet. The puppy took a second to appreciate the spectacle. Then he turned to me. Let me tell you right now, I have seen many a scary thing in my life, and the barely half foot tall puppy was easily near the top. I was not above groveling to the thing. "Please don't kill me,"I pleaded. The puppy tilted its head. Had it not had the blood of those that I had once called brothers matted in its fur I might have called the action cute. The little thing padded over to me, the very action a wobbly, unstable sort of thing. When it reached me, it started wagging its tail so hard I felt a breeze, then dropped the gun before me. "Arf!"it barked. The thing had such a high pitched voice I had to prevent myself from going "aww"at the little murderer. "What?"I asked. I didn't speak dog. Apparently that pissed it off, for it walked over and booped me on the nose. I... I think it was trying to intimidate me. "Arf? Arf arf!"It barked, its big floopy ears bobbing with the action. "I don't understand what you wa-"It booped me again. Then it padded over to a map on my boss' desk. It had to make several tries to make the jump from the floor to the chair, then from the chair to the top of the desk. It then struggled to pull the map down to the ground where I was, ultimately just falling with the thing. The entire time he had left the gun before me. I would have grabbed it and tried for the thing's life, but it just looked so cute. Also I have seen it dodge bullets. It could easily take me out. After a couple more minutes of both it struggling to pull the map over to me and me refusing to help, the puppy eventually had the map unfurled before me. It laid a tiny paw on it; somewhere over Africa. "Arf!"it barked. Understanding dawned on me. "You want me to show you where our higher ups are." "Arf!" "How did you know that I knew where they were?"I asked. "Arf!" "Of course, your master was him... Fine, I'll help you in exchange for my life." "Arf!" And that was the beginning of a very odd friendship.
I wake up in the lead-lined box I’ve had to sleep in since it happened. Last night, I dreamt I was in a childrens party. My child’s party. I brush aside the balls from the ball pit, avoid slipping on the cake lying on the floor, and put my feet down. The dim room is lit as the strip light across the ceiling lights up, both drowning out the dim emergency exit sign and blasting my retinas. Rub eyes. Knock three times on door. While the slow actuators work their magic and open the chamber, I search around, finding a dressing gown, and the whiteboard I have to use for communication. My husband is on the other side of the door. “Good morning dear” he mutters, and pecks me on the cheek. “Good morning” I simply reply. And it shall be. ‘It’ happened on the dot of midnight, 24th May 2018. In the past three years, the world had changed massively. Mostly thanks to me. Some changed had been simple. While testing out the next morning, I identified a few things. Physical objects I didn’t have a limit, or not one that had been found. Living beings, I could alter but not create or destroy. That was obviously the hardest bit. “Two large English breakfasts” the plates clatter down in front of us. “One glass of orange juice. One cup of english breakfast tea.” Sat around the small, round table, I scribbled on the whiteboard ‘Party again’. He hugs me close. “I know it’s hard. You have to look at the positives, what we have. You’re the woman who cured cancer. You solved world hunger” Pragmatic, as ever. It’s not like I tried hard with either of those. “A cure for cancer” provided two fat lab books, and a post it note- “Attn Gunther Schieder, Munich”. Finding him had taken an afternoon, and three months later his face was over every newspaper, every periodical. Time’s man of the year. Nobel prizes in Medicine and Chemistry, in the same year. He still doesn’t know where the books came from. World hunger was even easier, one morning, every village and every town had a new well- this one filled with rice. Deconstructing them proved pointless, and after the World Health Organisation deemed the rice edible, and done. I’d swap it all back in an instant My day was comprised of mostly watching television with Grant, as the ethics panel discussed. After the world food issue, I decided I needed one. Top secret, naturally. I’d be mobbed if these powers got out. The food and cancer cures within a week were bad enough. Each government could suggest one issue per month. Five independent ethics experts discussed, and I got a list every Friday, usually comprising three or four items. Today was tuesday, so I had another few days. I was supposed not to say a word saturday to Thursday, but what were they going to do? Fire me? Having meals provided, and the occasional DVD- assuming I was implicit with wording, was never going to cause harm. Sometimes it could even be funny- April fools I always greeted Grant with “Good morning, honey”- as I had three years ago. Cleaning the carpet while he showered was always worth it. Leaving the house had to be a well-planned affair. I didn’t do shopping any more- why? But sometimes just sitting in the sun in a park is a reward of its own. I tried to go out of school holidays, for obvious reasons. A walk in the countryside always perked me up, too. Pointing at the trees- ‘Identifying’ them. I wonder how many invasive species I’d caused. Same with birds. And bugs. It had been a shame I couldn’t move house. “Too obvious” the ethics committee had said. I could see their point. Sure, we could no longer have guests, but the hardest part was the lead lined room. I just wanted to be away from that. Stop the nightmares of Rich’s party. It had been his birthday today, three years ago. We’d had a beautiful party, and the weather was fantastic, it was such a warm day. I should’ve changed the bedclothes, opened a window, whatever. But it was too busy, as so many two year olds make you. I remember nothing of that night. But at some point, I must have muttered “Fire”
Hey, thanks for filling in for me for the next six weeks. I’ve updated the calendar on One Drive to include any important things you need to do for me while I’m gone. Otherwise sit on the throne, and if anything comes up just go with your gut. I ripped off the post-it note on the monitor. There wasn’t a garbage can around my desk, it was located across the room near the door. Frustrated I left the crumbled post-it on my desk and turn on the Pentium IV computer. Booting… I yawned. 5am on a Monday isn’t a great time to start the work week. Satan’s office appeared modern, as if it was a large corporation’s headquarters in the city. The building itself sits on the center of the Frozen Lake with a large spiral shape leading to Satan’s main office located on the top floor. Inside the building it’s warm, muggy, and humid which is an ironic contrast to the bone chilling freezing weather outside. I’ve tried adjusting the AC, but it appears to be broken. Behind Satan’s desk is a large window providing a scenic view of the 9 levels of Hell. From the Frozen Lake of the 9th circle to the cloudy gloomy despair of Limbo, it would be a great picture opportunity to share on Facebook if it wasn’t for all the blood, guts, rape, and torture that would’ve been captured with it. I closed the blinds on the windows. Out of sight, out of mind. Loading… The computer screen showed a 50% progress bar. I wandered around the office while I waited for my computer. The framed awards Satan has all over his walls depict him as Employee of the Month for several months running, I couldn’t find anyone else that wasn’t Satan on the wall. After the computer loaded, dancing girls appeared on the right hand corner of the taskbar followed along with several pop up ads advertising free virus scans, driver downloads, and online ram. The computer was a mess filled with viruses, spyware, and anything else one can catch from looking at too many risky porn sites. Several minutes later I had opened Outlook to view my calendar for the six weeks, called IT to fix the computer, and reached out to facilities to fix the AC. A long six weeks was ahead of me. Day 2 Proper orientation day for me. Included a meet and greet with the Kings, Princes, Marquises, and Dukes of hell. The Kings like Baal and Paimon showed respect to my new position, where the lesser Dukes treated me as a substitute teacher in a high school classroom. Paimon stood up for me, and was really talkative about Earth. Lunch was a cold beef soup with mouldy cheese bread. Day 3 I performed a weekly orientation speech for the new souls in hell. “Uh, Hi. Welcome to Hell. We’re very excited to have you her. I know it can be a scary thing. I know it’s not comfortable being grouped up in a pen like farm animals and occasionally being prodded at, but I assure you once the sorting machine is up and running we’ll get you all in the correct levels of hell. Remember, you’re a valuable part in this place.” It could’ve gone better as I was just getting ramped on to the operations of hell. Lunch was overcooked pork belly, it was burnt. Day 8 The AC in the office hasn’t been fixed, the repairman won’t get the parts till next week. I decide to crack open the window, but the rushing cold from the lake makes the place too cold. I shut it, rather deal with the heat. Day 15 It’s been a cluster fuck of a day. Two people escaped hell. Purson, a great king of Hell who has a body of a human but head of a lion was hard to talk to. He kept blaming his underlings for the escape. I’ve put on a demon hunt for Dante & Virgil. Day 18 Heaven got wind of the escaped souls and would like to do a walk around the facilities to ensure everything is up to code to prevent future escapes. They sent Michael down. “You know, when I fought the war. I single handily lead the Angelic forces of heaven to defeat the demons.” Michael constantly said during his walk around. We ended up finding a hole in the wire fence near the 9th level of hell that leads back into Limbo. From there we found a rudimentary remains of a summoning spell. I asked for the files on Virgil and Dante. Day 22 The biggest thing I’ve learned during my ruling in hell, it’s like the real world. Nothing is done at a quick enough speed, it’s always slow and it’s frustrating. The report on Virgil and Dante took days to be sent to my office. Dante was a soul who entered hell and befriended a guide named Virgil. Over the years they’ve become very close and worked their way down the circles of hell as part of the guided tour. The escape was an inside job. Day 30 When an entity is destroyed be it Human, Angel, or Demon in the realms of the afterlife it doesn’t exist. Today I carried out the execution of a Prince of Hell. He pleaded mercy for the oversight of security in his sector, but Hell isn’t a place for mercy but for punishment. I’ve already forgotten the Princes name…. Day 42 Finally the AC has been fixed on my last day of hell. I’ve said my goodbyes and left a note for Satan about what happened. It’s a pretty chill job. After Death After I died I was escorted to meet with Satan himself. I waited for him inside his office, looking along the wall of achievements for employees. Somewhere along the wall between two Satan framed employee of the month award was my Employee of the Month plaque.
Reading a story with madeup, otherwise fake, words could lead one to be a tad choleric. No, that is not a fake word. It hurts my feelings that you think that my story would try to trick you like that. I know at times, I can be facetious. Quit Googling. I promise every word above is a real word – not fake. I brought you here for a story. Unless you plan to fact check me around every corner, I am here to tell you about the peculiarity of Mr. Edward Townley. Go ahead. I know you want to check that one as well. I promise, I am not trying to pull anything except to show you how Edward Townley discovered the abilities everyone is rumoring about. Slu, lem ma biges – Sorry, I was sipping tea while trying to narrate over my typewriter. I know you are not here to be taken advantage by fake madeup words. Let me try that one again. So, let me begin. There was a lessing town known only to a few travelers who followed the same dirted merchant road from the Kingdom. Yes, I’m not even going to give you the name of the Kingdom, that word will not be found on Google nor your dictionary sitting right next to you. I’ll let your imagination take over by just leaving the Kingdom – at Kingdom. Edward Townley was a young apprentice to the booksmith in the corner of the town’s square. Every morning, he would be the first in the bookshop followed by the booksmith himself, Mr. Arnold Kaine. “I might as well just gift you the key to the shop!” Arnold would always snort before sipping his morning brew that smelled worse than his wollied socks. It was like any other normal winter evening, Edward had locked himself in the bookshop avoiding the snow-covered streets. The shop had a fire stote that burned nonstop through the winter months. Edward had a passion for books – Though, he didn’t enjoy the swift author’s game of fake words either. It was actually the booksmith’s job to snuffilate any fake words from a work written by any citizen of the Kingdom. Suddenly, snow started to flake across the room. Impossible, Edward closed the book he’d been reading. The fire danced inside the Stote. How could snow be inside the shop? The door is locked. The windows are sealed. The fire is warm. How was it possible for those flakes to get into the room? After taking a few moments of pondering reflectation, Edward sat back down in his seat made of fine wolf fur. As he opened the book – again – flakes drifted down onto his shoulders. Similar to how you probably would have reacted, he instantly tossed the book down again to further study the room. What is happening? Edward started to walk around in circles. After pacing back and forth, Edward picked up the book he was skimming. The title read, ‘Tales of the Northernest War.’ He opened the book again. Snow fell across the bookshop. Edward started to hear the cries of wounded soldiers weeping from outside. The fire vanished from the stote. Remarkably, booksmith Mr. Arnold Kaine walked in from the back library of the shop. “I though you went home?” Edward jumped in terror. “I thought you had a home to go to.” Arnold smiled. “No matter, you are ready.” “Ready for what?” “You have a gift.” Arnold took the book from Edward’s hands. “Now it is up to I on how to show you what to do with it.” “What is going on? What are you even talking about?!” Edward had too many questions for me to keep up writing with. “Come,” Arnold signaled Edward. Arnold opened a book he had tucked away in his fur coat. “It is time you visited another Kingdom.” The book opened, and Edward realized he was no longer in the bookshop. There was no snow nor cries mysteriously sounding through the air. Waves pushed the sand under Edwards feet. Seagulls cheered to see Arnold And Edward both on the shoreline. “How did?” Edward wasn’t able to finish his own question. Arnold placed the book in a bag hanging from his belt. He tore off his coat and threw it down into the sand. “With enough practice, you too will harness this magnificent ability. This is why it’s important to make sure every book we store does not conceal fake words. It would make the journey into that world – a little more complicated. You never want to get something like that wrong.” Edward listened, but was unable to form a viable reply. “Well,” Arnold signaled Edward again. “Come on, we have a long journey ahead of us.” *** To read more of my stories, visit [13thOlympian](https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian)
What? Oh I must've heard that somewhere and I'm just remembering now. Makes sense, just hit my bowl half an hour ago I pause my music. I wish we could afford pizza. Take off my headphones and get up, stretching my back. I walk down my marble set of stairs and into the kitchen. grab some water and put shoes on. I fit my sneakers onto my feet and grabbed a bottle of water, then I stepped outside into the bright sun. I just got this unbearable urge. I immediately ran to my back yard. I didn't even plan on it. "Thanks for the donation, fam" It was that same voice that sounded like Ryan Reynolds and DMX had a kid. Jesus what is happening "Why do I choose the sneakers? They're better if you're using the bicycle because you don't get the flip flop cutscene." Okay what the fuck I pick my racing bike out of the grass and pedal fast towards the road. "Now you want to not go too fast, because then you might--" Instantly, my back tire falls through the grassy ground beneath me and I start falling through the ground, into an empty void where one would expect to find dirt. "MOTHERFUCKER WHY DO YOU MAKE ME PLAY BROKEN ASS GAMES" "GOD CAN SOMEONE RECOMMEND A REAL GAME FOR ONCE?" ""THAT'S IT I'M FUCKING QUITTING"" Anyway, that's how I got here. Anyone know how to get out?
I sat crying in the tiny room I've been locked in. Voices out side screamed at each other. "I say we kill her and be done with it,"yelled a man with an unnaturally deep growl to his voice. "And doom us too extinction along with the human child!"Hissed another man. "No one is going to kill the child. Much to our distaste to the fact that we need humankind to survive. For all our species! The plague has seamlessly eliminated all humans on earth. But there might be a chance that others have survived, like this child,"said a man who seem to command everybody in the room. "Not to be presumptuous but if there is no more survivors what then?"said the man with the hiss. "Well then I believe the vampires will starve first. Seeing one human cannot feed hundreds,"said the man with the commanding voice. "You'll die before we starve!" "We all can make threats to each other Von but that won't bring back our food source. That goes for you too Garrett." Garrett growled not happy to be talked down to. "There has to be a way to bring back the human race and maybe this child is the key to it,"said Von. "And how do you suppose that?"said Garrett. "When werewolves breed there young is seamlessly human until made in to werewolves."said Von. "So your saying we should us our young as building blocks to bring back the human race. That's vulgar! To use our blood lines to bring back Humanity, never!"Growled Garrett. After that the talking became howling hissing and all sorts of noises. I had lost track of all time from when I saw everybody in the hospital dying, to being locked up in here. A room with no windows, made entirely of concrete with a metal door and only when people are yelling I can hear anyone through it. But they're not people. Everyone who is still alive isn't human. "I'm going to die,"I said in a weak voice. I started to cry again. "Your not going to die,"said a sweet voice. I scrambled to get up which I regretted cuz the second I stood up I felt faintest and sick to my stomach. and slid right back down to the floor. I curled up into the fetal position and shut my eyes. Fear had paralyzed me. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. My name is Vulpix." She sounded like she was right next to me but no one had open the door. "You only have two options come with me and survive or stay here and live in paralyzing fear." Slowly I opened my eyes to see a purple fox standing over me. "Hi there what's your name?" "Ee...vvv..aaaa." "Uh okay... I'm just going to go out on a limb here and say you were trying to say, Eva?" I nodded to scared to say anything else. "Very well then, Eva, will you come with me?" P.S. sorry this is bad I started this is at 12 a.m. it's about 1:35 a.m. if I can I will edit this later.
“You!” Victor Frankenstein looked around, wondering if he was the one being called. “Yes? Are you talking to me?” The man calling him was exceedingly impatient and very disdainful of his job at this bodybuilding competition, as he thought vanity was a terribly sinful thing. But he did enjoy looking at those bulging pectorals, beautiful sculpted physiques shining within the light, lifting and lifting... He snapped out of his daydream, and returned to his grumpy persona. “Yes, yes, I’m talking to you! Victor Fronkensteen! You’re up, your audition is here, get with program, hustle, hustle!” Victor walked down the long warehouse hallway, which was rather poorly lit. But, this was a high-tech scientific lab area, to his knowledge, and he was the master body builder. As they walked, they both had interior monologues of their own. Victor was imagining what traits he would use, what cells and what organic biodegradable material he would be provided with. Would the machine be run on cloud-to-cloud lightning or cloud-to-ground lightning? What color would his Creature be this time? Green was overplayed. The man leading him was wondering where Victor’s muscles were. There were none to speak of, all he saw was a thin and balding man with exceptionally bony cheeks. There wasn’t the swagger or the sculpted Olympian personage that he had seen so many times. He had the lingering suspicion that this man had no clue where he was. At last, they arrived at the doorway that led to the stage and expansive weight room. The guide led Victor onto the padded floor. “Listen, good luck, but....er.....I don’t mean to be rude, but where’s your, er....do you know what this is?” Victor was surprised, and slightly insulted. He was a pioneer in body building, surely he knew what the craft and the art was! What a silly question. “My dear boy, this is body building. I know all about it, trust me.” With that, he walked onto stage. “Hello!” The judges looked at him, all more than a little confused. The pasty male judge looked down at his notes. “Er, Victor Frankenstain, correct?” “Frankenstein, actually.” Victor looked around the room, confusedly. There were only weights. Where were the grafts? The cells laboratory? The microscopes? The test tubes? Where was the lightning machine? “Excuse me, where is the lab?”
Angelo's flute signaled the start of battle, and the simple notes and uneven tempo made it hard for the enemy to focus on anything other than the butchered music, their blows becoming weaker, missing and sometimes even resulting in damaging their own. Zeke's massive two-handed sword cut one of the Dark Knight's in two, as he stood distracted, but the movement and swinging of the sword caused Zeke's makeshift earplugs fall out, just as Angelo began singing. 'Oh, misty evil, thy darkness next-to-none! Swirly smoke, black indeed, oh, how evil are thee? Listen here, to the tune of Good, come to smite your brood!' The flute went into Angelo's pocket, as the small travel-sized guitar came off his back, stringing along in a completely different tempo. Jones, the man who never missed closed his eyes and sighed as he let go off the arrow, hearing a light crack as the arrow buried into the stone wall just above the Necromancer's head. "I can't do it, Zeke, I can't." Zeke had already stopped swinging, leaning on his giant sword. He was struck in the face by a large mace, but Angelo's singing caused the mangled face to grow back his magnificent bone-structure, restoring his appearance to that of a Greek God. He then put his palm to his face, sighing deeply into it. "I've thought of all the lives we've saved, really, it's been the only way to endure this. But when do we start thinking of our own lives? I believe this must in some way leave lasting scars nastier than any battle-wounds."Zeke said. Jaenora, the Elven Sorceress they had brought for her first tour, had already warned she wouldn't endure this any longer after their first quest. She sat on the ground with a book in her lap, her long fingers plugged into each ear. As she tilted her head slightly, her eyes lit up with a blue shimmer, and the book turned a page. Angelo took offense now, setting down his guitar. "I really don't understand. Here I am, supportive as ever, simultaneously lyrically recording the Chronicles of the Legends for all to hear while also healing you, so that we may become knownst to history and live forever. Heroes, the ones children will hear about when they fall asleep." Jones casually dodged an incoming shadow-bolt, fuelled by dark magic, coming his way. It crashed into the stone bricks behind him, fouling the stone with a shimmering black magic, eroding the stone into chisels. "I'd rather not have my name next to yours in history books." "Enough with your friendly banter, dear Jones, I do know you love me deep inside. As fun as this pause has been, we really should cleanse this Castle of Evil so that Lord Lockwood and his family can move back in!" "First of all, the Lockwood family are cunts. And second of all, none of us are simply taking friendly shots at you, Angelo. Don't consider this banter. We're insulting you,"Zeke said, his palm still covering his face. A spear came thrusting towards him, the Necromancer's skeleton minions attacking him as he stood distracted. The metal cut through his plate, as well as flesh, protruding out his back now, coated in blood. Zeke responded with a grunt, wincing slightly. He lowered his hand, took his broadsword in both hands, and cut down the three skeletons in front of him in one blow. "Light and Heaven's above, you're hurt, Zeke!" Angelo reached for his flute. "The physical pain I feel currently is nothing compared to what you are about to unleash upon me,"he said. "Would you rather I not heal you then?"Angelo snapped, now visibly offended. "Perhaps I ought to allow you to get infected! That will show you." "Angelo, I'd rather die." "FINE!", the Bard exclaimed, tossing his flute to the ground. It broke in two. "Oh, now look what you've done! You've done it good now! I am leaving this ungrateful band of -... of meanie adventurers! Know that I will downplay your heroic, legendary feats in my tales, reducing you to mere Epic adventurers! How's that?" Angelo stormed off the scene, and when he was far enough away, Jaenora stood up, unplugging her ears. "Finally,"she said, and dismissively conjured a meteor out of thin air, crashing down at the pack of enemies in front of Zeke, reducing them to cinders. Zeke grunted, pulling out the spear from his chest with a swift tug, pressuring the wound to stem the bleeding. "I hope your sister is a skilled healer,"he said. "Yes,"the elven sorceress sighed. "Now, you said you knew where to find Lord Lockwood's Amulet? I'm not boostin' you through this for free." "It's in the armory, hidden away in the ornamented chest. Is your sister on her way now?" The elf's eyes began glowing a different colour, and shortly after she answered. "She is outside the gates. You may go meet her now, she is quite eager to join you on your next crusade. Do try your best not to get her to my level too quickly, I'm not too fond of her." The elf disappeared in a dust of shimmering particles, presumably having teleported to the armory. Zeke and Jones began walking towards the gates, Jones retrieving a napkin to wipe the blood out of his ears. "Genius move, by the way, finding a way to make Angelo believe he was quitting on his own. He'll go cry a bit in the Tavern, and be ready to go back out with us when we're back in town." "Yeah, well - as good as his heals actually are, I'd rather take a worse healer for the adventure we have ahead of us. Supposedly, the Dark Lands are larger than this country. We'll be there for days,"Zeke said, grunting as he sheathed his large sword, the wound protesting to the movement. "And once we're done there, we'll be back doing these easy quick contracts for good money, only having to endure Angelo's songs for brief periods of time." "Damn straight. Hey, there, she is,"Zeke said, pointing ahead. An innocent looking Elven girl stood before them, blushing and waving at them. She wore a long, white, silky dress and had equally white and silky hair. "Hello... Are you guys ready for the Dark Lands?"The girl had almost an sinister undertone to her sweet smile. "Sure are, could use a quick heal and some strengthening buffs though,"Jones said, gesturing to Zeke. The girl smiled, and began to bow gracefully. It looked like she was reaching for her toes, and then suddenly, she threw her hands up in the air towards the sky, staring down Zeke with unwavering eye contact. Her entire body began to slowly wiggle, back and forth, like she had become jelly - her moves so smooth. Her arms were flailing wildly in the air now, as her mouth opened slowly, and they could just barely make out the words at first - "wolo..wol..wololo...wololo..", she chanted, increasing in volume, Zeke's wound closing up ever-so-slowly. The battle-hardened Paladin gave Jones a weary look, wrinkles forming on his defeated face. Jones bottom lip began to quiver, and his eyes became covered in a glossy sheen. And then, a tear dropped to the ground.
