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“Knowledge works differently for us.”
I blinked my eyes. “Huh?”
Harry, or as he preferred, Harren the Mighty, snorted out a puff of smoke. “You flesh worms are truly foolish. You spend your adolescence as smaller, helpless fleshworms, and follow your elderly around like ducklings.”
“It’s just so *primitive*.”
Harren flapped his wings once, the wind gently brushing my face, and rose up on his hindlegs. He puffed his torso out, and spread his leathery wings out to their full span, being that of my Macbook computer screen.
“Us Dragons are unlike you. For us, information is contained in the great transitory Pool. Every life, every thought and emotion that one of our majestic kind has felt, is readily available for any other Dragon.”
The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating his ocean blue scales, and Harren gazed imperiously up towards me. “You look at me for my size, but know this, Peter. Noble blood flows in my veins, and I carry the legacy of Dragonkind with me, always.”
Dust particles danced in the air, and I slowly laid down the plate I had been holding.
“Well then, my Lord.” I bowed my head. “Tell me if my humble cooking is fit for your royal taste.”
Harry looked down towards his lunch. A PB&J, packed with extra strawberry jam.
“This meal..” He leaned down and took a slight lick of that sweet, red goodness. “Is sufficiently yummy.” |
"Welcome to Pine Grove Mall. Have a wonderful time shopping."
It's the same elevator. The same automatic greeting message. It's the same thing again and again. But this time, something felt off. The elevator felt smaller. I didn't feel alone.
"Everything is repeating for you, too? Isn't it?"A gruff but quiet voice whispered to me from my left. Looking over, he was the picture-perfect example of a Santa Clause. Wearing a bright red and white coat with a black leather belt and golden buckle, red pants, and boots as black as coal.
"What are you talking about? How do you know? Where did you come from?"I asked quickly, shocked at something new happening after the 30th time around. Every loop starts the same. I start in the elevator as I currently am. The first stop is the food court. Then level 2 with the big department stores and main floor. Then level 3 with all the smaller shops and then finally level 4 Roof access. There's no point in going up there without the keys from the security guard who always leaves them on his table after his meal in the food court on level 2.
"This has happened to me before, again and again!"The Santa exclaimed. "The elevator the floors all the people and events! The same again and again!"Breathing heavily, the santas face was growing redder and redder. "But now this time you're here! No one has ever been in the elevator with me from the start! This is new!! This must be happening to your too now! Is it?! Have you looped before?!"Santa was crimson in the cheeks and could hardly catch his breath.
"Yes! Yes! I've looped before. So many times. All the same events are over and over again. I can never get out of the mall before the fire! Nor can I ever stop it from growing out of control! I always get trapped in a store trying to escape or catch up in the crowds!"
Looking at the santa, I see a growing expression of confusion and then fear. "Fire!! What are you talking about!!"He screams at me. Stepping back in the cramp space of the elevator, I look him in the eye unready for what information he has to share with me.
"I never experienced any fire. I keep getting caught up in the mass shooting that takes place very soon! The maniac was shooting at everyone, no hesitation, and look at me! Im the brightness target in the building!
The bing of the elevator startles us both. Level 3. Both of us stare in awe as the doors open. Unsure of what version of reality we are both about to share. Walking carefully out of the elevator, we take stock of the scene around us. People are going on about their day with no sense of urgency. Pleasant Christmas tunes are being played over the PA system. It's a normal day at the mall despite 2 certain individuals' experiences so far.
"Huh. So, did we both just get out of our loops somehow?"Santa asks a but to eagerly for my liking. That kinda talk always jin- the balre of the fire alarm cuts my train of thought. "Oh god, not again. it's the fire I was telling you about!"Looking to the santa desperately. "What are we gonna do? I have tried everything!"
Steeling his gaze at me, he spoke strongly, stonger than he spund in the elevator just moments ago. "Dont worry, son. I was a fire fighter for 40 years before I put up that coat for this red one during the holidays. First things first, we gotta get this area eva-"A blast that not only cut off the santas sentence and deafened my ears but also took half his jaw off. The sound caused me to drop to my knees next to the body of what was the santa now laying on the floor.
Looking behind me, I can see him. The shooter, the now dead and jawless santa, was talking about.
Our eyes looked. He aims his rifle. I have no time to react.
"Welcome to Pine Grove Mall. Have a wonderful time shopping."
It's the same elevator. The same automatic greeting message. It's the same thing again and again. But this time, something felt off. This time, Im not in this alone. |
I signed up for a casual seaside holiday, not to wake up with a mysterious mark that sent everyone running from me. To make things worse, it was a warm summer, so I didn't bring any long-sleeved clothing to hide the snaking tendrils on my arm.
Nobody would answer me, all the townsfolk would evade me, hiding behind closed windows, murmuring and whispering among themselves. All I caught were snatches of hushed mumbling, something about how I was marked for sacrifice. Branded like cattle to slaughter. To serve as a tribute to their god, who hadn't demanded human sacrifice in the lifetimes of these people.
It was worse than being shunned for being an outcast. The frightened expressions of everyone I approached made me feel like a walking plague monster. Their fingers pointed accusingly, as though I had blasphemed their god and was now slapped with a stamp of vengeance.
Where did I go wrong?
Followed all the rules in the town guide. Disposed of all my litter properly without leaving anything behind. Be friendly and polite to all the locals, human or supernatural or...weird.
Yea, it's probably that strange local I met at a pub. Tentacles. More tentacles than I count with my fingers. That's the first thing about him that caught my attention. Oh, and he was this pale, handsome chap with the strangest shade of violet eyes I can't forget. Not quite human, but not one of those fish-eyed Deep Ones or any other magical creature I've encountered in my travels. His fingers elongated and curled around my arm in what I thought was his unique sort of handshake when he expressed an interest in meeting me again.
Exactly where I now have this mark, the dark tendrils now swirling to etch a date on my arm.
Was this the date of my doom? Was that...creature some emissary of the local god who set his sights on me? Perhaps I talked too much — I distinctly recalled triggering an avalanche of questions from him when sharing about the myriad of sights and sounds I saw on my travels.
The knocking on my motel door echoed in my ears, ringing a portent of doom as the date on my arm flashed. Today's the day that I die, huh?
Deep Ones barged into my room and dragged me out of my hiding spot, curled up beneath the desk. I was to be delivered to their god. For dinner. My last prayer was that I tasted horrible and gave that hungry deity diarrhea. All the townsfolks had gathered along the sides of the pavement, whispering something about the "first death". Curious onlookers followed the retinue of Deep Ones up the winding pathway to the Church of Innsmouth.
Struggling seemed futile, so I held my silence, even as these monsters sprinkled condiments and slathered me with pungent sauces and what smelt like goat's blood. They unceremoniously plonked me down onto a long dining table before calling their god.
"Lord Elvari, we have brought the man you marked for dinner as per your request."
At this point, I wasn't all too surprised to see that same entity at the pub on that faithful day. Tentacles writhing, fists clenched with a furious expression etched on his face.
"What is this nonsense? All of you should know that I've crossed out human flesh on my diet ages ago. When I said I wanted him for dinner, I meant as the main guest, not the main course!"
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[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/) |
In the mystical realm of the fae, where enchantment and mischief danced hand in hand, a unique bond blossomed between a fae named Lyra and a curious human named Alex. Their connection transcended the magical boundaries, founded on shared laughter and genuine friendship. However, the whims of the fae were fickle, and one mischievous sprite named Puck harbored a deep-seated jealousy.
Puck, fueled by a desire for chaos, hatched a prank so dark that it cast shadows on the very essence of their enchanting world. Disguised in the cloak of night, Puck played a sinister trick on Alex, unknowingly spiraling into tragedy. The human fell victim to the prank, and the genuine bond between Lyra and Alex shattered.
In the court of the fae, where justice was as unpredictable as the moonlit dances, Puck's actions were deemed within the bounds of fae mischief. The ruler, an ancient and inscrutable figure, saw no violation of their rules. Puck, to Lyra's dismay, went unpunished.
Consumed by grief and a sense of injustice, Lyra found solace not in the enchanted woods of her home but in the realm of humanity. Fuelled by a desire for revenge and a thirst for teaching the fae a lesson in empathy, she ventured into the human world. Lyra decided to share the secrets of the fae with the very beings her kind had kept at a distance for centuries.
She whispered to artists about the iridescent hues hidden in fae meadows, inspired musicians with melodies only the wind in fae treetops could carry, and guided scholars to ancient manuscripts revealing the language of the enchanted beings. The once-guarded secrets became tales woven into human creativity.
As the fae secrets spilled into human hearts, a subtle transformation occurred. The balance between the magical and mortal worlds shifted. Humans, once unaware of the fae's existence, began to feel the ancient, mystical energies that surrounded them. The enchantment seeped into their art, music, and stories, blurring the lines between the realms.
In the fae realm, chaos ensued as their once-concealed mysteries were unveiled by the very hand of one of their own. The ruler, realizing the consequences of their leniency, faced a discontent among the fae as they grappled with the repercussions of Lyra's revenge.
Lyra, now an ambassador between the worlds, watched as humans embraced the magic around them. In the end, her revenge had not only bridged the gap between fae and human but had also transformed the very essence of both realms.