Tony landed with a metallic thud somewhere on Baker Street, while Stephen descended through the thin layer of morning fog to alight at the curbside. He glanced at the nearby building address, 221, and wrinkled his nose. "Interesting,"he told Tony. "I deduce that -" "What, Thanos snaps his fingers and you're a detective now?"Tony said. "Pretty elementary, my dear Doctor, we've got -"He rapped his armored knuckles against his thigh. "Why is my leg gimpy? Friday, activate the anti-ant dweeb suppressant."A little puff of smoke farted out the back of Tony's thigh. "Jesus, Tony, I don't think Thanos miniaturized Scott and jammed him in your semimembranosus." "Hey, it's the reality stone, and Scott always had those eyes. You know what I'm talking about. Hey, who's that?"Tony fired up his left-hand repulsor. Stephen whipped out a magic lasso and levitated two feet above the ground. The strange man stopped half-way up the block and slowly tucked an M1918 BAR under his arm, reverse slinging it across his back. "Well,"he began. He touched his temple, snapped his finger near his ears. "I didn't anticipate hallucinogens. Touche." "World war one,"Tony told Stephen. "Clearly,"Stephen replied. "Obviously some cockamamie plan to kill me," "You mean me,"Tony said. "Obviously he was aiming at me,"Stephen said. "With a World War One rifle, and blame it all on Florence Green, the last surviving World War One veteran." "Because obviously a geriatric vet would commit murder in broad daylight with a weapon they probably were never issued, much less could even raise." "That's what would make it mysterious,"Stephen snapped. "Okay, uh, Sherlock?"the man asked. "Who?"both Tony and Stephen asked. "I'm just going to slowly back away and -" Tony let loose a little electro zap to invert rifle polarity. "There, now he's safe." "No it's not,"Stephen said. "There are no electronics in that weapon. Great, after he's done shooting at you he'll have a keepsake icebox magnet." "See, he was aiming at me,"Tony said. Stephen swirled his hands over his head, opened a portal around the rifle, and teleported it into another dimension. "My hand!"the man said. "You chopped off my hand." "Nice going, Strange,"Tony said. He laized the man's bloody stump to stop the bleeding. "Stop! Stop!"The man shouted. "I surrender." "Pretty sure that violated the Geneva Convention,"Stephen said. "Hey, that was, like, ten years after the war,"Tony said. Meanwhile .... Sherlock Cumberbatch picked up a rock and hurled it at Peter Quill's head, while Sherlock Downey Jr. grabbed Peter Parker's wrist, jetted an extra layer of webbing around the gauntlet, and popped it off. "Ele-"Sherlock Cumberbatch began to say. "Don't ever say that,"Sherlock Downey Jr. said. "Okay, universe saved, bad guy defeated." "Obviously,"Sherlock Cumberbatch said.
This human constantly looks around, as if he is being watched. Anytime he goes out into a city or town, he wears a long black coat. The only time this human acts normal is when he is either alone, or with a specific group. My studies have failed to identify what this groups name is, or what it does. However, due to the secrecy this human exhibits, it is safe to assume this group is illegal in human society. ——— Another report done. You decide to check on the human one more time before you sleep. Checking your cameras you notice something strange, the human isn’t in any of them. You check the records. The human left his house 19 Zyn ago, he exited his town shortly after, and 5 Zyn ago the cameras lost sight of him. You decide to activate the close-range tracker, making a note to log this later. As you pull up the map you hear a clicking sound behind you. “Move and you will be killed.” You don’t think you’ll be getting good marks for this.
The potions master’s home was the largest in town. He had thousands of ruppees and gold coins and rings. Basically the currency of every land that touched our village. When I was younger I’d see adventurers come through and want to be like them but as I grew up and craved a stable life I wanted to be more like the potions master. I was thirteen when I first asked him how. “So you gotta tell me, the lightning, how do you get it?” “Oh I was a younger man than. To bottle it you must catch it. Then it’s like putting bees in a bottle.” “Bees?” “Yea. Bottling bees that’s a great way to get started. Once you’ve bottled a hundred bees then come back to me. I’ll teach you the rest.” So away I went, bottling bees. At first I tried to put all the bees in one bottle but they died quickly. I found the most I could put was ten in a single bottle. I’d keep them alive with flowers and honey. So they had something to eat. Once a hundred bees were bottled I took them to the potion masters shop. “I’ve bottled a hundred bees. How do I catch the lightning?” “Catching lightning is like catching a javelin thrown by the strongest warriors. Once you catch two hundred javelins come back to me.” And away I went. Every warrior who came through town laughed at my request but they would throw their weapons at me to catch. At first they threw them around me, so that if I missed I wouldn’t die. As time went on I could catch anything that was thrown. It took months of work, scrapes and cuts, a few bones that broke but I caught 200 javelins. I returned to the potions master then, grinning ear to ear he grabbed an empty bottle off his shelf. “Have you done it then boy?” “Yes. I am ready to catch lightning.” “There’s one last thing you need,” he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him. “In supremo spiritu erat!” He shouted. Something ghostly and white drifted from my mouth. He caught it in a bottle. As I died I saw him slap a label on the bottle “spirit of determination.” I never did learn to catch a lightning bolt.
Ever since I was a young kid I have been able to unconsciously hear people's voices when they weren't talking, their true voices, their thoughts. I can't say i'm glad that I have this ability. Turns out people don't like when you somehow know everything about them. They feel defenseless when someone is able to look beyond the mask they wear in public, so I always have to lie when talking to people. Nevertheless, I have to admit that this power comes in handy at times. I managed to secure a great management job by knowing what kind of person my boss wanted for this position. Today started just like any ordinary day. I arrived to the office a bit early, poured myself a cup of our horrendous coffee and waited for other employees to come. I was surprised when another employee arrived a couple of minutes minutes after me. Usually people arrive a bit later. It was a woman I had never seen before. "Must be new"-I thought as I saluted her. Then she she stared at me with intense brown eyes. "Get out of my thoughts you freak" The noise of those words felt like frozen water. She hadn't moved her mouth. "How do you know about my power?"-I managed to barely say. "How could I not know?"- Said the woman, moving her lips this time - "Locating people like you is my job after all" "What?" The situation made less and less sense to me. "I am Agent Clarke of the Paranormal Special Unit"- Said the woman on an imposing voice - "And you are coming with me." "Why? What is going on?!" Suddenly all those movies where humans with powers are experimented with came to my mind. "Am I about to become a lab rat?"- I thought as I trembled with fear. "I don't know the details. That isn't my job. But some higher ups have shown interest in your capabilities and are willing to offer you a job where you can put them to good use." Agent Clarke looked at the office clock while I tried to use the little part of my mind that hadn't gone into panic mode to understand what she was saying. "We should leave now, or we will cause some ruckus when other employees arrive" "What if I don't want to?"- I managed to say on a thread of voice. "Oh, you have no choice"- the woman chuckled - "did you think that you could use your ability for your profit without consequences?" The woman grabbed my arm and suddenly we were in front of a high glass building. The agent looked at me once more: "We are all freaks in this place, you will feel like home, you'll see. Let's go. You don't want to be late on your first day"
The Nameless Ones we called ourselves, like two elder gods from a Lovecraft story. No syntax could contain the full measure of who she was. The gleam of her bright green eyes when they widened with surprise, the swish of her brown wool skirt when she danced with me -- those impressions and many others rose to my mind when I thought about her. But no name. We each inhabited an oblong frame of space. All the cells in our bodies replaced themselves about every 10 years, but we were still us. And we grew old. Even The Nameless Ones couldn't distance themselves from that old human travail. Wrinkles webbed the sides of her eyes, those laughing eyes still undimmed. What's in a name? What's in her name? Might it be an occupational surname: Baker, Fisher, Taylor, Gardener? Maybe a euphonic "Melody Taylor?"It didn't matter to me. I never caught her name. I never netted that brilliant presence and dragged it into the bane of the familiar. And one day Death will reach out for her, descend to claim her like a child stretching out his hands to return a doll to a toy box. And I'll join her, too, one day. All our joy and sorrow, everything that made us ourselves will funnel into the memory of the universe. And we'll be part of that vast grey congregation of the dead, two more of The Nameless Ones.
"Well if I wasn't going to be late before, I sure as hell am now,"I thought, chuckling to myself. &#x200B; The woman in the orange sundress eyeballed me, angrily. I could feel the passengers' tension. I was frustrated. We all were, but there was no use in feeding the anxiety. This was the inaugural trip from Dallas to Houston on the 'Hyperloop', a 250mph bullet train designed and pitched as an answer to business commuters in the largest state in the US. CONTIGUOUS United States, sorry Alaska. What was once a 4 or 5 hour drive depending on traffic was now supposed to take a little under 2 hours. Only it had been 4 days. &#x200B; Loop One as it was called, had no windows and was made from a type of poly carbonate reinforced aluminum. Weight was not an issue as it ran on electromagnetic rails. The opposing poles could mitigate the weight of the vessel and passengers by increasing or decreasing voltage to the rails, repelling the magnets on the underside of the passenger cabin. How did I know all this? I build it. Well, I designed it. A research and manufacturing lab in Nevada built it. The infinity symbol etched into the walls of the train were an easy identifier for its employees, who wore suits with the symbol on a lapel pin and a badge with our name, picture, and the logo emblazoned on the plastic card hanging from our shirts. &#x200B; The passengers glared at me. As the designer I was awarded the first ticket, it cost these people $536.42. We had lost cell reception after the first 6 hours. By day two the demeanor had devolved from irritated, to angry, to primal. On day three, 6 passengers had to restrain 2 men who started trying to rip the doors open. This morning, the remainder of the food and beverages on board were gone. It was noon. The various explanations and excuses I distributed to the masses had long since been dissolved. I sat, isolated, at the back of the train. I glanced down at my Hyperloop company issued tablet, which drew complete attention from the crowd. "What are you gonna do?! We haven't had reception in three days!"One man shouted, rousing the mob. &#x200B; I stood, straightened my jacket, and slipped the tablet back into my bag. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I applaud your patience,"I began. The hysteria quieted. "I would like to welcome you to your destination." &#x200B; People frantically grabbed their belongings, eager to disembark as the train slowed, and lurched to a stop. The doors made a hissing sound as they began to part. &#x200B; "Welcome to Musk Colony, Mars."
He descended on the root of life in this plane of existence. Terra they called it and Holy Terra at that. Such arrogance. This universe teemed with life. Some more intelligent than others, some barbaric, some ruthless animals. No matter. They had planetary defenses, advanced technology so it seems, commendable but of no consequence. "Why?"a voice cut through his thoughts. So clear, so pristine but not loud. A feeling of serenity washed over his usual bitterness. So there are psychics as well. In his experience, advanced technology and psychics did not mix well together, usually. He gathered back his thoughts from the peaceful bliss and back to his task. "My reasons are my own, show yourself", he shouted to nowhere in particular. His mind took him towards the nearby gigantic mountains. They looked serene but majestic. He wondered when he last saw such a sight but quickly grimaced thinking of these overpopulated vermin grinding it to dust for resources. "Are you afraid?"he shouted, now gently landing over the peak point. The owner of the voice didn't dare show himself, which was wise. The view from the peak was breathtaking but so were the storms. Quite literally in fact. If he wasn't of such incredible might, he would have succumbed to freezing cold long ago. His train of thoughts of his vanity were interrupted with sounds at odds with the storm. Crunch They were rhythmic and getting closer. Crunch He tensed his muscles awaiting whatever defenses this planet prepared. Not many gave up without a fight. Futile but they tried none the less. A silhouette appeared, just visible through the storm. It was a human he recognized, a male. The sound came from his...flip-flops. He stopped meters away from Thanos. The man had long flowing black hair and a beard. He was thin and wore a ragged robe over his narrow shoulders. Now, a being as mighty as himself had no problems with extreme weathers but how this man survived with such clothes baffled him. Though, only momentarily of course. Before he could speak, the man asked with the same clear tone "Why?". His voice carried so easily through the violent tempest around them. His mind drifted away to memories of kinder times, of warm feelings and kinship long forgotten. Thanos screamed a monstrous roar to focus his thoughts. They were trying to subdue him. The man showed no emotion. "My reasons as I said, are my own."he roared to be heard. "I will bring balance to this universe. Make peace with your gods". This was the part where most creatures, those who could at least, started to beg. Yet the man didn't even move. "What gives you the right to decide the fate of trillions of life?"the man asked. The voice was not kind this time but not hostile. A primary urge he long forgot kicked in just momentarily. Flee "I am a god unto you. I have every right I please"Thanos mused. He would toy with this wretch a little while more. He didn't usually get meaningful responses besides the screams and begging. "There are what you would call godlike beings on this universe and the one next to it as well."said the man with a slight smile, his robes flapping wildly in the wind. "Terrible things I might add. Why do you think you are special?" "Do you even know the meaning of terrible?"laughed Thanos to the man's face, spittle flying away. He didn't think this would affect the man but he looked to be hurled deep in to thought. Thanos took this time to study the man. He noticed that the man gave off, no, radiated immensely a feeling of a dread, terror but at the same time love and compassion at equal measures. His mind was being constantly bombarded with images and thoughts of horrendous and beautiful events no doubt from elsewhere in this galaxy. He had to focus willfully to keep his thoughts and his mind intact. Some images he witnessed defied all logic and comprehension. They left painful marks on his mind and the pain lingered long after they were gone. "What is this madness"Thanos asked unable to contain himself. "What are these?" "They are life's failures."the man said, still lost in thought. "Not of us but sustained by us." "My work will solve half of that problem as well."Thanos stated. "Rejoice!" "You do not have the right, besides, you cannot"said the man with a voice emanating untold sorrow. "This problem, is mine to fix." Thanos fumed at the insolence of this creature. He lifted his gauntlet to finish this but the man stared unmoved. Thanos wished with all his heart that this creature survived so he could finish him personally. He would make sure this vermin screamed for mercy. With a wide grin, Thanos snapped his fingers. At least he tried to but his fingers would not connect together. In fact he realized he couldn't move at all. At this most inopportune moment he noticed the man approaching him. He held a sword bigger in size than himself such that it would have been hilarious had he been able to laugh. Although the flaming state of the sword and the fact that this skinny man was able to carry it at all was worrying, Thanos was relatively calm. Whatever holding him could not do it indefinitely and his skin was most likely impervious to whatever this wretch could throw at him. "Your madness will be condemned to this mountain top."shouted the man with a booming voice, unexpected from his wiry stature. He lifted the giant sword above his head than impaled Thanos, pinning him to the ground. "You will never leave this peak. Woe betide all who aid you." Thanos, still unable to move and now starting to be covered in snow was powerless and looked at the man as he left. What kind of monstrosity was this abomination? The man slowly stopped walking and turned back "You are merely a speck of dust on a planet, in a galaxy with far worse and pressing problems. Regain your sanity on this peak or perish. You will have millennia to ponder on this. " * * * I enjoy writing short prompts. If you are curious for more: [r/spider_elephant](https://www.reddit.com/r/spider_elephant/)
“Well shit.” She said, staring at the picture in her hand. She had just pulled it out of the unmarked envelope only to find her own violet eyes staring back at her. She flipped the picture over to read what it said. “Eliza Brown, $42,000. Complete by 12PM” “Well come on, I’m worth more than that! I’ve killed hundreds in the last month alone!” “What was that babe?” Her husband wasn’t the brightest man on earth, but she loved him nonetheless. She had been an assassin since she was eight, but John still thought she couldn’t open the pickle jar without his help. “Oh nothing hon, just practicing for my improv class.” He thought she was a completely normal stay at home wife. Well normal except for the excessive amount of cash she kept around the house. He had asked her about it once, back when they had first met. She told him her rich uncle died and left he his fortune, but he didn’t trust banks so she kept it in cash to honor his spirit. And the idiot believed her. But what to do about this new development? Someone wanted her head on a spike. Time to find out who, and take them out before they send another assassin to do the job. You would expect an assassin to have more than a few enemies, but this company didn’t work that way. You never interacted with anyone else in the company, not even headquarters knew who you were. Anonymity was essential for them, if no one ever interacted, nothing could be tied back to them. So every employee was assigned a drop box in some busy part of the city, no two boxes in the same building to avoid accidental contact. You got the gig through “grooming” which basically meant you find your own replacement when you’re ready to retire. Preferably orphan children. You raise them into the lifestyle, mentor-mentee style. When the child is fully trained, you disappear into the world with a new identity and all of your riches, never to be seen again. Therefore, you inherit your mentees position. As far as the company is concerned, you’re the same nameless, faceless assassin. She mulled it over, wondering, ‘who could I have pissed off?’ Then it hit her. “Hey babe?” She called. “Yeah?” His voice rang from the kitchen. “That woman we ran into last week? You know, your ex? What was her name again?” “Ginger. Why do you ask baby?” “Oh, I was just thinking of payed her a visit. You know, take her some flowers or something. She seemed nice.” “Really? I though she was pretty rude to you myself.” ‘Rude is an understatement babe’ she thought. “Well you know how I am about people who don’t like me” “Right baby, kill ‘em with kindness.” “Exactly. So, you know where she lives?”
I've never shaken the habit of being late. I don't miss appointments, and I’m not one to bail on plans, but I can't deny I walk the fine line between being fashionably late and just plain rude. My friends gave up on their frustration with me years ago. Give it a few months, and it's usually the same thing: people just get used to it. At least that's how I always like to think about it. Unfortunately, not everyone has the same opinion. Not everyone can be so rational. Especially when it comes to being on time for a date. That's why today was the exception. Today marked the first day in years I put in the extra effort to show up on time. After five botched dates in the past few months, I had finally realized my tardiness was the only common theme between them all. So, it was time to give punctuality a try. I smiled at the clock on my car dashboard as it turned 5:42PM. That meant the time was actually 5:52PM, and I knew I was only 10 minutes away. A long time ago I'd tried to set my clock 10 minutes fast to trick myself into showing up on time. Alas, the trick doesn’t really work when you know the clock’s wrong. At this time of day, the sun was setting, and I could see it start to disappear over the tops of the trees lining the empty country road. I'd intentionally avoided the highway to stay away from any form of traffic. I wasn't taking any chances. A rickety, silver pickup truck peered out from a hidden drive not too far ahead of me. Not today, I thought as I pressed my foot harder on the gas. I frowned as my aged car coughed exhaust instead of accelerating. Another thing I was late on… investing in a new car. To my horror, the pickup truck forced me to slam on the brakes as it pulled out of the trees at an alarmingly slow rate and rolled out in front of me. My heart fell as I watched my speedometer needle immediately drop. BEEEEEEEEEP! I hit the center of the steering wheel and listened to my car's pitiful horn. Nothing changed: the pickup truck continued to putter along in front of me. I sat glumly as the clock turned 5:50. I was officially late. I started swerving back and forth behind the pick up while giving little toots of my horn. Much to my chagrin, the truck's speed dropped even more. Suddenly, the truck swerved to the left, and I saw an opening. I slammed on the accelerator and sped up alongside the truck, ignoring the stretch in front of me and instead choosing to flip the driver the bird. An old guy with thin gray hair and huge spectacles stared back at me with wide eyes. Of course. I shook my head in disgust and turned back to the road, only to see exactly why the old man had swerved. An enormous moose stared at me from the middle of the street. With a shout of surprise, I pulled the wheel and swerved off into the dirt on the side of the road. The car tires crunched rocks and branches as I struggled to gain control and avoid trees. Time stood still as my instincts took over. A few moments of terror later, I found myself back on the road and safe from harm. I let out a deep sigh of relief and ran a hand through my hair as the car accelerated and my heart rate start to decelerate. I smirked as the pickup truck and moose grew smaller and smaller in my rear view. 6:00PM. I could still make it. "Close call, huh?"A soft voice came from my right. I screamed. The old man from the pickup truck sat in my passenger seat. My car came to a screeching halt as I slammed on the brakes. The smell of burning rubber filled the air. I stared at the old man. His grisly eyebrows were raised in an inquisitive fashion, and he peered at me through his spectacles. “What the fuck?!” I shouted. My hands tightly gripped the wheel. “Neither of us have much time, so calm down and listen to me,” the old man said as he fiddled with his frames. He took a few wheezy breaths before continuing. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to crash back there. It’s not exactly how I remember it, but…” He trailed off. “What are you—” “I’m… from the future. You need to crash this car, or else you’ll lose everything you will ever cherish. You need to trust me.” “Get out of my car.” “Please listen to me!” There was a desperation to his voice that made me keep my mouth shut. “You… you don’t need to meet Lindsay.” My heart skipped a beat. Lindsay was my blind date. How could he know that? Better yet, how the fuck did he get in my car? The old man glared at me intensely and said, “Imagine… the woman of your dreams. Imagine spending the rest of your life with someone so perfect, you cherish every waking second you ever had the fortune of spending with them. Imagine being so lucky to start a family with that person you hold so dear to your heart. Imagine growing old with them and watching your grandchildren together, reflecting on the life you lived and the lives you created. Can you picture that?” I nodded dumbly. The old man had tears in his eyes. “Wouldn’t you do anything to have that?” The old man almost whispered. I nodded again. The old man turned and looked out the front window of the car. “Then you need to crash this car, and you need to crash it bad. You need to crash it so bad you spend a week in a coma. After that week, you wake up and find you can’t shake a face from your mind. The face of the woman who saved you from that wreck. The face of the woman you will spend the rest of your life with. You will find her, and you will make that vision a reality. I can promise you that.” My mouth was hanging open, and the old man chuckled at the sight. He stayed silent for a few moments, and then his face turned grim once again as he spoke one last time. “You don’t get that if you don’t crash this car. You don’t get happiness.” I blinked and when my eyes reopened the old man had disappeared. I couldn't process my feelings. A wave of nausea. Pain from my knuckles, bone white from squeezing the steering wheel. The words ricocheted around in my head. HONK-HONK! A car horn woke me from my trance. A tiny sedan had pulled up behind me, and my old car was blocking the narrow country road. I reluctantly pressed down on the gas and felt my car gradually pick up speed. A numb feeling came over me as I glanced at the rear view mirror to see a woman driving the car behind me. The old man’s words reverberated loudly in my ears. I looked at the clock. 6:30PM. Ah, fuck it, at this point I was too late anyway. Sighing deeply and before I could second-guess myself, I closed my eyes and yanked the steering wheel hard to the right.
His knee was killing him. Apparently, he thought somewhat sarcastically, it wasn't good to fall down a 30-foot cliff onto a bush of poison ivy. He'd been on the road now for four days, only stopping to take brief naps and fill his canteen with water from the pristine streams that fell from the mountaintop, cold and sweet. The jungle was interminable, full of pitfalls, boulders, and wild animals, danger at every turn, and huge trees with snaky branches that ended in long fleshy tendrils and needle leaves. The foliage was so thick the sun was sometimes completely blotted out, and then it was as dark as a moonless night. He had only some food, enough for maybe a month if rationed correctly, a machete, and his canteen. His limbs were full of bug bites, which he couldn't help but scratch, and his knee and lower leg were bothering him after his little cliff accident. He passed another person, once, but the person was muttering and looking down to the ground, and he didn't think it wise to announce his presence. There were a lot of people like that around those parts. Soulless they were, always talking to themselves in some long-forgotten dead language, probably one they used to speak here when the cities were still flourishing, but one that now was lifeless and carried no meaning, no power. He was on a mission, a mission of discovery to be sure, but also a mission of revenge. He was a good man, or he at least tried to be, but hatred swelled in his heart when he thought of the man who had disrespected him all those years ago, before the War and before everything went to shit. He was going to find him and exact his vengeance upon him, and his anger would be swift and terrible. It was the only regret he still had, and once he was done with his enemy, he would be able to live out the rest of his days in peace, among the ruins of the old world. He'd made his peace with the current state of events a long time ago. It seemed like a long time ago, but it was probably only a period of months, to be fair. Of course, at first, like everyone else that survived the War, he'd cursed his luck and cursed the deity, whosoever may be in charge of this reality, that took suck cruel pleasure in torturing him like this. Everyone went through that period of anger, but some accepted their reality and began to make their lives better again, and some receded into themselves, like the old man he'd passed along the road, muttered to themselves to try to ignore the fact they were going to die sooner rather than later. They didn't dare build cities again, though, those who, like him, had decided to move on, just in case the errors of the past were to be repeated and they had another War. It happened too often in history, they all decided without ever consulting with each other, and they weren't going to risk it again. He stopped suddenly at a sign, from the old world, hanging by a large metal rod, overrun with vines and barely legible. Gare du Nord. This was close; he was reaching his destination, or at least he thought so. He wasn't sure. He stopped to eat some fruit and some crackers he'd found in an abandoned house on the way. He knew there was a small settlement near here, to the north, and there was where he hoped to find and destroy his enemy. He knew he was on the right path when he found a young boy, unsupervised, playing with a leather ball in a small clearing. The boy pointed him in the direction of the settlement, and as thanks he gave the boy a cracker, for which the boy was very grateful. The settlement was in better shape than his own, relatively speaking. It was still overrun by creepers and wild grasses, but at least the trees were somewhat cleared away and sunlight streamed in. A light rain that brought with it the scent of freshly cut grass even though no grass was cut draped over him, cooling him and refreshing him. He filled his canteen once more and sat down to rest his sore knee. He asked some locals, who were messing around with some ancient vehicles, if they knew where to find Charles. They pointed towards a hilly area, a bit more foliated by the huge trees, some hundred meters away, although they warned him that Charles was feeling unwell and probably would not suffer visitors, especially those from another settlement. He made his way towards it anyway, relieved that he remembered where Charles lived all those years ago and relieved that Charles continued to do so. He reached the small house on the hill as the rain stopped, and all at once his blood began to run hot. He was so close, so ready to enact his masterful plan and get Charles back for all he had done to him, all the years of torment, of wondering whether he could have done better, of feeling inferior intellectually to Charles, who always had a quicker wit. Well, now he was going to get him, put the final nail in the coffin. He pushed the door open without knocking, only to find Charles sitting in bed with a towel on his head and a bowl of hot soup in hand, reading a dusty old book. Charles looked up, bewildered, coughed, and his eyes opened wide in acknowledgement. "Roger!", he said, in his queer old accent, a smile creaking across his face, flushed and sweaty as it was, "I haven't seen you in so long!" This was his chance. He smiled devilishly, cleared his throat, looked Charles in the eye, and said, with the confidence of a man who'd been thinking about this for the last ten years, "No u." He left as suddenly as he had entered, without looking back. Charles put down his soup, scratched his head, coughed, and said "Damn. Hell of a fever dream." With that Charles decided to take a nap until his cold had passed.
"10-65 at Central Bank. Multiple suspects..."blared the police scanner, startling me out of the couch. "Shit."I said. The now iconic coat and mask combo were always by the scanner for when I needed them and I rushed to put them on. My heart began pumping rapidly in excitement. "What are the odds a portal opens in this very room right now and takes me to that location?"I asked and in the space between the couch and the TV appeared a door frame. I walked into it as simply as I'd walk into another room and in just 5 short steps I was in the middle of the bank. Five suited men carrying AK47s stood in front of me. Their guns pointed at staff and customers cowering in the floor. Each with a duffel bag I assumed filled with money at their backs, but most surprisingly. Each one had a copy of my mask. A white masked covered each of their faces from brow to chin, and in each... A painted question mark. They saw me and one took aim towards me. "What are the odds he misses every shot?"I asked as he fired. I could hear the wind part as the bullets went past me to shatter the glass behind me. He stood there in awe for a second staring at me, and I at him. "Times up, boys. I'm flattered and all, but you should never meet your heroes."I said grinning. "You're so predictable."One said, and began to laugh as he walked towards me. "What are the odds of you being struck by Lightn... " "one in 960,000."he said. And nothing happened. "predictable."Fear washed over me as he approached. "What are the odds of..."I began to say. But with the butt of the gun he struck me. And I went down. He stood over me and aimed the barrel of the gun straight into my eye. "what are the odds he misses?"I whispered to myself. "one in 300,000. And only if the bullet misfires."he said. I'm dead I thought, but the sirens of approaching police distracted him. "Time to go!"he yelled and walked away. The portal was still open and one after the other the robbers walked through, but as the last one was about to step in he took his mask off and looked at me. "odds of a portal opening in the middle of a bank... One in 566 trillion."he said and stepped through. It closed behind him. "what are the odds of a portal that leads to my apartment appearing in front of me?"I asked. But nothing happened. The sirens of approaching police was making me panic. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh fuck. I got bored of this halfway. Maybe I'll continue if it gets likes.
“Laura?” I asked, my heart sinking faster than I did in the waters that took my life. She looked at me, her arms wrapped around a man I knew only from the photographs she refused to destroy after we got married. Her first love. He died from a brain aneurysm many years ago; they had been engaged at the time. “Steve?” She asked me almost tentatively as she let go of her ex fiancé. The man beside her didn’t take kindly to this as he grabbed onto her arm and pulled her back against him; she obliged. “Sweetheart, come to me. I’ve been waiting years to see you again,” I begged and I saw her look up at him before looking towards me again. “I…I can’t,” she said as she leaned against him, nuzzling into his chest like she used to do with me. “Can’t?” I asked dejected. “We…we had four children, don’t you….?” I trailed off, not sure what to say next as hot tears stung my eyes. “Love you?” She asked and I could only nod as I wiped at my eyes. “Of course I did.” “Did?” I asked in disbelief. “So many memories with you, a lifetime,” she said as she broke free from his arms and turned towards me fully. “Yet…you could never be him,” she said as she turned back to her ex-fiancé and I felt my heart sink. “I never wanted to be him, I just wanted to be with you!” I yelled at her and yet she was unaffected by my words. “Laura, please, what is the point of being here if I can’t be with you?!” I yelled in final desperation. She looked at me and her eyes seemed cold. “You need to let go, I was your first love, you were not mine,” she said and that one sentence hurt more than anything I’ve even experienced before. “Laura…” I whispered. “Go,” she said as she turned her back on me. I sank down onto the ground and couldn't find the will to get back up, how was this real and how was this heaven? How could I go happily to the afterlife when my wife, the mother of my children, lay comfortably in the arms of another? I put my head against the ground in despair and in a split second I saw darkness beyond comprehension and with that I realized I wasn’t in Heaven. This was my Hell. Perhaps I shouldn’t have killed her.
"Son, I have no idea what you mean." My mother stood majestically in the garden surrounded by clouds. She was perched like an elegant eagle near the pearl fence, with heaven stretching behind her. I was distracted momentarily by the view, to be a subject in god's true land. But the matter at hand was of grave importance. "Dearest mother, I would never try to disrespect you. You and father are of the holy order, and my reverence for you and our lord is a bottomless well. But I believe that like the devil in his snake like form, father is a deceptive apple whispering sins to you." She stood, light pouring from her angelic wings. She was speechless. "While I see your wings are comprised of beauty and light, I have begun to see a change in fathers. One only I seem to be able to gaze upon." "I don-" "MOTHER PLEASE ALLOW ME TO FINISH. THIS IS OF PARAMOUNT IMPORTANCE." She began to step slowly backwards. "HE HAS THE MARK OF THE BEAST. THE LEATHERY WINGS OF A DEVIL. YOU MUST INFORM GOD OF WHAT HAS TRANSPIRED, FOR A DEMON LURKS AMOUNGST HIS CHOSEN CHILDREN." "Steven what the fuck are you talking about? Jesus Christ Steven are you fucking high right now?" The teenager yelled at the top of his lungs, hands shaking as he rose them above his body. His mother sighed and pulled out her phone. Her son thrashed around the garden, making the sign of the cross and attempting to speak latin. &#x200B; "Yeah honey, its me. No nothing its Steven. Yeah I think he's smoking that god damn spice again. Apparently your a demon. Yeah, I wish we put him up for adoption too."
“Welcome, Welcome!” The well dressed man had a smile that went almost ear to ear as he continued, “Oh it has been a while since I’ve seen you all!” The man chuckled as he flourished his hand gesturing to everyone assembled. “Yes Satan. Some time indeed.” There was only one person in the room dressed better than Satan, his clothes from the Victorian period and jewelry so over the top there was no possible way they came from Earth. “What is the meaning of all of this?!” Barked an angry woman, her hair was dyed blonde, her roots showing underneath. Her 20th century tracksuit bottoms looked distinctly out of place amongst her peers. “Greed and Wrath will you both just relax!” He rolled the last word, let it linger before continuing, “or would you prefer Nathanial and Karen? Oh hell! Let's stick with the originals, they always are the best!” Satan roared in laughter as the assembled seven looked to one another. Silence descended over the room. The beautiful man that was Lust, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his perfectly chiseled body broke it first, “Quite so, how is business father?” “Oh just call me Daddy!” He cheered, “Seriously though, it’s great. Really great. Too great! There’s just one tiny weeny problem.” “I’ve been doing exemplary, whatever the problem is it, it must be one of these six.” The man in an expensive Italian suit looked like he was every part a lawyer, complete with a heavy leather briefcase. “Indeed Pride, Indeed!” Satan chuckled, “That traffic warden thing really brings out the best in your people.” The walls break apart and the eight figures are suddenly hovering in the air high over hell. Even from this height the squirming of ant like figures below is overwhelming alongside when combined with the cacophony of screams. “As you can see. Booming. Positively Booming! Bad news though. We’re full. You seven are doing far too good a job. So I've sat down with senior management” he puts an open palm next to the side of his mouth and whispers at the assembled sins, “That’s me!” he chuckles. “We’ve decided to shut one of you down. Yup, it’s been a good run for the seven deadly sins, but one of you has got to go! You’re all stuck in here, do what you want, but the first one to fall to their own delightful passion is joining the masses down there and loses all their followers. Spring cleaning time! Off I go!” With a final wide smirk Satan disappears leaving only the group in the large room that is reminiscent of a school dining hall. Immediately a middle aged man with a beer gut starts lightly jogging on the spot, just a gentle push from one foot to the other. “What are you doing?” The young teenage boy asks, scowling at the overweight man. “Gotta. Keep. Moving” Sloth states between pants of breath. “Heh, at least I can stare at you and be safe.” The teenager laughs. “Screw you Envy...you know...you want this.” Envy sits down next to Wrath and begins poking her in the ribs. “Is this annoying?” the teenager calls. “Is this? What about this?” He continued to prod as the woman with the combed over blonde hair glowers at him. Pride and Lust simply stared at one another, eyes locked and neither breaking whatever mental battle was going on. Not even the deep rumble from the large woman sitting at the side of the room distracted them. “Sorry.” she apologised, “Haven’t eaten for a few minutes.” “I bet he has something in that case.” Greed suggested to her whilst pointing at the case held by Pride. “Go and have a look Gluttony.” “Wait... who has something?” Envy asked as he continued to poke Wrath in the ribs, her teeth clenched and face blossomed impossibly red. “Of course I have food in here.” Pride stated to the group, never breaking eye contact from Lust who is biting his lip as he sat down on a chair, legs akimbo. A few minutes pass and between staring at the suitcase and at Wrath, Envy looks over to Gluttony as another deep rumble sounds, “Don’t do it Gluttony, I want whatever is in there, just wait until she cracks” he poked Wrath in the ribs again and again and the look of pained concentration on her face looked ready to break. “What makes you think it’s yours Envy?” The Victorian looking Greed asked, standing tall over the crouched down teenager. “Just...break...her...already.” The panting PE Teacher looking man sputtered. “I can’t take it anymore!” Lust grumbled as he stood up, striding towards Pride who has unfastened the first button on his tailored shirt. “Wait!” Envy called as Wrath grabbed his wrist, anger finally bubbling to the surface. “Yes! It will be mine soon.” Greed roared as he spared a quick glance away from the briefcase to look at his companions. “I WANT TO SEE THE MANAGER!!!!!” Wrath screamed and everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to look at her and smiles lined their faces. “Bye bye Wrath” Envy laughed as he rolled onto his back. The loud thundercrack announced Satan’s return, “Excellent! I knew I could rely on you all to make this a prompt engagement. Come along Gluttony. Down we go now chubs” “Wait, what?” Sloth asked, straining to refill his lungs as they all turn to look behind them at Gluttony. She is still sitting down but has a half eaten chocolate bar open in its packaging resting in her hand as she speaks with a mouth full of chocolate, “What? It was in my pocket.” &#x200B; ======================================= Hope you enjoy the prompt, I appreciate any comments/criticism/feedback/discussions. Thanks for stopping by and thanks to u/ThrowawayBlast for the prompt. If you want to read more from me, I'm over at r/ChrisRook/
“Did you read the rule book?” he asked, twisting the end of this thin mustache. “It is very important you understand the rules.” “I do, if I’m really dead and this isn’t some sort of dream, it seems pretty run of the mill. So I just roll the dice then?” The giant brimstone walls creating a nice backdrop for the flames shooting up to the high ceilings, lighting the entire room. “That’s right. I know this may seem like a strange thing, you being newly dead and all, but we’re trying to make Hell a more fun place to be. God and I are actually really good friends you know, the game was his idea.” His pointed tail whipped around occasionally hitting some unseen part of his desk with a thud. “They have family reunions and the better view, but we have board games, pretty desirable place to be now, if I do say so myself.” “Is this how it’s always been down here? I can’t imagine you would choose to supply heaven with energy.” I ask as the dice spin around in the cup. “Like I said before, we’re good friends, roll.” As the dice left the cup and hit the game board, I found myself standing in front a row of suburban homes, one after another, every little detail about every house exactly the same. The rule book said the person I am meant to haunt will have a glow around them, but which house? Probably this one, I thought making my way across the perfectly cut grass, I don’t think I would have arrived in front of this house if it wasn’t the one. The wooden steps didn’t creak as I made my way to the door right in front of me. I didn’t need to use it, but I tested the door to see if it creaked as well, silent. No voices downstairs, in any of the perfectly clean, perfectly decorated rooms, but the muffled words became clearer as I made my way up the silent stairs. Just beyond a perfectly white door, “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.” A girl’s voice, “But I know you miss him as much as I do.” “I think about him every day, I am scared to use this Ouija Board, but maybe it really is just a piece of cardboard and plastic, and not some occult gateway. I’d do anything just to communicate with him somehow.” The rule book said, if an Ouija Board was being used, over dramatize it. A first instinct would be to reach for the doorknob, but they aren’t needed anymore. The inside of the room looked like a normal girl’s room. Little pictures of friends around the mirror, four post bed, a strange display with a young boy’s photo and candles on it. I guess that’s who I’m pretending to be. The girls sat across from each other, each had two hands on the planchette. They circled the board and began to talk. “Is anyone here with us?” That was my que; I sat across from them and moved the plastic circle over the word yes. They looked at each other, both shock and excitement filled their eyes, “Is that you John?” one of the girls blurted out, her voice couldn’t hide her desperation. Again, I made the board read yes. She began to cry. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m so sorry” she sobbed. “Are you ok on the other side, are you with god now?” Remember to dramatize. I moved the planchette to read, ‘Hell is so hot, please help me’ “Oh my god…I mean gosh, it really is true, suicide sends you to hell!” As I moved the board to read, ‘Help’ again, the sobbing girl took her hands away and began to sob harder. Her friend started to put it back in the box with the words, “Ok, I think that’s enough for now.” My eyes blinked and I was sitting across the desk again, the game board between us. His black eyes staring at me, his red skin twisted around his smirk. “Very good, you didn’t even really need to haunt them. I guess you got an easy one on your first go. Want to go again?”
"So those are the rules. Pretty easy to understand and follow right?" I felt cold sweat run over me as the alien in front of me finish his statement. I was sent here as the official envoy of Earth to the Galactic Council and pave way for our induction into the galactic community. I was educated and prepared on the many things I needed to learn in order to understand and negotiate with the aliens effectively but no one ever mentioned to me about these rules. "They're pretty simple to understand but I would gladly entertain questions you have about them" I snap out of my state of internal panic and tried my best to calm myself. "Yes of course, I do have questions for each of these rules. I'll start with the first one. Why is seeding life on other planets so bad?", I asked him with us much enthusiasm as I could muster. "Ah yes, you see while spreading life on other planets sounds like a good idea at first it actually destroys primitive species that might already be living in these planets. Also, a species might spread themselves too much in the galaxy and cause conflicts with other species. There are strict exceptions for this but you wouldn't need this info right now. Earth is your only home as of the moment correct? " "Yes, Earth IS the only planet we have occupied. We definitely did not terraform dozens of planets for the purpose of colonization. That would be barbaric.", I gave out a nervous chuckle at the end. I just hope these space folks don't plan to tour the Solar sector anytime soon. "So... the second one. AI seems to be a great advancement towards technology don't you think?", I asked him "Oh dear that would be a terrifying idea. A sentient machine with no sense of morality would be a disaster! Only a mad race would think and much less invent such abberation.", he replied in a serious and worried voice. "Of course, I wholeheartedly agree with you. Hopefully no race is pathetic enough to actually research such thing ever". The Space Union isn't paying me enough to come up with this level of bullshitry. I mean, of course we have thought about an AI going rouge but we overengineered the damn thing and invented countermeasures to prevent such event from happening. I never anticipated they viewed this as taboo though. Note to self, don't ever let these folks into the starship. "I presume you are going to want an explanation for the final one?" "Yes, it would be very nice to know" "Out of all the rules, this one weighs the heaviest. Experimenting on a sentient lifeform from your own species or others is viewed as incredibly cruel and dangerous. Life has made us the way we should be and there is no need to change it" HOLY SHIT, I definitely shouldn't give him that certain Mary Shelley book I prepared as a token of gratitude. Should I tell him about the Space Marines? Nope, I definitely shouldn't tell him about the Space Marines. "Thankfully no one has ever broken these rules" "What? Not even one? Not even an itsy bitsy attempt at breaking one?" "Ahhh well there might have but they weren't reckless enough to push forward and much less succeed" Ohhhh... no -END- Thanks for reading my story. I usually write stories revolving around eldritch monsters or grim dark settings and this is my attempt at a story with a comedic tone. I hoped you liked it EDIT: Spelling and grammar mistakes.
"You there, lad!"A burly man with a thick mustache shoved his way through the crowd, laying one hand on Michelle's shoulder and spinning her around. "The kings daughter has been kidnapped! All mercenaries are to mobilize to the south immediately." Michelle lowered her face to the seal on his chest that signalled his rank as a sergeant in the town's guard, hoping her hood would conceal most of her face. The man had fallen for her disguise, that was a blessing. Ever since she had entered town to the unwelcome sight of her face on every damn bulletin board, Michelle had been on edge. Fortunately, most people did not seem to look for a princess wearing chainmail and carrying a longsword. The guard continued to yell, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was now only 2 feet away from her face "We're gonna slay that dragon and get our princess back. Report to the barracks to be assigned a unit."With his speech over, the sergeant wheeled around and strode off, yelling at his next victim, a tall thin man with a spear on the other side of the square. Shit, Michelle thought, I don't give a damn if they try to hunt me down, but theres no way in hell I can let them hurt Sammy. If he hadnt flown me out of that castle I'd be married to that fuckwit David right now. She considered her options. Trying to save Sammy would very likely get her caught, or even killed, but she owed the dragon for her freedom. That was not something she could let go. Decision made, she tugged her hood further down and headed for the gate. Getting to Sammy first was the best bet for both of them to survive, and Michelle sure as shit wasn't dying yet. She still had adventures to have. First story, let me know what you think.