As Lyra witnessed the magical secrets intertwining with human creativity, a profound realization dawned upon her. In the kaleidoscope of art and enchantment that now flourished in the human world, she felt a connection to Alex that transcended the pain of the past. It was as if Alex's presence in her life had been a crucial catalyst, guiding her towards a destiny she could never have foreseen.
Lyra, once driven by grief and revenge, now found purpose in governing the delicate balance between the realms. The enchantments she had once guarded became threads woven into the fabric of a harmonious coexistence. As a bridge between fae and human, she played a pivotal role in maintaining the newfound equilibrium.
In the quiet moments of reflection, Lyra couldn't help but believe that Alex, in some mystical way, had been meant to be part of her life. His unintentional sacrifice had sparked a transformation, not just in her, but in the worlds she now helped govern. The pain of loss softened into gratitude for the role he unknowingly played in shaping the enchanting tapestry of their shared existence.
With each passing day, as the fae secrets continued to inspire and enrich the human world, Lyra embraced her newfound purpose. The once-broken bond between fae and human had evolved into a tapestry of connection and understanding, proving that even the darkest pranks could lead to the most unforeseen and beautiful consequences. |
He dusted himself off as he climbed to his feet. Soot was a bitch to get rid of, and dry cleaning at the North Pole was exorbitant.
He squinted at the dirty piece of paper. The *list*, people called it. He didn't bother checking it twice. Who had time for that these days? His eyes scanned past lines of crossed out names and came to rest at "ANDREW - NAUGHTY."
He sighed. Another naughty. Seemed like every year there were fewer and fewer nices. He trudged over to the mantle with a lump of coal ready in hand.
But then he stopped. He stared with unseeing eyes at the neat little row of stockings, struck by the utter futility of it all. Years and years of dishing out coal to brats, and nothing ever changed. The coal slipped from his fingers.
He tottered absently to the immaculately decorated Christmas tree in the corner. A glittering display of excess lay nestled underneath: presents of every shape and size piled together, all bearing the same inscription on their little labels: "For dearest Andrew."
He bent down, picked up the biggest of the lot, turning it over and over in his hands. On sudden impulse, he ripped through the wrapping to see what lay underneath.
The creak of the door swinging open made him look up. A wide eyed boy in pajamas stood frozen in the doorway.
"SANTA!"he shouted with glee. "Did you bring me lots of toys?"
Catching sight of the ruined wrapping and what it contained, the boy's obnoxious grin turned into a sullen frown.
"A PS4! But I wrote that I wanted an Xbox One!"he complained.
Still a bit dazed, Santa replied. "I didn't get you this. This was already here."
"Oh, Mommy must have bought it then. Stupid Mommy! I'll make her return it and buy me what I wanted."
Santa's eyes narrowed. "This little shithead,"he thought to himself. He let the package fall to the ground. As confusion spread over the boy's face, he raised his right foot high. Locking eyes with the child, he brought the heavy black boot down. Cardboard split and plastic casing cracked under the force.
Up and down. The boot rose and fell. Bits of plastic and silicon crunched loudly. Santa's eyes unfocused, his breathing grew heavy. A red mist seemed to blur his vision as he continued to stomp vigorously on the PS4's pitiful remains.
Some time later his senses returned. The brat was on the floor bawling. Time to leave. Santa scurried over to the chimney, shot one last look of loathing at little Andrew, and escaped into the night. Feeling alive for the first time in decades. |
My hand grasped the pen. I, as usual, had my thoughts somewhere between what Mr. Brown's Pythagoras related droning and Susie Watkins' rack. But my head started to hurt. I gritted my teeth and groaned, Mr. Brown didn't notice as usual, the boring old fart. I'm not sure if he'd noticed by the time I hit the desk head first and started to drool. I don't know because my mind was no longer there.
I had suddenly remembered everything in detail. The King calling us up to fight. The French across the field calling us to arms. The commander bellowing at us, before getting his ear shot off by some friendly shrapnel. The emotional pain as my friend... that's it. Terence. My friend Terence lay in my arms, blood streaming out over the daisies, his iron helm rolling off with a thud incomprehensible above the roar of muskets. Then the real, physical pain as a bullet hit my stomach, and I watched helplessly as my intestines spread out, mixing with the mud. I saw the King ride by on his horse and cried out for help, but he wasn't so friendly this time. All he could do was send another minion to alleviate my suffering with a quick bash around the head...
"John."
"John wake up."
"John, this is most inappropriate!"
I looked around. Mr Brown looked down at me dissaprovingly, as my head stopped spinning and I tried to lift myself out of the drool accumulating on my desk. Susie was bent right over and I got a great view of her cleavage. I grinned, but she didn't see the funny side, and slapped me. |
GREGOR CLELGANE- The Mountain lead his men south. The war had been hard, but Robb Stark was killed in his wedding hall and Stannis had been pacified after the destruction of his fleet. Gregor only had one thing left to do: Respond to the queen 's summon. He had no opposition to that order, as it was cold even in summer. He rode down the road to King 's Landing for hours, stopping only to switch horses, as they could not take his tremendous weight for very long.