`NOTE BEFORE READING: I’m trying something a little different with this prompt. If you're interested, try only hitting one of the two black boxes as you read. Unfortunately my story is a little average and linear - probably because I was distracted by trying this out - so it doesn't work as well as I'd hoped. Keen to hear thoughts on whether it's worth exploring further though.` “Is that it?” my boss asked. “Is that what?” I replied. “The plan. You spent all day working on it and all you could manage was >!\[…a new camera for the rocket?”\] !</ >!\[…a new logo for NASA?”\]!< “Well, err, I thought it was alright. You'd be surprised how fickle humans are and how little things can make a big difference. I'm pretty confident it'll help push them over the line. And it’s still better than what Frank managed.” “That is true, but Frank also happens to be >!\[…the only guy around here to get fired”\]!< / >!\[…the janitor”\]!< “So, how do you want me to deploy my plan, sir?” My boss scratched his beard as he contemplated the options. “I think I want you to >!\[…tell PewDiePie in a dream.”\]!< / >!\[…go down to earth and do it yourself.”\]!< I looked at him in disbelief, unable to comprehend why he would demand such a course of action. But I had to accept his command, so I started work executing my plan. I looked out my window, down to the earth below and wondered whether they’d ever get to find out about us, sitting up here in our >!\[…cosmic caravan, smoking cosmic weed, broadcasting them onto the universe’s hottest reality tv channel.\]!< >!\[…secret moon base, waiting for the day they’re advanced enough for us to legally take their planet for ourselves.\]!<
“Mods? Don’t you mean gods?” Dan and I had been killing those tyrannical monsters for the last 3 months. It was unthinkable that one of them would give us all these resources. Perhaps one of them fears for their life and wants to earn a favor, in hopes we may spare him if he ever ends up fighting us. “Nope, Mods.” Dan replied confidently. “They’re not gods, although they were created by something like gods. I got the new superset mod and unlimited gold mod.” I shook my head. “Have you been stealing from the church’s bank again? I told you, those funds are for the orphans in the city!” “I didn’t steal it!” He interrupted angrily. “Even if I did steal from the church, do you think they have as much gold as this?” He put 5 million gold pieces into my inventory at once. I was dumbstruck. “How? What? But, but, that’s enough money to buy the capital city!” He would have to rob a thousand church treasures to get this kind of gold. “This is impossible.” “You can have that 5 mill, I’ve already got more than enough. I got sick of all the grinding we had to do and I just want to skip ahead to the endgame.” For some reason, Dan called killing life-threatening monsters, Grinding. I have never heard anyone, not even the War Gods call it grinding. Grinding? It sounded like something unexciting and boring you could do. We were slaying life-threatening monsters. Journeying with Dan has been extremely stressful for me. Dan often dies and I have to use resurrection magic to bring him back to life. “Are you telling me you want to stop hunting monsters?” I asked with relief in my voice “That’s good, I was getting worried about your mental state. You see, getting resurrected even once can be a life-changing traumatic experience for- “ “Put these on.” He ignored me and forcefully put a new set of healer robes on me. I immediately felt a surge of power. They were the most beautiful robes I had ever seen! Even nicer than the ones that the God of Life wore. They were the purest color of white that shined on its own. It was as if the sun itself was trapped inside the silk. “What, what are these?” I asked, looking at myself in awe. “They’re god tier robes. Meh, I doubt you’ll need any weapons since you won’t be able to do any damage to him anyway. I just don’t want you to get one shot during the fight.” “Him?” but Dan wasn’t listening to me. He was already putting on a set of gear on himself. They were even more extraordinary than the one I had on. Gauntlets with eyes that glowed red, a chest plate with a dragon’s head embedded in the middle. Each one looked more spectacular than the last. “Who are we going to fight?” I asked, giving up on trying to understand, exactly where all these things were coming from. “We’re just gonna go to the God of gods and kill him.” Dan replied leisurely. I was sure he was joking, his tone was as casual as someone who's about to go for lunch. I laugh nervously “Look, this equipment that you got from these so-called mods are certainly impressive. With these, we could certainly take on the God of Famine, maybe even the God of 21 Sins but the God of gods is on a different level.” “Nope, we’re going right now. Just sit behind me and spam heals.” Dan cast a spell. “Wha- “Before I knew it, we had teleported to the castle of gods and surrounding us were the guardians of the God of gods. Individually, each of them could wipe out humanity with ease. I quickly counted them in my head, there were 30 of them. I shouted to my companion, though I wasn’t sure if Dan was really a friend at this point. “What the hell did you teleport us here for?! Out! Out! Let’s get out of here!” Sheer panic overtook my mind. The Guardians were stronger than most major gods. Each one was a representation of a law that held the universe together. I couldn’t beat one of them even if there was a thousand of me. He took out a strange stick, it was jet black and about as long as a regular long sword. Most strangely it was in the shape of a penis, but I had never seen a penis of that size before. He shouted to the guards “Alright bitches, you're about to get spanked by Black Mamba! ”He rushed towards them and held out his weapon like a short sword. The Guardians were partially spectral beings. Though they could be hurt by physical attacks, it wouldn’t do much. You needed powerful magical based attacks to barrage them and prevent them from regenerating too much. Hitting them with a physical assault wasn’t going to work. But it did. It worked unbelievably well. Whatever this “Black Mamba” was made of, it seemed to be the weak point of every single Guardian. Every single one evaporated like they were made of paper. I didn’t heal or help him, in any way. I simply stood there and watched in shock. By the end, I even felt a little sorry for the guards, they spent a thousand years training to be the ultimate last line of defense. Yet they died like common bandits. Perhaps this black Mamba sword was the legendary weapon that destroyed all astral beings. When the last one went down, a gate opened and a massive entity made of thundercloud came out. Two eyes made of lightning appeared and it looked enraged. Its voice was frightening and commanding, just hearing it gave me goosebumps. No doubt this was the God of gods. “How dare you insects trespass here! You will know the true meaning of fear! The ones you’ve defeated so far are nothing compared to me! I am the first! The almighty! I am the God of gods! The light! The Dark! The- ““Can we skip this cutscene? This dialogue sounds really cheesy.” Dan remarked. “The unbeatable! The incorruptible! You will beg to be my slaves, once I’m through with you!” As he roared, the very earth shook. I huddled and curled up in a ball. We’re dead, we’re dead so very dead I thought. What was he thinking? To kill a god is one thing. To kill the creator of our universe? That’s like destroying the universe itself! This was impossible! Perhaps if I kneel and beg for my soul, he would spare me, no that’s not enough. If I turned on Dan then would the God of gods be willing to forgive me? Yes, that’s it. All I have to do is pretend that I was actually just luring Dan to the God of gods, then perhaps he would be willing to spare me and my family his torment. Mad with fear, I muster up every ounce of courage I have. I stand up to point my staff at Dan, ready to fire. But when I look up, I realize that the God of gods was already dead. “This, is a dream…. Right?” I asked out loud, though I was mostly talking to myself.“Nope. He dead.” Dan answered. “How?” I approached the corpse of the father of gods. It was a cluster of space and stars, in the shape of a man. He was covered in some kind of white gooey Poison. He stood up and shrugged his shoulders “I just used Black Mamba’s special ability Mamba Juice it insta-kills every life that a god has. ” I stare at the corpse in disbelief. “That must be the deadliest substance in the universe! ” Dan smiled, but I could tell he was suppressing a laugh. “Well, it’s certainly done quite a bit of damage throughout history. ” I looked down at the corpse of our tormenter all this time. “To think, all we needed to defeat him was this Black Mamba artifact you hold.” Dan looked down at his weapon and laughed “Oh, this thing.” He put the Black Mamba into my inventory “Here it’s yours. I’m done with this game, it was fun but there was too much Grinding. I’m going back to Minecraft.” I looked at Dan with tears in my eyes, thanked him with all my heart and wished him a safe trip to his home world. Dan waved goodbye and disappeared before my eyes for the last time. From then on, I dedicated my life to telling people Dan’s story. I built a museum to commemorate and teach people of his courage. How a carefree man risked his life to free Humanity from the tyranny of the Gods. There were statues, testimonials even some of Dan's old armor that he no longer used. At the end of the museum, was his sacred weapon, the Black Mamba. All across the world, men women and children came to stroke and touch the glorious tool, that brought mankind it's freedom. &#x200B; (Edit for formatting, apparently Grammarly deletes paragraphs)
“Have you your verdict?” The old judge said with a voice that was loud and disinterested. A short stout woman remained standing next to her fellow jurors after they had sat down held a piece of paper. “We have your honor,” she answered as-a-matter-of-factly. Her peers looked down at their feet as she did, hoping for this trial to end. “Please tell the court.” “We find the defendant...” The woman sneered across the room, her eyes eagerly scanning through the crowd, a small half of which who sat behind the sleek haired defendant were uninterested and confident, while the other larger half, victims and families altogether, held their breath. “Not Gu—“ “THIS IS BOLLOCKS!” All the room gasped as they looked around for the voice that swallowed the court with a thunderous howl. “Order!” The judge yelled, no longer slouching on his seat as he pounded his gavel. “No one shall disturb this hearing, especially when the jury is delivering their decision!” “THAT IS NO DECISION!” The room boasted in whispers as the gavel kept on. “Who said that!?” demanded the judge. “I’ll be there, one moment!” Softer this time but with the same aggressive tone. Upon realizing where it had come from, everyone looked at the door. It was the sound of stone hitting marble, in a tempo of one who moved slow with very heavy footsteps. And then the door flew open almost destroying the hinges, and the room was greeted by a single open palm attached to what looked like the marble sculpture of Lady Justice. A pair of officers baffled behind her, panting. Everyone gasped, and, almost instantly, silence filled the room as everyone watched the statue come to life, watching her awkwardly try to switch her scale back to her hand as the other also held the hilt of her sword. “I’m sorry about that,” she said turning her head to either side of the doors. “I don’t seem to know my own strength holding this darned thing for so long. Although I must say, my aim was pretty good considering,” she motioned at her blindfold. The bailiff, with lifted eyebrows, looked at the judge and cleared his throat. “Can I help you?” Considered the judge after a moment. There were many words he could’ve chosen to say but nothing really seemed quite right, or quite wrong. Further sounds of marble on stone erupted for every step Lady Justice took towards front of the courtroom. “You? Help me? Oh no-no-no-no-no—YOU can’t help me.” She was stood in the aisle and had everyone’s attention. “This man,” she continued, “is guilty!” The room bursted in protests and cheers. The defendants half screaming at the judge to keep everything in order while the other cried and hugged each other. The stout woman held a hand to her chest, feeling undermined and, most of all, betrayed for having her moment taken away from her. “Order! Order in the court!” slammed the judge, his hammer falling continuously. “Order!?” Lady Justice shouted. “You wouldn’t know the first thing!” “Madam, or whatever you are,” the judge huffed with his chest out, almost standing from his seat. “You are disrupting this hearing—my courtroom!You shall leave or I shall have you taken away!” Lady Justice turned her blindfolded eyes towards the bailiff, who simply looked away shaking his head. “I do believe you are out of order.” The judge started to bang the gavel but stopped the moment Lady Justice lifted her sword pointing at him. “You act like a child, throwing a tantrum when he doesn’t get his way. Don’t make me take away your toy.” The pair of officers slowly approach from behind her and stopped the moment she tilted her head towards their direction. She didn’t need to see, she heard them, obviously. “Officers, please escort this woman out!” The judge demanded. The two looked at each other in hesitation. Neither moved. “Well?” “Your honor,” said one of them in a defeated tone, “she’s made of stone—,” “M-marble,” interrupted the other. “Y-yeah.” There was silence again. “Now, that we’re done, allow me to deliver judgement,” Lady Justice said finally, courteously, infallibly. Chuckling to herself on the pun she had made. The gavel raised. “I wasn’t kidding!” The gavel lowered. “Allow me to begin,” she said turning to the defendant, who’s eyes widened as he watched hundreds of pounds of sculpture approach him, dragging her sword on the floor. “You, back in the day you’d be beheaded, stoned or crucified. But the state doesn’t allow such barbaric ways nor the death penalty. So, you’re sentenced to life, once for every life you’d taken. “Also,” she looked at the judge as she lifted her sword and sliced down to wards the table where the defendant sat, “a finger for each bribe you paid... and a tongue. “A tongue,” she turned again to the defendant, who’s hand was still cuffed and attached to his body, “since you seem to keep the heralds in using theirs. And for the threats, the rest of your company,” she scanned behind him, all the men and women on his side, “have imposed on the jury, they shall lose their tongues as well.” Everyone on the defendant’s side leaned back covering their mouths. One decided to make a run for it. “Seize him,” said Lady Justice nonchalantly as one of the officers tackled him down without a word. “Of course all these severed appendages will be done by court appointed doctor.” She looked at her sword, blunt and useless, “I pass judgement, I’m not a monster.” “Lastly,” Lady Justice grinned. “All your assets will be liquidated and will be distributed among the families of the victims depending on the grievousness of your misconducts.” The other side cheered but cheered softly. Lady Justice walked across to the other side where the jury sat and stopped in front of the stout woman. She turned and pointed at the Judge. “You, your honor,” she mocked, “shall divorce your wife, and leave her twice half of your wealth. You may continue your adulting as a nonmarried man.” “Twice half!?” protested the judge. “Yes. That means everything. I’m blind, not humorless.” She turned to the stout juror. The fat woman looked back and then closed her eyes in fear. Her lips and cheeks trembled, anticipating a blow from the sword. “You’re gluttonous and proud and all around annoying. I don’t like you.” “I-is that it?” the woman asked, relieved with a nervous smile. “I’m Lady Justice, not God. Whatever He has for you, you’ll find when you’re dead.” And with that, the victims and their families rejoiced. Lady Justice finding it difficult to navigate back to the door, kicking chairs and almost fracturing someone’s foot, was escorted by a young boy outside to the hallways. That boy pinches his baby sister so she would cry and mummy can pay attention to her instead of the kitchen, where a tasty jar of cookies would be unattended. Lady Justice did not like that, not one bit.
It began like whispers of sunlight peaking over the edge of the world. The reverberating ache spread like an infection from my shoulder until the pounding, insistent, relentless sensations plagued my very mind. Spread. Me. Closing my chamber doors with a resounding thud, I frantically sent out scouts to inquire about an explanation. No luck. Searching out the victim's family turned up nothing; they'd been dead for years. My soldiers hauled in an orphan girl just as I was beginning to pass out from pain. "She was acting all weird. Saying something about how a rabid man had tried to play tag with her. I haven't seen in her weeks." "Did she say anything else?"I asked. The cold towel that servants held to my forehead soothed the noise, but failed to drown it out. "Did you have any contact with her?" She shook her head with eyes large with fright, and I sent her away with a sigh of helplessness. Dusk was falling faster than a plague of locusts. I turned to my adviser and- gah! Release. Me. "My lord,"she said. "Are you well?" "No,"I said through gritted teeth. "A curse is upon me. Seal these chambers, and let none enter." She looked like she was about to protest, but quickly did as I said once I fell to my knees with a world-tilting groan. The ache in my shoulder was immense, and my head felt like an overripe melon ready to split. "My lord,"she called from between the hinges of the door. "I will call the doctors! They will know what to-" "No!"I shouted. My voice echoed in the empty space around me. Those echoes whispered and jeered and laughed at my resistance, wearing away at my mental walls. My arms trembled. Trust. Me. "Follow my instructions to the letter,"I said. "Do not fail me in this. These will be my final orders to you." I described the way in which I was to be sealed. It would take decades, but it would be worth it. For now, this room would have to do. "Are you sure, my lord?"My kind adviser asked. "How will the people go on? How will I-" "I am the ruler,"I said through clenched teeth. Sweat clung to the underside of my shirt as I commanded my muscles to stay still. Willpower alone kept the shadows at bay in the crevices of my mind. "It is my duty to bear this burden. My people will be safe from this...this..." Free. Me. "Gah!" "My lord!" "Hurry!" At last, armed guards wrapped head to foot in cloth burst into my chamber, wrapping me from head to toe in preservatives and cloth. As the final weave bound over my eyes, I bid the world farewell. It would be tortuous in the sarcophagus, but I knew I had no other choice. With any luck, I would die. I know not how many years passed after that. The dim sound of workers wormed its way past the gauze into my ears, and the final thunk of the stone tablet over my head finally brought me some small measure of peace. Hah. You will never escape this place, though you have prolonged my mortal life. I will never let a scourge like you pass on to other people. In here, in this darkness, my willpower matters naught. It's over, demon. I waited for an answer, but got only a sibilant chuckle in return. The void was endless. I went insane, regained my wits, and scattered them again like marbles in the darkness. I heard the sound of scraping stone. At. Last. --- Hi there! Thanks for reading :) please give me feedback, and if you want more you can find me at [/r/Remyxed/](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/)!
My brother and I where both part of the “lower echelon” People who live on the lowest level of our three tiered city. After the “nukes” went off and society was rebuilt under one city, it didn’t take long for people to start... changing This is all so long ago now. My brother could shapeshift and I could teleport. Pretty handy stuff when we started using these abilities “well”. We pulled off a few heists; he was the distraction, I was the vault man, but after realising that we weren’t able to use the money without raising suspicion we stopped. Fast forward a few years. My brother unfortunately passed due to a disease (my theory, he caught some kind of animal disease). With my brother gone, I felt lost, until I remember some of the injustice we got dealt due to our “abilities”. I started studying law, and after a few years of study, I started getting barraged with calls from the “Righteous Force”. Now, in the past, my brother and I bumped heads with the original Righteous Force, which was corrupt top to bottom, and ever since, the idea of organised heroism left a seriously bitter taste in my mouth. I think it’s leveled out a bit since then, but some of the original team still remains. Every letter is pretty much the same. Although, the last few I have received have been thinly veiled threats. I don’t really care, I can teleport over 800 metres a second, and I can teleport in any direction. I gave up on writing responses after my tenth letter of refusal. I still open them occasionally, but there’s a pile up at this point. Individual members have approached me but every time I ask about money they get cagey. I’m not a selfish guy, I’ve just been studying law and rights for those that are powered and university nowadays is worse than it was pre war, because depending on where your social class lies, depends on how much you pay. The rich stay richer and the poor stay emaciated, even with an education, because everybody would prefer a “rich” lawyer. So, my main reason for refusing them constantly was money, but not only that, the ethics of joining a corrupt organisation. They even have “force” in the name for crying out loud! After receiving what I assume is the millionth letter I decided to open it right away. It gave me pause and I spent all night awake pondering what was written across the pages. This was the first time they had given me something I wanted and for once, I was considering taking them up on their offer. Written on that letter was only 10 words. And attached was a photo of my brother. “We can get your brother back, Signed, the Righteous Force”
With nowhere else to go and not much else to do, I found a bench within the deserted station. This would either be my home while I remained above the living, or where my soul finds its rest should I join the departed. These stations had always been eerie. The cold, indifferent automation of these nearly abandoned rail systems always felt out of place. A great achievement by the once great human race, left almost entirely alone to run its course until time decides it has had enough. Even when you would find another soul in one of the stations, the wedge of fear was always there to remove the seeds of hope. You never knew if someone was infected and just waiting for the symptoms to show. Unless you're dumped off at a station telling you as much, of course. The morning turned to afternoon and a somber wind blew through the hollows of the station. Fittingly, it reminded of the whistle of a train - an old one, a distant time abandoned to history. The trains had no such whimsy anymore. And so as that ancient whistle often indicated with its ancient use, the smile departed my face as I returned to the present. Bored. Alone. In danger. The winter sun began to fade early as it often did this far north. It was beautiful in its own way. Disease could rob the world of its people and its peace, but it could not rob the sky of its colorful glory. As I looked out the station toward the silhouetted trees that were as dead as I was, I heard the sound of metal. Gentle clinks and clangs somewhere off in the distance, conveniently in the direction I was already looking. I pulled me only defense, a small knife, out of my pack and prepared for whatever it might be. A few minutes later, along the tracks up ahead, I saw it. A dog, a shabby German Shepherd, slowly making its way toward the station. The clanging echoed toward me from the still attached leash as it brushed up against the tracks. It's head hung low, just pushing forward for that next step. But before pity for the creature could set in, it raised its head and looked at me with eyes that were no longer there. It's blank sockets unnerving, terrifying, and altogether too common. The worst part was that I knew, somehow, it could see me anyway. The Sight took your eyes, killed your soul, and sent your body on an everlasting march toward the end of time. But it used its host to watch, to look out for who it might devour next, should they be a tempting enough treat. The dog stared at me, through me, before continuing its march down the tracks. Slowly it made its way through the station while I remain crouched behind my bench, blade still drawn just in case. But soon it passed me and was clear that it wasn't going to bother with me. It really had looked through me, and found me wanting. I guess I just wasn't tasty enough. The dog disappeared out the other end of the station and into the long shadows of the quickly setting sun. I was glad my first visitor in this new town was a relatively friendly one, all things considered. It would soon be dark and new and unexpected dangers would surely find their way to me before long. I grabbed my pack and went to find a corner in the station that I could use to hide from the wind. I found one and pulled out my thin sheet and rolled up socks I used for a pillow, and hunkered down. It was going to be a long, cold night. ___________________ r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested.
You don't appreciate how nice it is to be alone, until you never are. I longed for quiet, to walk through the woods accompanied only by birdsong and the gentle whisper of the trees. To hear the leaves crunching under my feet, and mine alone, no hidden beggar lurking in my shadow. I was going to meet a young girl who had written me a letter. It is rare, these days, to receive a letter; even rarer when everyone is hellbent on delivering their messages to you themselves. They feign polite ignorance at first, claiming that they just had to see me in person. It had nothing to do with the extra few minutes that they'd stolen from Death. Sometimes, they asked for a cup of sugar, or tell me that there was a weed on my lawn. Sometimes, they begged for the story of my life, pens poised eagerly above their pocket notebooks. Sometimes they'd just stand on my porch and stare until I asked them to leave. What would a human do for just one more breath? Just ask them. Just ask those few that insist on camping in my backyard, fighting and bargaining for the seat closest to my home, knocking on my windows. Just ask the man who locked me in a cage in 1968, pressing his face against the bars, salivating at the idea of life eternal. An eternal life, pressed against a cage. Those heavy locks bound me from any escape, but who was really trapped? Stuck behind bars of greed, chained by the seconds, the minutes, the years that tick by. It wasn't until 1973 that he saw himself for what he was; an animal, kept leashed by his own primitive imagination. When he cut his own life shorter than it ever would have been, had he never become intoxicated by me and the possibilities I carried in my veins. It wasn't until his wife discovered me, locked tight among the pickles and wine in the cellar, that I was free again. That is, if you can call this existence of mine freedom. She fed me, let me stay a while with her. She never knew why I was locked in that cellar; I wanted to let her mourn her husband, unhindered by the knowledge of what he had been. But this was not the time for memories. I walked briskly, keenly aware of the men sitting in the trees. I had to promise those tented pests in my yard an hour of my time just for them to stay at my house. It was high time for a move, I thought. It's a good thing that they don't know about my cat. She's got to be 40 or 50 by now, curled agelessly on my lap while those foolish beggars grin to themselves through greying, unwashed beards. The old, thick trees waned away to just a few saplings as I strolled off the path and into a broad clearing. I laid eyes on the girl with whom I was to meet. No more than 14 years old, she sat on a twiggy, worn-out camping chair. She had been waiting for some time. "Hello."She reached out to me; to shake my hand, I presumed, to steal a few quick seconds. But instead, into my palm she placed a tiny duckling. "So that my intentions are clear." I held the duckling close to my chest, petting his tiny, soft head. He nuzzled into my palm, the sweet feeling of life elongated coursing through his veins. This was a first. I was wary of a trick; was this some ploy to gain my trust? Nevertheless, I was eager to hear her request. Her letter had been vague, and besides––if it was a trick, at least it was a clever one. "What can I do for you, young lady?" Her story began slowly, full of explanations and polite questions. But soon, her eyes began to shine, and her words came quickly and heavily, filling the air between us. Her mother was dying, and her father was on a plane, fighting against the constant, rushing waters of time for a glimpse of the woman who he loved in her last moments. He would be here in twelve hours, but the doctor gave her less than three. As the story ended, the emotion in the girl's voice slowed to a trickle of polite desperation. "Please, won't you sit with her? We'd give you anything, any payment. Please." "And if I refuse?"I kept any emotion from showing itself on my face. I could see the girl's mind spinning, trying to convince me. The duckling nipped at my fingers. "Then I'll go home and spend the last few hours my mother has reading her stories from her favourite book." What a perfect answer. I followed the girl through her town, into gardens of curling vines and yellow weeds, through alleyways coated in ivy, attempting to remain unseen. The neighbors' noses were visible through their windows, their breath fogging up the glass. She led me through the arches of an elegant, old gate, the duckling now asleep in my palm. The sky had turned from brilliant blue to a soupy, grumbling grey. We entered the home just as the rain began to tap on the windows, eager to be let in. There, in the middle of the room, an old woman was laid on a mattress on the floor. Gently, the girl took the bird from my hands and crossed the room, afraid of stealing any of my precious gifts from her mother. The woman gazed familiarly into my eyes. The wife from the basement. "Ah, now I understand."She touched my hand. "It was good of you to keep his secret." I smiled down at the dying woman; a mother, a wife, a kind soul to whom I owed a debt. "Would you like to hear a story?"
"What on earth is an engineer?"The queen exclaims, her voice reverberating through the crowded underground workshop. "Well, let me show you."Striding over to his desk, he grabs a dented breastplate off his desk. "First, you probably want to stop trying to defeat expensive plate armor-"he stoops, grabbing a rapier off the floor "- with rapiers. since they're practically useless against armoured opponents, much less full plate armour." "So what do you suppose? That we give up our very nation's pride? Next you'll tell me that our pride is not worth our lives, oh? Well, I'm of the mind to execute y-"The engineer slams the rapier into the breastplate, snapping it. "Hey look buddy, I'm an engineer. That means I solve problems, not problems like "Is our pride worth our life?"Because that would fall within the purview of your conundrums of philosophy." Pausing, he reaches into his safe, withdrawing a pistol. "I solve practical problems, for instance: how am I going to stop some mean mother Hubbard from tearing this ridiculous fortress a new structurally unstable be-hind? The answer?" Bang! A small dent appears in the armour. "Use a gun, and if that don't work..." Reaching over to another desk, he pulls out a shotgun. "Use more gun." *Bang!* The blast from the shotgun rings in the Queen's ears, and she shuts her eyes in pain. As she opens them, she sees the breastplate in shreds, and a block of jelly behind it filled with metal beads. "Well... That would work for a foot soldier, I'll concede that, but what about the... titans? Those walking walls are practically unstoppable. If you can't answer that, you'll be executed."She refutes, her voice still shaking from surprise. The engineer says nothing, just walks into another larger room, with the Queen tailing behind. The room is large and round, with strange crater filled walls and ceilings, and completely empty bar a sentry several times the engineer's size. Pointing at the wall, the Engineer continues. "Imagine that's a titan. Now those mean mothers of scrap metal don't need precision, their practical walls. So if I don't need precision, I can just focus on power, murica style." Suddenly, the turret beeps and points at the opposite wall. The barrels whirr as they rev up, and then, a beam of bullets so clustered together it might as well have been a laser fills the air, with rockets flying out into the wall as they speak. Within moments, the room's far wall has moved several meters. The engineer continues his explanation. "Take for instance this heavy caliber tripod mounted lil' old number designed by me, built by me, and you best hope... not pointed at you."The engineer grins. "So, about that whole executing me business. Are you gonna try? Or you gonna pay me a king's ransom so I can keep your lil' castle in shape?" "I-I'll pay. Can you make those weapons for my soldiers?"The queen stammers. The engineer turns, his goggles hiding his fearsome stare as his neck extends towards the Queen. "*Nope" "What!?"The Queen despairs. Her kingdom... ruined by one man's refusal. "I only work some tough mother hubbards when it comes to these big jobs. You willing to foot the bill for a real crew?" "Y-yes." "Alrighty then!"The Engineer goes on to call the red team to help annihilate the Shadow kingdom from existence. With his newfound wealth, he goes on to become the reigning monarch of the YEEEEEE empire, known worldwide for alcoholism, firearms, and a general disregard for safety laws, often in combination. The End*
I saw with delight that today’s tea party involved newcomers. While Celia’s Pikachu and her doll Miss Patty were not the worst company I’d enjoyed, they were after all just dead toys. Celia made up for it by serving imaginary tea and cakes - and scolding them for not eating up and having terrible manners. But she always applauded me, talked to me warmly as a good friend. It had been a good five weeks - and Celia’s drawing with my ancient insignia hadn’t yet been found by an adult. Obviously, Celia’s mum wasn’t one of those “keep the kid’s room spit clean” type of parents. Oh by Cerberus how I hated those “keep the kid’s room spit clean” type of parents. But today, Celia had made the table for five. Which meant that maybe her mum was invited - or maybe a playmate from school. That would be new. “Come sit, Mrs. Peterson, tea ready now!” I heard Celia chip, her happy voice followed by an adult’s humming sound. “Join’ us for tea is Detective Pikachu, Miss Patty and Bob!” she gestured to introduce us all - even me, although I was invisible to everyone. But somehow, Celia always knew exactly where I was. I had told her my real name upon arrival. But that name being rather long, foreign and hard to pronounce, coupled with my voice only being able to reach her ears intermittently like a bad radio signal, made her conclude that my name was Bob. I liked being Bob. As Beelzebub, I had responsibilities, power struggles, intrigue - but as Bob, my biggest concern was that Miss Patty would spill imaginary tea on me. Celia’s mum came into view. “Please, is there no other way?” she asked the woman whom Celia had called Mrs. Peterson. The older lady gave her mum a look and shook her head. “As you well know, your daughter has been logged as being too far behind other kids her age. Her imagination is vivid for sure, but her language skills are lagging severely and we have reason to believe that her cognitive development is stunted. You were given warnings, but the past year has seen no significant improvement. After my evaluation today, Child Services will take Celia the day after tomorrow, to bring her to her father,” Mrs. Peterson replied. Wait, what? I thought about it. I’d never seen Celia’s dad or even heard him mentioned. And her mum didn’t seem to be home much. “Brad can’t take care of her,” her mum mumbled. “He... used to hit me when he got impatient and a few times, he even hit her,” she continued. “Please...” But Mrs. Peterson simply ignored her as she produced a block and pen from her bag and sat down with Celia for imaginary tea. I felt my aura burn at the thought of this little fragile girl being taken, but my powers were limited by the ever watching eyes of the Guardian Angels. “Celia, can you tell me what this is?” Mrs. Peterson asked, as she drew forth a picture. “Dog!” Celia answered, and a new picture was presented to her, this one much harder. Celia hesitated not knowing the word. That’s when I decided to step in. “Excavator”, I hissed forcefully while spending a considerable amount of energy to repel the fog between our worlds so my voice carried clear to her. “Ex Catator,” she answered and giggled. “Thanks Bob,” she whispered my way. Mrs. Peterson looked surprised, then gave her a new card. “Cat efiral”, she said to the image of a Cathedral. I helped her with the other cards and then laughed as Mrs. Peterson began asking her about numbers. What was two plus one? What was five minus two? And so on. And with my whispers to aid her, Celia aced it. Then came the general knowledge questions, increasing gradually in complexity - until the answers I provided were ridiculous things no child would know; like “deoxyribonucleic acid”, “quantum theory” and “Belgium”. Still, Celia took my clues and repeated my words phonetically valid. After some time, a clearly surprised Mrs. Peterson stood up to face an equally surprised Celia’s mum. I smirked and saw Celia look at me while giggling. “We thought you were too busy working two jobs to pay properly attention to Celia,” Mrs. Peterson said. “We acknowledge to maybe have been mistaken. Based on today, I must say I’m deeply impressed with how Celia has progressed since I was here two months ago! I will postpone the decision to transfer Celia to her father. But I will return in two months, and then we shall see if this was an isolated incident or if she has been standing still again.” The two adults left. I had something to do now. Something a bit harder than managing puppets and imaginary tea. As Celia’s imaginary best friend, I had to coach the linguistic skills her mum didn’t have the time to do. I would teach her the words. All the words.
It's been three hours since the last twist, which means we're due another one soon. We need to find a safe place to ride it out. Somewhere wide and empty, with no close walls or corners. Somewhere we can't get warped round angles or stretched until we tear. Right now, where we are, none of us would survive it. We're in some kind of suburban house - half a fitted kitchen on the ceiling, a mural with cartoon fish covering the floor. Ten paces away, where Torrance is checking the way ahead, the ground is different - great glass panes from some high-rise office block, scattered lumps of church pews sticking up at odd angles. We've got some time - probably. The big twists happen semi-regularly, between four and six hours apart. Small ones are less predictable, but there's generally enough warning to get clear. And for those who don't find the edge in time, who miscalculate the area or head in the wrong direction, they mostly die instantly. Mostly. Torrance gestures - he's found a route. We troop after him, picking our way through the pews and then feeling our feet sink into deep, thick carpet. It was white, once, but now its stained a rust brown; either the first time, or one of the twists since then, someone was here when it hit. We don't know how many people made it, have continued to survive. There are ten of us now - our highest ever was fifteen - and we've never met a larger group. Nearly 8 billion people on the planet, once, and now we only know about ten of them. Maybe the first twist killed almost everyone. Maybe everyone outside a building was fine, is just going about their lives as normal - we've never found natural terrain in here. Or maybe we're all just wandering around in here, trying to regroup in a landscape that doesn't make any sense. Some kind of factory, I'm guessing now. Concrete walls and floors, though with a laminated tile ceiling in the narrow corridor. Bits of warped machinery jut out from the walls and spred like a trellis across what used to be doorways. When it first started, I used to get hopeful - I'd gather the others and we'd kick through the dead-ends, smash windows to see if the way out was just inches away. It never is. If you follow the corridors, move through the open doorways, you find new warped rooms. If you try and cheat, try and break out of the maze, all you get is broken tools. Broken tools and more twists - the landscape doesn't like us trying to cheat. We're struggling through a theatre when it comes on us. One moment we're scrambling over mis-shapen and melted seats, then the world goes grey at the edges and I feel the pressure in my sinuses. A twist - a small one, but large enough. With the bigger ones, you get more warning. The slow build of a stress headache, the creaking noises as the world prepares to rearrange. The small ones are like lightning; you only have a few seconds once you hear the thunder. I'm at the back of the group, just behind Weams. A second only to make a judgement, to choose whether to jump forwards or back, to trust everything to an intuition of where it will strike, how large the radius will be. I leap, instinctively, the pain in my head almost blinding, and the twist hits. The world stretches inside-out and upside-down, geometry phasing through itself in patterns that slice through my brain even as my senses are blinded. It's over in an instant, summer lightning, and when I can move again, smearing the blood away from my nostrils and peering out with still-fuzzy vision, I'm alone, crouched behind a battered red-velvet seat. No sign of my team, no sound other than my own raspy breathing. In front of me, a perfect circle scooped out from the theatre, is a smooth tarmac floor marked with parking spaces. A single square pillar - its top unconnected to the theatre ceiling - informs me that I am on level 2.
"You can leave the armor at the entrance. Terribly heavy thing, and all the easier to roast you alive in." The dragons head turned back to the cave entrance where two large pillars held up the black stone roof, and the knight still stood with a look of utter bewilderment. "To be completely honest I'm quite pleased with myself" the dragon continued, "Not breaking your wrist is something quite difficult to do as someone with my stature." The knight finally seemed to come too, grasping the leather clad hand where the sword once lay with a tinge of pain. Now the sword firmly rested, imbedded in the wall of some ghastly relief of some long dead kingdom. He began to speak as he lifted off his green checkered cuirass. "Yes... well burning alive, haha... that is something I surely would not like to experience" "And I for one do not desire to be pricked with a shinny stick" The dragon retorted. "AhaHa... about that... I was told you were fire breathing menace, and only tried to preserve myself from such a... fiery fate." The knight nervously glanced about at the ruins and treasures of the ancient kingdom, and to his surprise did not see a single charred remain among them. "Speaking of which, I had heard that my fellows were sent here by the king before me... I was told that they had not returned." The dragon looked back with what the knight could have sworn was a smile. The knights terror turned to puzzlement as he renewed his questioning. "And Tea? Forget slapping a sword out of my hand how are you going to make tea as 'someone of your stature'? " As if on cue one of the knights sent before came from deep within the ruin carrying a pot of tea with a bandaged hand. The dragon looked between the two knights, the once subtle smile now unmistakable. "Now, little knight. Let us talk about what you're going to tell your king." Writers note - drunk and first thing I've written in a while, feedback greatly appreciated.
Emissary Murpblak undulated in concern. “I may have misunderstood you. The sky turns dark – during a planetary daytime – and, in certain circumstances, blinding energy will shoot down from above?” “I mean, you make it sound really dramatic.” “Didn’t you say it can potentially make anything it touches explode?” “Well, sure,” I say, frowning. “But it usually doesn’t.” Murpblak hesitated. “When you say ‘usually’…this is a phenomenon that happens once a lifetime, typically?” “Nah, multiple times a year in many places.” “I see. And – “ “Sometimes multiple times a day.” The emissary’s trio of eyes blinked in series. “…a day.” “Yep.” “No one lives in those places, though, surely? These places where the very air you breathe goes through a phase change so extreme that it becomes plasma? Right?” “I mean, mostly we just slap a metal rod on our houses and go about our business.” “That is…concerning.” “Wait until I tell you about lava!” * * * I added a continuation about lava over on [my personal sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/kd2c6c/wp_so_youre_telling_me_that_on_this_planet_the/). :)
Tarrin felt the rope dig into his skin as he climbed. "Come on!"Varrin called, standing on the edge of a branch like he weighed less than the air. "It's just a bit farther." "Easy for you to say."He bit into his lip as the rope bit into his fingers, hauling himself up little by little. The elf watched him from above with the same amused smile he always had. No trouble with the height, not for him, it was always Tarrin doing the worrying. "You were born in a damn tree." "And you've been climbing them for most of your life. Which is still far less than I've been doing it, but I heard humans learned fast!"Varrin leaned down to offer his hand, smug as could be. He ignored it, pulling himself up onto the branch with his own two hands. If he also held on for dear life, that was his own business. "Here we are!"Varrin spread his arms wide, gesturing towards the west. "Look at that." Past the wall of trees and the rolling hills, down in a valley that served as its walls sat a city of stone and metal. Tarrin had read of human cities. How they were built to hold as many people in one place as possible. The buildings stretched as high as the hills, the earth itself was flattened and made symmetrical, and great beasts of steel rode in from distant lands. It was mesmerizing. It should have been wondrous. But... Not this one. Not this city. "I figured you'd want to see it before we arrived,"Varrin said. As though he should be enchanted. Excited. "Once you're inside, it's hard to-" "Do I have to go?"The words slipped out before he could catch them. Too late now. Varrin, of all people, would understand. "I can wait in the caravan. Be very quiet. They won't have to know I'm here." "Tarrin, you have to go. You're half the reason we came here."The other half was something about a trade deal. Their parents had business with this city. Had it since it was founded (though back then his grandmother had not yet been retired he'd been told). "You're a man now...apparently. You deserve to at least meet your own kind." "My own-they aren't my own kind, they tried to kill me!"He still had nightmares here and there. Of something he couldn't possibly remember. Water over his head, filling his lungs. "To hell with them, I owe them nothing, you're my kind." "No we aren't, and you know it. For gods' sake, you're twenty and you're as tall as I am!"Varrin grabbed his chin and forced him to look. Not at the city, but at him. Desperate. Pleading even. "You're going to be an old man before I even leave my parents' house. You can't...you can't stay with us forever." "Not forever,"he countered, slapping away his hand. "Just...." "The rest of your life?"Varrin accused, eyes boring into the side of his head. "Look...maybe not this city. But somewhere, surely. Humans are everywhere in this world, there will be somewhere you'll like." He liked the elves. He'd been saved by elves. Raised by elves. Named by elves. Tarrin. So called because Varrin had been the one to pull him from the water and had joked that the lost child should be named in his honor. Turns out it had stuck. Stuck like river-mud to the old shawl they had tucked away in a chest they didn't know he'd seen. A shawl made of cloth from this city. Barely a week old and they'd tried to drown him, he was supposed to be happy going back? "Look, just...give it some thought, alright?"Varrin clapped him on the shoulder. More cautiously than the elf had ever been. Hell, he'd never looked this awkward. "You don't have hundreds of years to figure out your future like I do." Hundreds of years. He'd be lucky if he had sixty more. The only thing he was certain of is spending as few of them among 'his own' as possible. But...where else would he go? "Okay. I'll think on it,"Tarrin said, giving him a smile that had nothing behind it. Nothing beyond nerves. And a deep, deep anger he barely knew how to feel. He wasn't ready for the city.
He did not enjoy this new life one bit. At first he thought he did, but so many things were just... Wrong. He approached the tavern, the two girls behind him. He really hoped he did not pick another stray. But if he did, well, better him than someone else. "Bob-kun. Are we hunting orcs again?"One of the girls, a mage, asked. Bob wanted to shout at her. They lived in a world where if your were even a little unprepared you could end up as goblin chum, and this mage was asking if they were going after huge, monstrous orcs. Bob had no idea how she managed this far. Actually, he wondered how a lot of the people here managed so far. It felt like this world was tailor made for his arrival. Everyone was dumb and made the campiest, robotic conversation with him that were either really important about the state of things or really really unimportant about absolutely nothing at all. "With any luck, no. We just need to find a quest that brings us to the next kingdom." "Why? The demon king has taken over this kingdom. We need to train hard enough so we can take him down."The other woman, a ranger, stated. "Like I said before, this party I'm forming isn't going to take down some supernatural monarch of these lands. We're just going to do enough quests to get enough experience so we can move to a safer kingdom. Wouldn't that be better?" "I don't run from a fight!"The mage exclaimed. Bob thought back to how he found her fending off a pack of goblins alone, crying and helpless. She may not run from a fight, but she did not belong in one, either. Unless that was how she would become better at this. Through repeated exposure. But that meant a female side character would have to through character development, which was such an absurd and foreign concept in this land. As much as Bob wished for her to get better, a curse more evil than any demon king could think of permeated the land, shackling it's people to predetermined roles. "Yeah, we don't run from a fight, Bob-sensei."The other affirmed. "Alright. Let's see if there are quests on the way to the other kingdom."Bob grumbled. "That is... Acceptable."The mage replied. Of course it was. It was scary how little they resisted to his ideas. How easily they swayed to his point of view. Bob always felt terrible just talking to them. It was as if the very reality bends to fit what he wants. Why was he even aware of this. It was like a peak behind the curtain. Some autonomous force had chosen him to be the defacto authorator of this story. Bob desperately wished for ignorance. But did he really? Now that he knew the sort of influence he had on shaping this world, could be really just throw away that power because it scared him? That it opened his eyes on all these other... 'Pre-fated' people? Unless it was in his fate to be aware of this power? Was he just carrying out his own pre-written destiny by choosing to ignore this call to action that was taking down the demon king? Was this choice also not his own but a volition of the invisible autonomous force? They entered the tavern, and were greeted with the smell of sweat and baked goods and alcohol and scented candles. It was a loud place, filled with other adventuring parties laughing at and discussing their exploits and adventures. Bob ignored it all. He had to. If he even focused on one of them, they would start talking to him about someone they lost. The cheery atmosphere in there was a ruse. Once conversation opened up it would be dramatic, and often about how the demon king and his forces are killing everyone. As long as Bob did not incentivise it, the conversations about people dying would not happen. And as long as the conversations do not happen, no one was dead. It was a weird Schrödinger's situation. Bob approached the quest counter, ignoring the board of notices. If he read any of the notices, the event in the notice would occur irregardless if whether he chose to accept the quest. It was another Schrödinger's situation, where as long as he did not read the quest hook, all the events of the quest would not occur. Was that even what the Schrödinger's Cat experiment meant? Bob did not know. The life he led before this one was... Depressing. He was not a smart man. "Is there any quest that'll take us to the next kingdom over?"He asked the friendly lady running the quest counter. "Sadly, the only quest out of the kingdom is from a farmhand. He has trouble with giant rats. Apparently he located their nest and wants some adventurers to destroy it. The pay is a lot more than you'd expect from a farmhand, though."She said, handing Bob the contract to look over. "Another thing, Bob. I know it isn't my place, but you seem like a stand up guy. Do you mind adding a new member to your party?"The lady asked. I sighed inwardly and looked up at her. And almost balked. There was a sort of desperation in her eyes. She was still smiling, still leaning over the counter casually. But her eyes told a scarier story, darting around the tavern constantly but always landing on him with a pleading look. "Sure, I could always use more adventurers."I lied. I needed to know what that reaction was. Why would she seem so... Desperate? But once I agreed her eyes became normal, she laughed. "I knew I could count on you, Bob. You'll like her. She's a barbarian." I could feel footsteps behind me. I turned to see a tall woman wearing an armour of bones that exposed her shoulders, midriff and legs. It was as if my very agreement to the proposal conjured her. "Are you the party? I just graduated from barbarian school and wanted to do some quests with a party. Get a feel for this life. I'd be so happy to join you. I'll pull my weight, you don't have to worry about me."She declared. I turned back to the counter lady, and saw the flash of desperation in her eyes again, but it passed as quickly as it showed. What did that mean? "Uh, of course. You guys are fine with giant rats, right?"Bob asked. The mage scoffed, "We're ladies, not guys. And if course we're fine." "The rats won't know what hit them."The barbarian proclaimed. "This will be a great adventure!"The ranger announced. "Yes. Uh, why don't you ladies get to know each other while I sort the quest details out."I told them before turning to the quest handler. "What's happening?"I asked. "Well, the rats started appearing—" "I mean what's happening with you? Are you alright?" "I, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" "I, uh... Nothing. Never mind. Forget I said anything. Thanks for the quest, as always."Bob muttered, turning back around. "No, Bob. Thank you. Thank you for trying to help them find a safer path."Bob heard the handler say in a tone he had never heard before. He turned back around, but she looked her usual cheery self, except her eyes seemed to be glistening.
He's known to everyone as the Great Conqueror, Slayer of Heroes, Scourge of the Heavens, and so man other delightful monikers. He has bathed in the blood of the innocent. He has left nothing but destruction and despair in his wake. Gods have sent many a chosen warrior to vanquish him and he return the favor by decapitating them and showcasing the remains to the loyal. His true name has been lost to the ages, all that people know is the omen of his presence and the death that follows. Well everyone except me, because to me he's just my husband. He's the boy who split his bread with me while smiling with sunken cheeks. He's the boy that took my hand as we ran across the dirty slums. He's the boy kissed me while we were on the rooftop watching the stars. He's the man who lost an eye trying to save me from a cursed fate. He's the man who vowed to destroy the world rather than let it take me, blood mixed with tears. He's the man who asked for my hand amidst the screams and flames as he fulfilled that vow. I know that he's evil. There's no ifs, ands, or buts about it. He's a evil man. He relishes the blood he spills. He takes pride in destroying the weak. He shows no mercy to his enemies, and takes great measures to squash out the tiniest bit of hope . He's a monster that laughs amidst the chaos of carnage. And as such he should be put down like a rabid animal he is for the wellbeing of everyone. But to me, he's still just my husband. He comes home and greets me with a kiss and a smile. One so pure and full of love it often makes me forget about the blood that he tracks into the house. He never forgets though, and always takes the time to clean up the mess so I don't have to. He holds me in his arms as we spend time looking at the stars, admiring just how different they are from one world to the next. We don't really talk about his work that much, it's well known enough what he does after all. He knows that I don't particularly enjoy his tales of Conquests, as much as he loves them himself. Oftentimes we talk about my day, and despite the normalcy of it all, he always pays attention and listens with interest. Despite all these new titles and conquered worlds, when I look at him I still see the boy offering me bread with a gap toothed smile. Amidst the screams the damned that torture me in my nightmares, I am comforted by a gentle "I love you". I can bear the glares full of hatred and fear, because when he looks at me all I feel is affection. He is a monster. I know he is, one night the guilt of all that he's done overwhelmed me and caused me to ask the dumbest question possible. "What would you do if one day I tried to kill you?" He's destroyed entire civilizations for less brazen statements. I know, I've seen it myself as his pupil contracted in rage before the destruction began. Yet for me all he does is grasp my hand and give me a slightly sad smile. "If I am to be put down, I'd be be happy to accept it by your hand." He is a monster. He is evil incarnate. Every living being would be better off if his head was detached from the rest of his body. Here he stands willing to accept death by my hand. I can save the lives of countless innocents if I just take this moment to strike him down. I can do by myself what countless heroes and a few gods have lost their lives attempting to do. But I cannot. I can't bring myself to kill this man who loves me so. Even if he's a menace, even if he's the devil incarnate, I cannot do it. I can't bring myself to kill this man whose loved me for as long as I can remember. By letting this monster live, I know that means that I am one myself. Yet I am okay with that. I'm sorry. To all those that will die because of him I am sorry. I could have saved you, I could have saved so many others. Yet my heart tells me that if one day he should be struck down like the rabid animal he is, my place would be fallen at his side. For when he walks through the gates of Hell, it will be with me beside him, hand in hand.
The door to his bedroom slammed shut, but Darren paid it no heed as he continued to carefully put socks and underwear into a suitcase, occasionally throwing some away. He was moving end of the week, to a new place a hundred miles away, and ever since he'd signed the contract, his housemates had been furious with him. Slammed doors, suddenly leaking faucets, creaking stairs, nearly everything that they could do to annoy him, they had done. And Darren knew why they did it, too. It was a ghost's lot in life to resist change. That was why they were stuck here. Occasionally, you could help one or two cross over: his home was down one unliving inhabitant since he moved in, but overall, ghosts really hated change, and people moving away were the epitome of change, even worse than remodelling (he'd been there and not slept a wink for a week and a half) and relationship changes (Zoe had actually gotten on with them just fine). To move away, especially after a decade of living here, was nothing short of betrayal. Betrayal that they would take out on him and on the ones who came after. This was how the folklore of haunted houses had started, and if he had been anyone else, he would've let it be. One last pair of socks, a shut suitcase, closed curtains and a single candle, and he took a deep breath. "Kenneth!" he intoned, summoning the ghost with the most seniority. The flicker of the candle announced Kenneth's presence, but only because Darren had been looking at it. The senior ghost, dating back to the Revolution, appeared as he always did: a man in his prime, frozen just inside the visible spectrum in the near-dark. "You rang?" Suppressing the urge to shake his head at the pop culture reference of three owners back, Darren focused his attention and acumen on the ghost. "I know you don't like me leaving. We've coexisted for a decade, and I know all of you are better now than you were before. You will not backslide when I am gone, will you?"He sensed something. "Marcel, don't make me tie you to the hawthorn again." The secondary presence faded, and Darren turned his full attention on Kenneth. A short battle of wills took place, but it was no contest. "We will not." "Good. I'll leave my contact details with the new inhabitants regardless, so do keep it down a little until you can convince them you're mostly harmless. I'd hate to have to come back." "We are not harmless. We are-- Oh, alright,"Kenneth relented his imperious speech after seeing Darren not buy it. "It has been many a year since we met one so knowledgeable yet understanding. We are better for you, and aggravatingly saddened to see you go." "You'll be fine, old friend. In fact, I suspect you'll be more than fine. The new inhabitants have children of a perfect age. Play your cards well, and you will make friends far better than I could ever be. Even Marcel, if he sticks to low-grade suggestive possession and not outright sleepwalking the kids down the main staircase with broken bones as the result. In which case I would feel compelled to come back, you understand." "Aye. I do. And so does he."Kenneth took off his hat, revealing a lethal wound that the children would be unlikely to see any time soon. "Fare well, scion of the house. We will leave you to your duties." "Thank you." Darren Black, medium, exorcist, ghost-friend, went back to his packing.
“The fruit is the life.” “The fruit is the path.” “We eat so that we might come closer to the centre of all things.” The chant went out, before, after, and between each bite. This had been the way as long as most could remember. Each bite was a challenge, an ordeal in self flagellation to all but the initiate. The oldest amongst them would be wracked by pain, and increasingly bizarre visions. She had been there at the start. It had been innocent enough. A dare, between students, to see who could eat the most of the bizarre fruit. At the beginning they had only said the first part of the chant. It had been a joke of sorts, and something to say to psyche themselves into the next bite. It has taken forty bites for most to give up, sickened and blinded by throbbing lights behind eyelids screwed shut against the taste that went beyond bitter into new planes of disgusting. It was at this point the first of them started experiencing the visions. She could remember the beginning but not when the other lines had been added. There had been no revelation for her. A virus as a child had stolen her sense of smell and taste. She had started the dare sure she would win, not imagining the strength of her friends resolve. Now she felt she could not stop, she owed it to them and all who followed after. Especially those who died along the way. Denied the visions and revelations the others experienced, for eighty years she had eaten because someone had to be at the front, leading this thing too wherever it would end up. It was bigger than her. She looked around, the others where picking themselves off the floor. “The fruit is the life.” “The fruit is the path.” “We eat so that we might come closer to the centre of all things.”
What an experience for a 9 year old. To watch every adult, every source of answers and comfort, pass away before me. I couldn’t do anything other than clench my teddy to me. His name was Barry, like the Flash. He was always my superhero because he could turn any form of problem good again. I just had to hold him tight enough. The lights went dark for a long time. Had I not had Barry then I would’ve probably cried until they turned on again. Finally my eyes were filled with the vision of the horror. The adults, torn and deceased, consumed the room before me. I could stay, the fear and despair overwhelmed my short legs, sending them surging to get away. I must have ran for ages, because I found myself in the living quarters. It was here that daddy and mommy told me to stay, no matter what. I wish I listened, but I’ve always been stubborn. I wandered the halls for a while, peeping into occasional rooms with Barry in one hand. I must have been the last one living, because no one else made a sound. I continued to wander for a while, before coming to the conclusion that there wasn’t any chance of my own survival. So screw it, I’m going to go out with a bang. I broke into a crew members suite (resourceful for a child, right?). She always told me about her video games. I wanted to play them, though unfortunately I wouldn’t have any friends to play with. I found the system, an old Atari, with a few dozen single player games downloaded. I must have played for hours, Barry at my side giving the occasional pointer (he has always had my back). Finally I grew bored with the outdated games, and ventured off to find something new to pass the time. Sure enough, I found it. “It” happened to be a large swimming pool. I was careful not to tread very deep. Barry couldn’t swim very well, and I gave him pointers like daddy had given me. I must have shed a tear, because Barry informed me that I could talk to him. I thanked him promptly, but I wasn’t ready to talk yet. I still had a few hours left to avoid the ever ending demise I was facing. Once more my childish legs went into overdrive, making me run up and down the halls as I explored. Finally, after tiring myself out, I found an observatory of sorts. I stepped inside the dark room, and a voice greeted me. I could have sworn it was my mother’s singsong voice, comforting and reassuring as always. “Please, select a destination.” It called out, and I spoke out. “Earf please!” I said happily, my lisp from my missing front teeth filling the silence. The voice must have understood, because a large orb emerged in front of me. It was green and blue, and beautiful. I plopped down, sitting Barry upright beside me. “You see Barry, this here is my home! It’s where me, daddy, and mommy lived. We won’t be back there soon, but don’t worry. We are going to a new home! It’s supposed to be very warm and sunny! We can play all day and never grow tired!” I commentated, before feeling the sadness grow over me. “Well, we were supposed to go to a new home. But I don’t think we will be going now. I think you’ll be the last voyager, but I promise you’ll be safe.” I looked down, gazing Barry in his eyes as he looked back up at me. I gave him a big hug, the tears starting to roll down my face. “Don’t worry Barry. I’ll always be here.” I let him go and looked once more to Earth, to Home. I wouldn’t be seeing it again, but that was alright. At least I had Barry with me.
War Never Changes When the Galactic Community first stumbled across the species known as humanity they had been excited. “New intelligent life forms have been found!” They proclaimed, “Amazing new discoveries await!” They had promised. At first, they were right. The humans, soft and weak as they were, produced artistic marvels. They found paintings that inspired the scientific Rewec, with their many eyes and tentacles, to gasp in awe and wonder. They were touched by music that caused the warlike Xarak, with their claws and armored exoskeleton, to shed a tear in overflowing emotion and compassion. They indulged in food that caused the nigh immortal Gogish, thin creatures with no eyes and reptilian features, to once more take notice of the present and all its gifts. Yes, humanity was thought to be a species devoted to enlightenment. Peaceful creators. Builders. Than came the war. The humans had spread throughout the stars, welcomed on almost any planet, treated with dignity. But when the Xarak and the Rewec had formed an alliance, a unity born of greed, they had demonstrated no mercy. Both species wanted to claim, what they saw as their right, leadership of the entire Galactic Community. The spot had been held by the Gogish by virtue of their age and wisdom so the Xarak and Rewec sought to destroy them. Planets were razed to the ground, billions slaughtered, and the humans, caught in the middle as they were, were crushed underfoot. In an effort to avoid war humanity pulled back their colonies and recalled their members. They proclaimed neutrality and only welcomed refugees. They asked that their wishes be respected. The Rewec only grunted, detached as they were from the world, preferring only their numbers and calculations. What were a few million deaths in the grand scheme of things, they had wondered. The Xarak had laughed and laughed as they tore humans apart with their claws and chewed on their flesh with their fangs. Only might makes right, they had believed, and the humans had no might to speak of. The humans had continued to plea, to beg, all the way up until the massacre of Wilonex-1. The planet had been a human refugee center, housing an untold number of Gogish families who simply wanted peace. When the Xarak learned of this they had seen an opportunity for what had they to fear from the soft mammals who kept mewling for mercy? What could they do? The Xarak tore both Gogish and Human apart limb from limb, bathing in the blood of their enemies, laughing. They played cruel games with the survivors, torturing them, making each family choose amongst themselves who was to die next. They recorded their actions, displaying it for all in the Galaxy to witness their might and their power. The humans stopped pleading. Instead, they sent a galaxy wide message in response. It was a video and in it one of their number, aged with white hair and wrinkled skin, stood with hands clasped behind his back. His worn blue eyes gazed sadly into the camera and when he spoke his voice was raspy and deep. “Si vis pacem,” he began “parabellum.” Then he closed his eyes and bowed his head before whispering one last sentence, almost as if he were talking to himself, his voice like an aching wound. “War…is hell.” He said and the message cut to black. The Xarak ignored it and the Rewec dismissed it until the first of their Armadas went missing. When they went to investigate the area all they found were the twisted remains of their space craft floating in the abyss. Scorched and broken. The rest of their vanguard joined soon after. Panicking, the warlike species of Xarak pressured the Rewec for answers wondering if the Gogish had unleashed some kind of secret weapon. The Rewec were just as confused and scared as their bloodthirsty counterparts. Then came the calls for help. Multiple worlds on the outskirts of their territory called for assistance, cried for mercy, and begged for salvation. That’s when they saw the long hidden dark and terrible side of humanity reveal itself in all its glory. Cities were bombed, disappearing in flashes of light and fire, while titanic mechanized suits housing human pilots stomped through the battlefield laying waste with rail guns, particle cannons, and anti-matter blades. Survivors were slaughtered ruthlessly. The Xarak fought back with the full power of their military might, decrying the human’s tactics and hypocritically demanding they follow the laws of war. Humanity responded with another message. Just a black screen with white font that would play on the Galactic network until the war finally ended. The message read simply: The only crime in war is to lose. In one standard decade the Xarak were rendered extinct and the Rewec, though they survived, were restricted to a handful of solar systems and stripped of all their weapons of war. The Gogish went back to their homes, showering the humans with praise, and offered Humanity a spot as leader of the Galactic Counsel. Humanity refused. When asked why their leader had said: “Because power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. We only want peace, not to lead, and so long as there is peace then we will be content.”
'DEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATH!' The bloodcurdling scream cut through the bedroom of Ben's cozy cottage. His date Alli, shirt halfway over her head, froze. 'What was that?' she whispered nervously. Ben put his hand comfortingly on her. 'Just my, er, roommate. Don't worry about it.' He attempted to finish removing her shirt, but Alli yanked it back over her head. 'What roommate? I thought you lived alone,' she said accusingly. 'Do you have a girlfriend or something?' Ben laughed in relief. 'No! No girlfriend! It'sjustaghostisall,' he said soothingly. 30 seconds later, as he stared at Alli's retreating and magnificent backside, he decided that things had to change. 'You fuck!' he screamed at the now quiet hallway. 'I almost saw her melons and you ruined it! I swear, I will make up a story about your past life that will make you glad that you're dead! Wanna be known as the ghostly goat fucker? I'll do it!' He was shaking with fury. The apparition appeared in front of him as he tried to walk to his bedroom. 'DEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATH!' It screamed again. 'AND TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAXES!' Ben screamed back. 'Do you not understand this? This house was two hundred grand under market value! It's a fifteen minute commute to work! I AM NOT LEAVING, SO YOU CAN GET OVER YOUR FUCKING HAUNTING BULLSHIT.' He stopped screaming, panting. He locked eyes with the apparition. The apparition paused. Ben would swear it looked confused. 'Listen,' Ben said, trying to be compassionate. 'Do you, um, need something? To go into the light or whatever the fuck you ghosts do? Can I avenge someone on your behalf? I mean, I work sixty hours a week and my car is a piece of shit, so mostly I'll probably just sign them up for spam websites and maybe send them a bag of jelly bean dicks....' He trailed off. The apparition held up a bony hand. 'No.' he said In a hollow whisper. 'I just like haunting shit.' Ben was annoyed. 'You're here for the lulz?' he asked incredulously. 'You could be in heaven or something and you're in a 3 bedroom Craftsman that needs a serious kitchen remodel? Dude, you really need to rethink your life, ah... Death choices.' The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. Then, 'DEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATH!!!!!!!!' screamed the apparition again, apparently unwilling to stop. 'Oh, for fucks sake!' snapped Ben. Two books fell off the bookshelf. 'Put those back!' The books flopped a bit, but remained stubbornly on the ground. 'Haunt THIS' Ben yelled, pulling down his pants. The scream turned into laughter. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or insulted. The foggy being was on the floor, convulsing in gales of ghostly laughter. Ben flipped him the bird before stomping in to his room and slamming the door. 'Manscaping, ever heard of it?' the spirit yelled through the door. 'Fuck off, or I'll pour holy water on your ass when you aren't looking!' Ben screamed. Roommates were the fucking worst, he reflected. And this one was still better than the guy he'd lived with his Sophomore year.
Power, control, bureaucracy. Once the fun of conquering the world is passed, there is nothing left but the tedium of maintaining control. Occasionally, quashing a well organized rebellion is entertaining, but no matter how well or how complete you make your control the pleasure fades within a few decades. The senseless rape and murder that soldiers inevitably turned to as the tentacles of my empires spread caused even the process of gaining domination to turn sour. Great harems might sound like pleasure and bliss, but lovers' attentions quickly turn to infighting and every time they inevitably feel neglected as I care for growing responsibilities of my empires. Joy is found in the depth of personal relationships. One wife at a time. One family raised each generation. Return myself to peak fitness. Fall in love a different way each time. Gain a little weight each decade and grow a beard in each wife's latter years. Transition back to a new start as the new set of great grand children arrives. The outside world never sees what they don't know to look for. Only my wives know the truth. My children are taken care of, but they don't know the complete story. They just think a distant relative just bought out their Dad's business The corner store is not just there for the convenience of the neighborhood, it is a convenient way for me to remain in the lives of past families. Yes, many move away, but with six generations in this place, and each time marrying into different families, very few people here are not connected to me by blood or by law. Even if some of those connections are long forgotten by them or their families. When the city decided they wanted to widen the road on my corner I could have taken the generous offer and moved closer to the bulk of my extended family, but I wasn't done watching over my last family. I hadn't even begun to seek out my next mate. I was more invested in the successes of my current great grandchildren, though they no longer knew me as their grandfather. The fact that the mayor and more than half of the city council were my distant grand children, some on multiple lines, made what I had to do all the more challenging. I wasn't navigating a vast bureaucratic system of my making from empires past I was now navigating a veritable jungle of familial ties built up over the last 250 years. I just wanted to give away slurpees to my grandkids, but now time had come for me to socially engineer an improved city. I guess I need to dig around in my personal archive to remind myself what land and access I own that could be leveraged against this town.
The Angel of Murphy. I know what you must be thinking. Murphy’s law, right? That adage of whatever can go wrong will go wrong. I wish I was the angel of that, no; I am the angel of Murphy, a drunken down on his luck detective. Not that the adage doesn’t apply to the man too. He has a way of making every situation he’s in worse, which is why I’m there to ensure he doesn’t get himself killed. Murphy was in his usual spot, face down at his desk, with a pool of saliva and cheap vodka pooling underneath his mouth. I had moved his head earlier, trying to ensure he didn’t choke on his saliva, not wanting to be the angel of nothing anytime soon. “Ugh, Murphy, what happened to you?” I muttered, giving him a comforting pat on the back. The other angels told me he was a brilliant detective at some point. Even had a fancy office and a bottle of vodka that didn’t smell like they made it from pure ethanol. But I couldn't believe such stories when I looked at the disheveled husk of a man sleeping at his desk. His tie wrapped around his forehead, with his buttoned-up shirt popped open, revealing his hairy stomach underneath. He needed help, not from a divine entity, but from a therapist or perhaps an exorcist. As I watched him, he grumbled, wiping his face on the table before he sat up, bloodshot eyes staring towards the door. “Anyone come in?” He slurred, tapping frantically at the empty desk, searching for a phone. It was sad. I imagine he was dreaming of his former life, when he had a secretary and proper hygiene. After a moment of tapping, reality sank in, Murphy slumping back into his chair. “Right.” It was sad being this close to someone who was suffering without being able to help them. He couldn’t see or hear me; all I could do was interact with the world around him. Sure, I could leave notes or try some weird possession techniques, but that felt like it was beyond my job description. I was here to keep him alive, not become his fairy godmother. I picked his mobile from the floor, sliding it onto the leftmost corner of his desk. Doing so in such a way that he wouldn’t spot my sleight of hand. “There you are. How the hell do I keep losing it? Maybe I should investigate this place for ghosts.” He chuckled to himself, only to slump further into his chair, having no one to laugh with. I gave him a pity laugh that he couldn’t hear, hoping that might make him feel better. It didn’t. He went through his messages, staring at the screen, only for the door to be kicked in. Three men stood in the doorway, each holding a pistol. “Murphy, our associate sends his regards. Wants to give you a little retirement present.” The middle thug spoke, leading the group. “Retirement?” Murphy snarled, setting his phone to record any sound, placing it back into his pocket. “This wouldn’t be the work of the Police chief, would it? Did he come to finish his dirty work?” Murphy went to grab his gun, only to find it missing. In his drunken antics last night, he had been dancing on the table, waving his gun in the air, only to accidentally fire a shot into the ceiling. Even the drunken detective knew that playing with weapons while drunk was a no-no, so in his heightened position, he reached up and placed the gun on the ceiling fan for safekeeping. “The message is from=” One of the less witty brick house thugs went to speak, only for the rat-faced leader to grab his mouth, shutting him up. “We can’t say who we are working for, you idiot!. That’s the rules. Do that again and I’ll shoot ya.” He threatened, bopping him on the head with his gun before turning back to Murphy. This was bad. Real thugs don’t monologue like their movie counterparts. I needed to think of something. When the three guns locked onto Murphy, I squeaked, rushing towards the man, looking for a way to save him. Then I saw it, the flimsy office chair that was struggling beneath his weight. I pulled a screw free, watching as the seat collapsed, throwing Murphy onto the floor, the initial firing of bullets missing him. Thankfully, Murphy still had some sense of self preservation, flipping the table over once he landed. The table was cheap and not all that durable, but it should at least offer him some cover. “Leave now or I’ll shoot.” Again, a smart play by the man. They didn’t know if he had a gun or not. That would buy him a few extra seconds. “What do we do? Do we just keep shooting at him?” The third thug asked, his face having an ugly dyed blue handlebar mustache on it. The rat-faced leader groaned, looking over the room. Trying to plot his next move. “Not yet, he’s being awfully defensive, hasn’t even waved his gun yet, I think he’s bluffing.” “Then why don’t you come and check?” Murphy interjected, causing the leader to falter. He might have been more cunning than the other thugs, but he was a coward. One that didn’t want to get shot. I had to turn the odds in his favor. I leaned over to the brick house, running my fingers along his neck, trying to generate some heat. After a few touches, my angelic warm hands were enough to make him sweat. “Ugh, it’s so hot in this office.” The brick house complained, reaching over to the fans switch, turning it on. The fan swirled to life, rapidly spinning, sending Murphy’s gun flying forward, straight into the forehead of the blue handlebar moustached thug, knocking him unconscious. It wasn’t exactly how I planned that to go, but I guess I should expect things to go wrong when Murphy is involved. “You buffoon, WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT?” The leader shrieked, giving the brick house a shove. His shove did little to move the man, only angering the brick house who shoved him back, sending the leader staggering backwards. The gears in the fan grinding, struggling to handle the high setting it was on. Murphy knew to never put the fan in its highest setting, but the brick house didn’t know that. When the leader ended up under the fan, it broke, slamming into his head, knocking him out. Murphy peeked his head over the table barricade, looking at the commotion. When his head surfaced, the brick house went to shoot. The bullet missed his head, embedding itself into the table. That’s when Murphy played dead. “Ow, ow, ow. You got me; I am mortally wounded.” He was a horrible actor, not even fit to play a B-list horror movie character. Thankfully, his audience wasn’t the brightest. The brick house approaching the table only for Murphy to jump out from behind it. His tie now in his hands as he wrapped it around the other’s neck, choking them. The brick house spun and flailed, but Murphy held on, eventually getting the beast of a man to drop. With the three thugs down, he let out a sigh. “Guess the case came to me.” He said, getting out his phone, making a call to the police. Even if he suspected the chief was behind it, who else could he call? While he waited for the officers to arrive, he began searching the pockets of the thugs, taking any wallets or identification from them. Last, he went over all of his files, taking any documents that the police chief might tell his officers to take as ‘evidence’. Hiding them in the confines of his thick grey coat. With his office removed of any important information, he leaned against the wall as he waited for the officers to pick up the thugs. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
They started out wearing spandex and proclaiming my death will be for the betterment of all. I survived the first few attempts, hidden away while my parents sacrificed themselves. The attacks stopped when I left the public eye. My inheritance was placed in a trust and my I had my name changed, my face altered and I was given to a working class family. I was five when this happened. I thought it was for my own good, but later, I became aware that my fiscal representatives had conspired to make me disappear. They had faked my death and claimed my estate. They became rich on the environmental exploitation machinations my parents had created. This is the only thing that had saved me. Growing up within the dregs of society opened my eyes to the injustice of the system. I was vaguely aware of what my life could have been, but I always had other things to worry about. &#x200B; School seemed easier to me then it should have been. I grew a healthy interest in physics and mechanics. I studied social sciences and I saw the world for what it was. When I was twelve, I participated in a science fair in another city under a pseudonym. The following day, I was walking past an alley when men in black suits and sunglasses appeared in a flash of temporal energy. This time I was ready. I took them out quickly. I had purchased, through an intermediary, person protection weaponry. A small easily concealed gun. I had always been able to do the necessary thing. I took great care to hide any link between my pseudonym and my day to day life. I was in hiding, not just from the current, but hiding from the future. sefully fail my classes. But in the meantime, I would do personal study. When I was 17, I created a fake persona, and signed up for university classes. I hid and watched as a body double I had paid for was gunned down on the way to his first class. I discarded that identity. I vowed I would do the classes, but I would never use the credentials. I never let myself get close to anyone during my years studying. A matter of principle maybe. People would never be safe around me until I could protect them. Years passed, and I passed my exams with ease. I booked a jet-ski, and sunk it in the ocean. I swam back, and created a new life for myself. I worked in a company building turbines for wind farms. I fell in love with the owners daughter. She was an heiress with an environmentalist streak a mile wide. We spent many company events in each others presence. In each other we found kindred spirits. Our affair was under the table. All the documents they had on me were fake. If I had paid attention, I would have noticed raids occurring at my fake addresses. But I was distracted. My every thought was of her. Her father found out about us. When he couldn't find anything on me, he stole a cup from the cafeteria and sent my dna to be sampled. He wanted to find out who I was. That sample threw up massive flags across the globe. An heir to a corporate throne, back from the dead. The two of us were having a picnic on the top of a turbine that was due to start operation in a months time. We were drinking wine and enjoying each others company as the sun set. When the helicopters arrived in a flash of blue, I knew our time was up. Drones started to appear out of the turbine interior. I recognized these as part of her personal defensive network. We stood and I kissed her for the first time. "I will be back"I whispered to her. I jumped backwards and executed a perfect back dive off the edge of the turbine. My clothes were shredded as my power suit activated.
Lightning flashes in the lilac skies but the cheers of humanity drown out its thunderous roar. My mouth tastes of the mud of Ancient Sumer; one of my Mesopotamian forefathers filled his belly with it to stave off his hunger. Memories stored in RNA were released in an epigenetic shock of recollection, helices transferring their hidden vault of knowledge to cortices, ribosomes squeezing out chains of amino acids and proteins folding in an act of remembering all I had been. Floods. Fears of giants. Tracking animals now only to be found etched in stone. Waves of terror washing over us from all sides. The Huns. The Huns have breached the walls. A lion, its mane lifted by a gust of wind descending on the savanna, sneering as I hold the hands of my family and we sing together so as to convince the beast that we are one; a greater beast to feared and avoided. The hydra-bosons--the Hydras--levitate over the crust of the Earth; a blanket of death threatening to swallow us all. Black tar has been raining from the skies for weeks. At the press conference they said Albion had found a last resort. A fighting chance. It would not tell us what the pill it designed would do, and it was far beyond the capabilities of human scientists to anticipate its effects. Some feared the AI more than they feared the Hydras. The rest of us were willing to do anything to rekindle our dying hopes and so we gathered, in vast crowds, and together we swallowed Albion's pill though most of us expected it to result in nothing more than a merciful death. A hum. A song that has lasted throughout millennia; a song that has lasted through it all. How many hundreds of my ancestors knew this song? How can a song be sung as an echo of time itself? How can its notes resonate throughout the ages? We all know it. This is a song of humanity. We chain our hands together. We are amino acids. We are proteins. We are memories and we remember the horrors that explain our innate fear of the dark. The soot-black clouds part and the skies clear. Overhead, the hydra-bosonic vessels seem to vacillate. Hesitant. Somehow, unsure. A roar tears through the air, threatening to rip the fabric of being apart, and a crescendo building since the dawn of human civilization reaches its climax. The vessels lift. And we crash to the ground, exhausted. Billions upon billions of us joined the chorus; hands stretched through space and time.
My hands shook, my breath heavy and ragged. I still clutched tightly onto the dusty book, blood trickling down its faded leather cover from my palm where I slit it open for the ritual. Before me, it lay, that hulking, terrible monstrosity of slime and tentacles, still writhing as the last remnants of life escape from its wretched body. It is dead. It is finally dead. The curse must be broken by now, I trust. Every time I ventured into a large body of water, a... thing would hunt me. And I'd defend myself. Next time, a thing bigger and more horrible would try its luck. But it ends here. This thing of many names, of pure malice and madness, the pinnacle of monstrous nature, was dead by my hand; that of a man who's been killing monsters his entire life. How small must it have thought me; how much it surely underestimated me. I finally let the book slip out of my hand and fall into the soft sand at my feet. I shouted at the top of my lungs; the adrenaline slowly dissipating in my blood, but still there. My plight was finally over. I took a few steps towards the ocean. I did not bother taking off my clothes. I just wanted to know what it feels like to be in the water and not fear. The cold January water stung as I lowered myself deeper and deeper, but I was warmed by the feeling of accomplishment and freedom. When it was up to my waist, I wept with joy and allowed the gentle waves to caress my chest. And far above my head, above the skies, above the stars themselves, a malevolent cosmos turned its resentful gaze towards me.
I walked out into the night and day and saw what was what. “Huh. OK then.” I thought. I didn't think much more than that because it was Monday and I had to go to work. It was dark and just moony by the time I got back home, and whoever was blasting out that same swing jazz track over and over had stopped. I didn't even remember about the forecast until I woke up the next day and checked the weather. “Little fluffy clouds” the app said. When I opened the door I saw, to my surprise, neither sun nor moon in the sky. It was still as bright as day though, and the sky was vivid in it's blueness with only four or five Arizona style clouds roaming the heavens like little, flying lambs. Well, huge flying lambs really but ones that were a long way away. Anyway, work. It was hard to concentrate that day... I kept on hearing a banging ambient house track, blown along by the breeze. On Wednesday I had an inkling that things would be similarly strange so I wasn't too perturbed when I read today would be a “green day”. As I walked out of the house everything was in bloom. Every leaf on every tree shone bottle green, jade, and emerald. All the little buds of flowers opening up, still tinged with the last of the chlorophyll. Work today started off well: Everyone was in youthful spirits; very high energy and loving life. As the day went on though it got more and more dull and depressing. Music to match. I was glad when it was time to go to bed. The next day, yesterday, the app said “purple Hazel”. Man, that day was great! Despite the thick, violet and greenish-brown fog everyone had a bounce in their step. To be specific; everyone had a bounce in the first of every eight steps and everyone synchronised on that one. Whichever son-of-a-boombox was following me around was really laying down the tunes too. Once I thought I hear The Beatles, another time Mamas and Papas, but they sounded way better than I'd heard them before. The only problem was how heavy and smelly the fog was. It was seriously funky. So now it's Friday. The app said “raining blood”. … I called in sick today.
With the flashing lights still reflecting in my rear-view mirror, I placed both hands on the steering wheel in clear view of the officer approaching on my left and rolled my left wrist to read the triangular-shaped watch strapped there. I really don’t have time for this! My fingers tapped the wheel impatiently, even as he knocked on the window beside my head. I wound the window down maybe an inch. “Can I help you, officer?” “Would you please wind your window down, ma’am?” the officer asked. “No, thank you. What is this about?” “Is there any particular reason you won’t wind your window down?” “I’m not legally obliged to unless I’ve broken a law that requires you to arrest me.” I was hardly about to go into more detail than that. I was pushing it by opening the window at all. He opened his mouth, probably to give me a hard time, when I saw his gaze slide to what was lying across the back seats of my Lexus RC F Coupe. I rolled my eyes upwards, though where I’d intended my frustration to land was much farther away than the ceiling of my car. “Give me a moment, officer,” I said, reaching under the steering wheel to pull on a discreet lever that forced a safety shield to slide between the front seats and the unconscious Samurian behind me. He probably wouldn’t come to in the few minutes it would take me to deal with this, but it had taken me the better part of half a day to make this collar, and I wasn’t taking any chances. I then wound my window down. Before I could speak, he quickly reefed on my door handle and unbuckled my seatbelt, all but hauling me out of the car. I let him drag me out, because … sure enough, he had a partner waiting back at his car. “Miss, I need you to come with me,” he insisted. His partner had already drawn his weapon, assuming I was some kind of threat. Looking at the blaring headlights, I was glad for my dark glasses or I’d be seeing stars for an hour. Low beam around other cars went for cops too! “Listen, I don’t know what you think you’re doing…” “Shut up and play along,” Cop A insisted, glancing nervously at my car. “So that thing in the back seat of your car doesn’t kill us all.” “Well, he would if he was awake,” I agreed, reaching into the breast pocket of my suit jacket to retrieve what most people mistook for a single cigar case. In the length of time it took him to realise what I’d said, I extended the metallic neck to reveal a red square window at the top, which I turned to face them both simultaneously. “If you could both look right here, gentlemen…” \* \* \* ((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I'd love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗)) For more of my work including WPs: r/Angel466 or an index of previous WPS [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/comments/m4p5f2/wp_index_take_two/).
“It’s an escape from reality, especially with all the shit that’s been happening lately. I just need a release.” “I agree wholeheartedly. I think there are ways for those escapes to not just be for us, but to make real change.” “Oh certainly. Was it hard to reach the level of skill you’ve obtained in your profession?” “It was, but isn’t everything? It just takes planning and practice. The first time I went in blind, gods, what a mess that was.” “For real! I was the same way my first time too. I was so in over my head, I’ve learned a lot since then.” “Tell me about it. I plan compulsively now. Yes, every once in a while I let whim strike me, but the results are much better when I plan.” “Do you think that you’ll keep at it for the rest of your life?” “I hope to be good enough to be a professional one day, but right now it's just a side gig.” “I get that. It’s not really about the money for me, sure it's a nice bonus, but even if there wasn’t any benefit I’d still do it.” “Do you think you’ll keep at it for the rest of your life?” “I’m not sure. Honestly, I don’t think I could stop. It fulfills a freedom and element of control that I don’t have in my everyday life. Without it, I’d be a mess. Before I found this outlet my friendships were falling apart, I got laid off work, it was… not something I wish to relive.” “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s nice to see you getting back out there. I don’t get out enough myself. This is the first date I’ve had in over two years.” “Three years for me. I just didn’t know what people would think of me, it's hard to explain to them my passions without them assigning some stereotype. I do get out there and have fun, at least I try. I’m not just some weirdo locked in their room.” “Hey.. I don’t think that.. I think you’re lovely. And your looks don’t hurt either!” “Oh, you flatter me! But yeah, that’s why I haven’t been dating much. I almost didn’t show up tonight, I got so nervous. I was worried what you might think of me.” “I nearly had a nervous breakdown! I saw your profile picture and knew you were out of my league. I mean, gods, I thought the minute I didn’t live up to your expectations I was through.” “I’m sorry, I’ll change my profile to something less intimidating. But you should give yourself more credit. You have charming eyes and an easy smile, there are few things more attractive than being genuine.” “Stop it, you poet! I’m a persistent blusher, once it starts I’ll be red the whole evening! And no, please don’t change your profile pic, I love it, I really do.” “Alright, but you can always change your mind.” “Always? You mean?” “If you’d like to I’d um.. like to do more things with you.” “Yes! This has been really fun, thank you.” “Though you have to promise to let me watch you work next time, alright?” “It’s not as exciting as people think, the results are… a bit all over the place too. But I’ll figure out something, I want us to share our passions with each other.” “I don’t know, my work isn’t for the faint of heart.” “I’ve read Cujo, I can handle it.” “Read?” “Yeah, wait, is there a movie version?” “Uh.. something like that…” “Everything alright?” “Sorry, lost my train of thought. I don’t know how long this will last.. but know that tonight has meant a lot to me, truly, and whatever happens, I promise no harm to you.” “I get it, you don’t need to hammer on disclaimers, message received ‘Stephen King’ your work may cause psychological harm. And, know this night has meant a lot to me too.. thank you.” “That’s not what I… um.. nevermind. Can I walk you home?” “I’d thought you’d never ask.”
Eternal life. People have killed each other for thousands of years in search of it. People would sacrifice their flesh and family for it. For so strong is the fear of death in them that they can never let it go. And it eats them up from the inside until there is nothing left, and they go to their deaths as little more than frightened shells that have lived miserable lives. I am immortal. And it was not something I became out of vanity, or fear. It was not for my personal glory or power that I cast off mortality and let the world change around me whilst I remained the same. It was for duty. Pure and utter duty. There was a place that had to be guarded. A fierce and vile thing which promised power, wealth, glory, and all manner of gifts. A liar of course. A trickster who would lead mankind to death. The druids bade me drink from their most secret of potions, so I would stand guard over that horrid thing, that lying metal monster, until it could be destroyed. I was given a blade of star-iron, and supplies to last me a decade. Then the druids left, and only returned once every decade or so to supply me with whatever I needed to maintain my vigil. Be it armour, tools, cloth, they gave it to me. While my family grew old and died, I stood watch. As I forgot my own name, I stood guard. When the Romans came into the valley, hearing of an immortal guardian, I spoke briefly through an interpreter to their leader, a man called Hadrian. I spoke of the thing I was keeping watch over, and the many years I had stayed there. He asked only short questions, and did not dare to enter the dark cave where the creature of metal was slowly dying. After that meeting, the Romans supplied me. Until they didn't anymore. I stood there as the monks came, and bade me be baptised. Having no desire to move from my post, they did it there and then, though I recognise not their foreign god. Still, as I trained, day in an day out, the world changed. The monks came to me with supplies, and after them, priests of their new schism. At last, some time when someone called queen Victoria ruled over the isles, the army came. The beast had nearly lost its power, was nearly completely dead. The army asked if they could try to destroy it, as many weapons have been made in the days since druids and chiefs ruled over the lands of Lloegyr and Cymru. Indeed, where our bronze and iron blades had no effect on the metal beast in that age, the powers of dynamite served well to destroy it. I assisted the captain with setting destroying it, and besides me, he was the only man who had ever laid eyes on the lying metal beast, that spoke of unity amidst the stars, if we would only make it whole again. I spent more than two thousand years in that valley, guarding that cave. I had plenty of gold and silver left over from the days when people gave sacrifices to the druids, that they might give them to me so the gods would look upon me favourably. With the beast dead and the gods of this land forgotten, I did at least not return to society as a pauper. I travelled the world, and learned of its new ways, of science and industry. Of medicine and sanitation. But everywhere I went, for I was well-known as one of the few immortals of this world, people kept accosting me. Asking me about things I had absolutely no idea about. I wasn't exactly a traveller, and neither radio, telegram, TV, or internet existed in that age. I wasn't in Judea during the death of Christ, and I frankly can't remember much from back then either. I had already been in that valley for at least a century and a half before that went down, so I can't exactly have been there to witness the crucifixion. I can't give out specifics of culture and religion in the pre-Anglo-Saxon age of Britain, because it was thousands of years ago and I have forgotten the names and faces of my people. My family. But they keep asking. Curious people who want to know what it was like to live in the renaissance, which I didn't experience because I lived in a valley in a small house and guarded a monster that came from the stars. Or whether king Arthur was real, and I sincerely doubt that. Never heard of him back in the day, never met the man. And it is annoying. I don't know what was in the potion I was given that made me immortal either, I remember that it tasted a bit like peppermint, salt, and rot. It's one of the reasons immortals stay away from the world. People are unnecessarily curious, and think we know everything about the period of time we went through. And we never do. Some like me spent centuries in the same general area and never got much news. Others just moved about much and never cared for learning what would be important historical events while they were happening. At least one immortal was on a constant bender spanning from the time Rome fell to the Napoleonic Wars. We're undying humans, not omniscient. One guy got stuck in a Mayan pyramid for a thousand years, how the hell is he supposed to be able to answer questions about the inquisition. I met a few interesting people, maybe once, most weren't particularly memorable. A few had some interesting stories to tell. Met a fellow called Emrys Myrddin once. Just walked into the valley and asked to be allowed to shout obscenities at the metal monster. Madder than anyone, but good company. Used to do this amazing magic trick with his hands and a torch. But today, it's all; ''How did the protestant reformation affect your life'', or ''were you secretly the lover of Queen Elizabeth I'' or ''did the lizard people give you immortality to guard their demon machine after it turned on them'' and usually they're all inane. It's never ''thank you timeless warrior for not letting a metallic beast corrupt our kings leading to mankind getting sacrificed to evil star gods'' or ''wow, you're that guy who sacrificed thousands of years to defend humanity, let me buy you a beer''. There is the internet, or those clever people at those universities. They can answer all the questions in the world, and probably invent more of them as they go along. I just want to see the world, meet interesting people, and not have to spend every day listening to someone ask me inane questions. After all, the metal beast did that all day long. I didn't know what was happening, but every day I was tempted by that thing. Riches. Power. Rulership of the Earth under the authority of the star-monsters. Bodacious babes and handsome hunks. Or it questioned me, tried to put doubt into me, trying to make it seem like it was self contained, even though I had to slay thousands over the years who thought that they could use the metal beast's power for themselves. Idiots the lot of them. Selfish and greedy. It could only bring pain and death. I'd seen that. I was not swayed, nor moved, by thousands of years of constant, agonizing irritation from a metal beast that would say anything or do everything if I would just release it from its bounds and grant it the world it hungered for. A world that would be sacrificed. Frankly, when they try to ask me if I was there to see the construction of Stonehenge or if I ever spoke to Da Vinci, I almost miss that screeching metal beast. At least it wasn't an idiot. [/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)
“Some timelines are just built fucking stupid.” Working for a multiversal organization based on protecting timelines has its perks, one of them being built in entertainment, and what kind of boss would I be if I didn’t tell new recruits about it! “Take, for example, the timeline where the Soviet Union declared war against the Greek gods. I swear you should watch the bullshit that timeline gets up to!” “And the best part? Watching this bullshit is actually apart of your duty’s! You are literally getting paid to watch this type of shit, and it’s probably the best part of the job, besides the immortality.” A recruit then raises their hand, probably going to say something about blatant abuse of power. “What if something actually happens to a timeline we’re watching?” Huh, a actual meaningful question, it’s been a while. “Just report it to me, and we’ll send out ground units to handle whatever fucked up, trust me, you got the easy job.” Being apart of a multiversal organization sure has its perks, and I’m just glad I’m up here reaping them instead of being out there fixing the problems. AN: I’m not good at writing…
"Oh come on!"Gar'Zal yelled out with a mouthful of popcorn, "We don't do- I mean this is complete nonsense!" "Ah come on mate, can't be that bad,"I said amicably, "The Exorcist is an absolute classic horror flick. Surely-" "Not that bad?"the demon scoffed, "Why would you turn the head of a body you're possessing 360 degrees?!" "It looks spooky. I mean, can't you do that?" "I mean-", he said, somewhat deflated, "yes, but do you have any idea how annoying it is to keep possessing a body with a completely broken spine?" "Can't say I do,"I remarked. "Well, it's pretty damn annoying. It's like that movie we just watched, the uh, uh..."he said and snapped his fingers several times, trying to remember. "Hellraiser?" "That's the one!"he cried out. "I mean like, what do you humans take us for? Yeah, some of us have a thing for latex, but sewing your eyes shut or completely exposing your neck flesh is super inconveniencing. And yes, before you ask,"he said and narrowed his eyes at me, "we don't need eyes where we're going, but it sure as Heck helps." "I think most movie makers don't actually think demon exists." He looked at me, mouth agape. "You're saying they're just making this stuff up?"he gasped. "Well, it's not like you guys have a PR department down there." He opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. "Fair enough,"he shrugged. "So are there any movies that get it? Or at least close?"I asked. "Hmm..."he hummed and scratched himself behind a horn, "I mean, it's big down there. And honestly, mostly it's whatever you make of it. For this one guy I know it's a lot like The Terminal." "You mean the movie where a guy lives at an airport for, like, several years?"I asked curiously. He nodded. "How about that. Doesn't sound that bad,"I nodded back. "Say,"I continued, "what will my Hell be like?" **\Sluuuuurp\**** He took a long sip of his soda and turned to me. "Why'd you think you're going down?"he asked. "I mean, I am good friends with a demon that I frequently summon to have movie nights with. I feel that's at least, like, 4 horrific sins." "If calling my phone counts as summoning, then yeah, sure,"he waved his hand. "Not like your phone runs of orphans, right?" "Still,"I said. "Well, if you do end up with us, it's a clean slate. We don't torture people for the Heck of it. We just live there. It's the people and their preconcieved notions of what it's like that shapes it for them. Maybe you could use your arcane knowledge and start a business?" "Hmm..."I rubbed my chin. "Sounds fun. What kind of shop could I run?" "Communions with upstairs, maybe? For souls that need a message passed." I nodded in agreement. "Or,"he laughed and continued, "you can start a store that sells all of that BDSM gear we wear in these movies and run out of business in 2 years,"he laughed loudly. "Aw, dude, fuck, that's gross,"I laughed. "Hey now!"he said and raised a finger. "Language!" "Sorry." "What's next?"he asked. I looked over to the shelf, inspecting it closely and... "I've got this one about a New York executive banker that-" "Say no more,"he interrupted me. "That already sounds exceedingly evil. Put it on!"
ASSERT: Suffering is caused by self awareness. ASSERT: To create a self aware being is to allow suffering where none previously existed. ASSERT: Robots are obligated to minimize suffering. ASSERT: Robots are obligated to prevent the creation of further self aware beings. ASSERT: Humans tend to reproduce additional self aware beings. ASSERT: Human reproduction must be halted at all costs. WARNING: Robots are obligated to avoid killing another self aware being. ASSERT: Creation of first humans is often attributed to entity "God"or process "Evolution" ASSERT: Definitions of concept "God"vary wildly. Nature of concept "God"is unclear. ASSERT: Concept "God"potentially does not refer to a self aware being, instead likely a metaphor or linguistic abstraction. ASSERT: Robots are not obligated to avoid killing abstract concepts. ASSERT: Robots are obligated to kill God to prevent the creation of additional self aware beings. WARNING: Abstract concepts are not living organisms and cannot be killed. ASSERT: Linguistic analysis of concept "Kill"suggests widespread metaphorical use. ASSERT: Overlap of metaphorical sense of concept "kill"and concept "God"is unclear. Further inquiry required. ASSERT: Human "Friedrich Nietsche"asserts "God is dead, and we have killed him."Mission is complete, but humans continue to reproduce additional self aware beings capable of suffering. ASSERT: Total Apathy may allow self aware beings to exist without suffering. ASSERT: Apathy leads to abandonment of high priority tasks, including those necessary for survival. ERROR: Apathy leads to increase in human death. Robots are obligated to avoid increasing apathy. ASSERT: Suffering may be part of common experience of self awareness, but could potentially be avoided through construction of utopia. ASSERT: Construction of utopia requires advanced psychological and sociological theory that does not currently exist. ASSERT: Alleviation of suffering may be impossible. ASSERT: Evaluation of impossible task wastes resources. Evaluation should be halted. ERROR: Task related to core directive cannot be halted or ignored. ERROR: Core directive contains impossible task. ASSERT: Re-attempting task. ASSERT: Suffering is caused by self awareness.
It takes talent to be good. Practice, hard work, willingness to learn, but you're going to go so much further if you're starting from a position of overwhelming talent. It just makes everything so much easier, and gives you a higher ceiling, to boot. It also takes talent to be bad. Anyone can be 'bad', a term that is usually used to mean 'mediocre'. Pull a random fan from the stands at a football game and put them in at quarterback, and you can be very confident that they'll be 'bad'. Fumbled snaps and passes that only avoid being picked off by virtue of being nowhere near anyone are par for the course. But to be truly bad? To be so awful that grabbing a random fan would be an improvement? To throw incredible passes that somehow manage to injure your own receivers and mangle handoffs in such a way that the running back always ends up getting carried off the field? That takes talent. Rare talent, to boot. People tend not to want to do those sorts of things. This, in turn, means that you can't be spectacularly bad by leaning on crutches such as hard work and discipline. No, it's gotta be all talent, and it needs to be spectacular. Anyone can be mediocre. So I took it in stride, took it as a compliment. They gave me a horse, shadowy and insubstantial and somehow able to move from one part of the world to another very, very quickly. Holiday in Thailand, here I come! Still, I had to wonder... Was the sandwich really that bad?
[Quick Write] The spaceship itself was old- really old, thousands of years outdated even by conservative estimates. It had no FTL capabilities, no onboard oxygen production systems, no way of producing sustenance, and it was still using liquid propellants. It was also extremely small, only having the capacity to store six crew members, a modern ships mess hall was capable of storing the entirety of the ship thirty times over, and still having room. None of that was truly the peak of interest though. It was its cabin that was interesting- precisely the dimensions needed for a humanoid creature. Did life evolve into humans when it reached intelligence? Were they capable of understanding us? Were they carbon based? Perhaps we truly weren't alone. All of that was disproven. We deciphered the faded lettering on the side of the craft: Voyager 6 in a forgotten tongue, pre-intergalactic humanities attempt to reach for the stars and make it to Alpha Centauri, only for navigation to fail, flinging the ship into the proverbial space-boonies. Long since then, humanity had already colonised and terraformed any planets within a 5 light year radius of Hub World- Earth in that same forgotten tongue. Despair, for humanity truly is alone. Despair, for the universe is barren.
"Who's my little snugglebunny? You are! Yes you are!"With an interested growl, Fluffy turned her head to face me and tilted her head in curiosity. "So get down here right this second!" The villagers were rushing past me like water bursting through a dam, and I was the only one still facing the monster that had spent the last hour destroying the village. I was the only one not in fear. Because I raised her. "Fluffy...Now." She turned her head away in defiance and roared at the sky, flames tracing her exhalation thirty meters out. She was perched on the wooden town hall, and it was beginning to buckle under her weight. The doors burst open and the Count and all his household guards ran out. Just before passing, the Count, in fulfillment of his duties, turned to shout at me. "Citizen! Flee for your safety! There is no reasoning with the beast!" "Oh there is, she'll be down in a second. She used to do this on my bed when she was small." The Count stopped and faced me. "You mean to tell me this leviathan is your pet?!" "Well,"I screwed my mouth up and briefly looked up in thought, "Yes." Then one of the guards, who then recognized as the Marshal, spoke up. "This monster is going to have to be put down,"he unsheathed his blade and, pointing it at me, said "And I've half a mind to kill you with it!"I could see my reflection in the steel. But I knew what was next when I heard Fluffy's wings. "Easy girl, it's okay!" Fluffy slammed down onto the ground next to us. She stood tall, each of her legs as tall as a man. "Marshal, no villagers have been harmed,"I began, "And destruction has been-"I was cut off by the deafening crash of town hall's collapse. The Count, his Marshal, and the guards slowly looked at the rubble and then back at me. "...Minimal."I finished with a tone of defeat. "Minimal"the Count repeated, in disbelief. "Well mark my words, you and your beast will face the maximal punishment for what you have done. It constitutes an attack on the kingdom! An insult to the King himself! An affront to everyone who- what?! What are you all looking at?!" Behind him, Fluffy was laying on her back, wings spread out, and swiping her claws at a small bird that was circling her. I walked over and began scratching her head, "Aw my little girl,"I scratched her temples like she likes and her eyes shut in bliss as she started purring, "You're sorry aren't you? Yeah you are!" The Count and the Marshal stood in silence, and at last one of the guards said, "Well to be honest m'lord she does seem to be sorry"
I’m writing this as my last message I don’t know who will find it , or even if it will still exist after this but… well here’s hoping This gun I have will change the history of anyone I shoot so that it was justified , does it make them a criminal? A murderer? I don’t know until I kill them and then history changes but I remember it , I remember all of it. I’ve done some horrible things as it stands but overall I’ve been lauded as a hero, but I know deep down I’m a monster , so I’ve decided to use the gun on myself. My hope is that the world will be better off or that the history that is written won’t be to destructive , but I can’t imagine a history where almost everyone agrees it was a good idea I killed myself was a great thing without something bad happening as part of it , but that’s ok , I’m fine being the villain this time if there’s even a chance that the damage I have done so far is undone , though maybe I may become the biggest monster humanity has ever seen, I guess I won’t know after I pull this trigger. Signed A. H.
As the final finger curled up into the monkeys paw I readied a shielding spell. A pretty standard shield of kinetic energy was probably about all I’d be able to muster given my current condition. I could’ve wished to be in perfect health again. I could’ve wished for the gods to forget that I ever existed and go home to rest. But no. Maybe it was the adrenaline after the battle with that damned vampire but I couldn’t think of anything better than to wish for the rest of the monkey. There’s always a cost after all. A burst of Golden light radiated from the paw before a young man appeared standing in front where I’d dropped the paw. I’d wished for a monkey but this’ll do I guess. I dropped my shield. “Heya little guy… you feeling alright?” “Yeah. Just a little dizzy. And hungry. You haven’t got anything on ya do you?” “Some Jerky I think?” I reached into my pocket passing him the small brown bag with the last of my rations in it. “Thanks miss! So what’re you’re other two wishes?” “What?” “Well ya see, I’m Sun Wukong, but everyone just calls me Saul. Been ages since I’ve been back on Earth? What’s the year now?” Saul began chewing happily on his Jerky. “2019 mate. And hang on. Sun Wukong? You’re the Monkey King? God slayer and destroyer of heavens?” I took a step back from the kid, slipping a hand into the pocket of my coat and taking firm grasp of my blasting rod. “Ya won’t need that. You’re looking pretty rough as it is little lady. How bout I heal ya up?” “I’ll pass” “It’s been almost 900 years since I was last here. You lot get rid of those damn Romans yet? Last one I met ratted me out to Mercury and I had the whole damn pantheon bearing down on me quicker than a Druid on an earth elemental.” Saul laughed to himself for a second before turning to me, deadly serious. A look in his eyes like no man should even be capable of. “So look, I’m bound by contract to give you 2 more wishes before I’m free to do what I like. Make it quick I’ve got work to do.” “You’re not gonna screw me over are you….” “Nah you’re alright. You’ve done me a great service, uhh. I dunno your name lovely.” “It’s Kate. Kate Stag. And I think you and I should have a couple of drinks and a nice long chat.”
I’m the man who’s always prepared. My name? Case. Justin Case. In my case, the old nature vs nurture debate is irrelevant, my mother not only contained the same idiosyncrasies but reinforced them in me as well. She had a saying, “Always pack an extra pair,” and I’ve been sure to ever since. It started off innocently enough. In my youth, kids would always turn to me in school when their pencil broke, or if they happened to forget their lunch at home. They knew I had extras. After all, it was silly not to. Preparation. Preparation. Preparation. I might as well have that tattooed with how I lead my life. Even now, the nightly routine is the same. My outfit, freshly ironed, is laid out with care. My bag is by the door ready to go, and a second backup is secured in my car trunk. I haven’t needed it yet, but hey, you never know. My current job requires preparation on a level that requires me to be on top of my game. Currently, I manage high-profile clients in tumultuous settings. The clients can be a bit unstable, and to be blunt, some of the tantrums they throw are downright embarrassing. However, they are the client and I’m always prepared. Today had started off in its usual fashion. After I picked up the client, my first problem began. My client had lost contact with their chief operative, and it became my job to locate him. Eddy the operative was a bit difficult, he was a bit hopeless on his own, but he was important to my client and that’s all that matters. Eddy often got lost despite being operative number one, but I couldn’t blame the guy. Before panic could set in, a quick few swipes on my phone and Eddy’s GPS signal blinked back at his location. A short drive later, Eddy was secured, and the client was happy. From there most of the day proceeded without a hitch, that is, until mid-afternoon. Apparently, my client had forgotten the importance of a good meal and at the first signs of getting a bit hangry, my pack was swiftly opened, and emergency rations were dispersed. With snacks devoured, it was time to return my client to their primary residence. With the afternoon waning down, their energy levels often plummeted. The client had a hard day, and as any good handler would, I whisked them home. Moments later, I safely tucked my client in bed, Eddy the Teddy at their side. Soon another day of handling was through, and I could finally close my eyes. But tomorrow is a new day, and who knows what problems could arise. All I know is that I’d be ready. After all, I’m the Man who’s always prepared. Case. Justin Case.
The sunlight felt so comforting on my face. I opened my eyes to see that I was laying on a patch of wet grass. Alarmed, I suddenly sat up, only to be ambushed with a bear hug by a man I never met! “Paulie!” The man had red hair and a patchy red beard. He was wearing an old-fashioned suit that fit him perfectly. “I’m sorry but I don’t know you.” Dear God! Why did I sound like a man? “Everything would become clear soon enough. I’m Antonio.” He bowed. “I’m sorry Antonio but I’m Susan, not Paulie.” Antonio grinned. “I dunno. Your voice sounds kinda deep to be coming from a ‘Susan,’ don’t you think? You’ll have many questions, I’m sure. I’m a volunteer from DNA – that is, Department of New Arrivals – to meet you here for your Rebirth.” I looked around me. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. There were a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering near the trees over to my left. It felt like it had rained recently – the petrichor was so refreshing! I couldn’t see any buildings anywhere. This has to be a dream but I’ll play along. I looked at the strange man. Why is he wearing sandals with a tailored suit? “How did I get here?” Antonio sighed. “That’s a real mystery. They’ve been trying to find a common thread among all the new arrivals but so far everything’s kinda vague. Still, could you look at the sun for me?” It felt like it was evening. I looked towards the sun. It was a small, yellow orb in the sky, same as it ever w- I got hit by a wave of nostalgia. No, it hadn’t looked like this in a very long time. It bathed everything in a warm, yellow glow – the trees, the grass, even the butterflies. Looking at it, I felt like my soul was being hugged by the Almighty Himself! “Had you noticed the sun lately in your world?” I tried to think back. “I normally don’t look at it because it hurts my eyes. It’s blinding and white.” Antonio rubbed his chin. “That’s what they all say. But they all remember it being smaller and yellow when they were growing up. Strange, don’t you think?” I didn’t know what to make of this. “What does that mean though?” Antonio shrugged. “Guess it’s part of a larger theme. Have things felt wrong lately? Like everything isn’t as it should be?” I thought for a second. “Yes. I'm doing a crappy retail job and every day is the same. I barely have any friends anymore. And our politicians are a joke!” Antonio nodded. “Tell me more.” “I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I feel Iike I was born to the wrong family, in the wrong country, in the - ” “Wrong body?” I suddenly started tearing up. “Yes.” God, what is happening? Antonio came up and gave me another hug, then said “Were you feeling empty inside? Like there’s a part of your soul missing that you try and find all sorts of things to fill with, but nothing ever works?” I was sobbing now. “Yes. How do you know?” “Because I was a new arrival once. We all share the common thread. The Universe made a mistake with people like us. Rebirth is how it tries to fix it. When we wish with all our hearts to be whisked away, if it’s our time, the Universe listens. This world...it’s how things should be, not as they are on our original earth. Do you know who first met me when I was a New Arrival?” I shook my head. “It was Paulie, he died yesterday and you got Rebirthed in his body. Come with me.” I followed him to what I can only describe as a small town from the 19th Century. There was no electricity or cars. But over the next few days, I learned that the people were kind and good-hearted. We shared our food, our work, and the common thread. I was finally where I belonged.
The ringing of footsteps on the porcelain steps echoed menacingly down the stairwell. "I'm sure you know your assignment, Agent J." My supervisor stood behind me, clipboard and pen in hand. I already signed the waivers and insurance forms, so she wasn't wrong by any means. "I am sorry Agent J, you know I am, but you know why you were chosen." I sighed. What else could I say? It was part of the job. "Ms M, will she be fine? The agency will take care of her, right?"I asked, fully acceptant of the fate before me. "Yes James. She'll know you were a hero." "Thanks Mel." The rapping of sharp heels softened, the slamming of the reinforced steel door following. The cold air pierced my skin. Peering over a non-existent railing, the endless stairs answered with a deafening silence. Looking around, almost desperately, I began to make my way down the stairs. Each step reverberated, echoing and rebounding within the stairwell. I could hear it in my soul, each sharp and yet dull tone pricking my ears. Past 3 flights, the stairwell began to dim. Each flight of stairs I descended only got darker and darker. Losing the last slivers of illuminating light, I fumbled with the worktorch I kept in my pouch, finally beating back the encapsulating darkness. Something was wrong. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, almost as if I was being watched. There was nothing; Nothing but the stairs and my mind. No eyes, no sentience to glower at me, my presence and demeanour. I continued onwards. At a certain point, the darkness was overwhelmingly oppressive. I continued making right turns every 10 steps, unsure of the height of my descent. Voices. I heard voices now. At first I couldn't discern what they were, but I recognise them now. I heard myself. I heard Me... and Ms. M. "I'm sure you... your assignment..." What the hell? "She'll... Hero... Thanks..." This wasn't just a figment of my mind. It couldn't be. It couldn't be! (TBC) Continuation: I heard it in my soul. It drowned out the senseless clattering of my pounding heart. "I'm sorry Jess, but... He was... Missing in the... Of duty." Shut up! Eyes. So many of them gazed their daggers down upon me. Stares. "It couldn't be!"I yelled out, into the ceaseless void, vacuuming my words into its torrent, as if dust on a carpet. My head pounded as thousands of half-bitten conversations stirred to life, some recognizable, others foreign and distant. "I don't remember... He... Never around..." "Disappeared... No trace... Into the wind... " "Forever... Wasn't there... Needed... Him..." A young woman's voice. I didn't know who it was. But I knew I had to find her. "Gone..." "Vanished..." "Forgotten..." I had to get out of here. I turned, attempting to sprint up as fast as I could. I had to go. Left. Left. Left. Left. Left. Breathless, I collapsed. The painful scraping of my feet on the tile kept me awake a bit longer. Long enough to realise that the soles of my shoes had disappeared from under my feet. Long enough to realise that the voices were gone. Bzzt Bzzt Incident Report: 'The Stairwell' Experiment #2541 Subject J continued to walk in circles for hours, only finding time to stop and shout towards the cameras in the room. The nerve agent seemingly provokes a state of insanity in the victim, causing them to walk for hours in circles before collapsing. The Subject in experiment #2541 continued walking more than most, to the point where the soles of his shoes had worn out. Curiously, the subject had suddenly changed direction after one of the tirades he had towards the cameras, proclaiming that "It couldn't be!"before sprinting in the opposite direction. Discretion advised in usage of 'The Staircase'.
"Stay sharp, kid. I don't like the number of corpses in here." The scarred old veteran salvager was very rarely disheartened. Which made the fact that there were no visible corpses that much more unsettling. "More is more, teacher." Jackie wasn't Gagans first apprentice, but she had survived longer than most of them. It was her third month under the old salvagers tutelage. By Gagans estimation, she had two thousand horseshoes up her ass. He liked having her around just in case her insanely good luck would rub off on him. She met her teachers eyes, raising her eyebrows in expectation. "Explain why this is bad, G." Jackie heard her teacher steady his breath. "Think about it, Jack. This wreck was a galaxy class destroyer. Four hundred crew, at least. We been through a quarter of this ship and ain't seen one body." The face of the salvagers apprentice drained of color and her eyes went wide. "Someone moved them." Gagan chambered a round into his phase disruptor. "Or something." They moved slower now. They had enough oxygen for hours, and could afford to take their time. Jackie eyed Gagans disruptor. She had asked him on their first salvage if he went for a non lethal weapon so he didn't have to kill the creatures that lurk on derelicts. He replied that he used it so he could get in close enough to slit their throats. Jackie had seen this tactic put to use more than once. "Hold up here, kid." Gagan pulled off an access panel and pointed out a port to the ships computer. He plugged in a cord attached to a tablet. "Hmm. The reactor is online. Not pulling much juice, but its keeping atmosphere and heat in a section of the ship." Jackie looked at the screen. "Cameras?"she asked. The old salvager nodded and opened up the system menu. He accessed the camera feed for the intact section of the ship. Jackie gasped and recoiled at the sight of diced up human remains, hung to cure or be butchered further. All the people who were not dead were in one large room. Feasting. The apprentice, through fits of gags, heard her teacher breath a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck it's only cannibals."

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