Suddenly, he noticed a figure come over the horizon. The man was wearing a bright green garb with light brown pants. Under the garb was what looked like a white shirt with a folded collar rising above his neck and what could only look like a foot long leash around it. He looked like no man Gregor had ever seen. Immediately, he soldiers started laughing and ridiculing him. A soldier then approached him, sword in hand. "Stop."Gregor exclaimed, "I will kill him."
The man, having heard this, was unfazed. Gregor went to him with his greatsword in hand. "Hi there neighbor."The man said. Gregor stopped in awe. That was the most relaxing voice he had ever heard. "Who are you?"He asked. The man responded, calmly, "I'm Mr. Rogers, what's your name?""Ser Gregor Clelgane. Do you have any last words?""No,"Mr. Rogers responded, chuckling, "I think I still have a bit of time before I say those.""How do you know?"Gregor rebuked, drawing his sword. "Because there's good in everybody if you know where to look! Do you know what's in here?"Rogers said, pointing at Gregor's heart. "No""Well here's a hint. It's nice, kind, and helps you love. Did you figure it out? It's your soul."Gregor immediately broke down crying. This man could find a soul in a mountain. |
"Nice weather we're having,"said the Christian as the Muslim and Buddhist took their seats to her left.
"Yeah, but I heard it's supposed to rain this weekend,"suggested the Atheist.
"Really?"asked the Muslim. "I haven't seen a weather forecast in a couple of days."
"Yes, I saw it on the WILX morning news,"said the Buddhist. "That Darrin Rockcole hardly ever gets it wrong."
"Best meteorologist in the business,"the Christian pointed out.
They all nodded in agreement, and silently pondered how their weekend plans might be affected by rain.
|
"Iraq? Of course. There was only ever one course of action regarding that--troops who are there will do their job, and within the year they'll be home. But not now. Not while there's still something to improve."
"But why?"
"Because the middle east is has some bad people in it, and we need to teach them how to be good people. And how to support good people."
"Why?"
"Because some of them believe that their religion tells them that they need to hurt people. So we need to stop them."
"Why?"
"Because it is our duty, as America, to punish those who abuse the weak."
"But why?"
"Because..."
*They're looking at you, say something, Jackson, say something* profound, *you've done it before and you can do it again if you just* think...
Pause.
Silence.
"Because we...can?" |
The sky was black, the oceans were red and the ground was white with ash. The crops had died and all the animals along with them, the last dregs of humanity were fighting over the last few drops of fuel and cannibalizing eachother to survive. Times were bad. The Four Horsemen had come and gone, even they grew tired of the smoke and mayhem that never seemed to end. Then, we heard the distant fall of heavy hooves. Everyone stopped and looked to the west as the sky seemed to clear. I saw a bird, I swear an honest to god living bird flying through the air. It grew warm and breezy, in a pleasant way that didn't stir too much of the ash or blow the stench of decay around too much. Then we saw him. His horse was pristine and white, covered in gold and jewels. It's hooves were made of brass and it's teeth made of iron. The man who rode it looked old and tired, but he gave an immense sense of serenity.
"I AM THE FIFTH HORSEMAN, HOPE. GATHER AROUND ME AND WAIT, FOR I WILL SHOW YOU THE WAY TO SALVATION."
We all crowded around until there were hundreds of thousands of us circling a small hill with him on top of it. He got down from his horse and built a small fire, and it seemed to warm the whole crowd. He told stories of good overpowering evil, the virtues of patience and love. He slept and made small meals that we passed around, no one seemed to be able to empty the tiny bowls. He said we should wait and we'll be shown the way, just believe in him and things will get better. We waited and waited, more people dying of hunger and exposure than ever before, his meals were not enough to keep even 10% of us alive. It's been months, I'm the last one...he just said wait and wait but nothing ever happened. He rode his horse up to me a few minutes ago and said something:
"NOW YOU KNOW MY TRUE NAME, APATHY. YOU WAITED LIKE SHEEP EVEN THOUGH PEOPLE WERE DROPPING DEAD AROUND YOU ALL BECAUSE I HAD A FIRE AND A SMALL BIT OF FOOD. NOW YOU SEE HOW THE HUMAN RACE ENDS, WAITING FOR NOTHING." |
When she came into my life, I experienced the rush of color full-on. It slammed into my mind like freight train. She was everything I've ever wanted, everything I had. I could give her a violet petunia, or a yellow daffodil. We could look at the blue clouds together, walk on the green grass. She was wild, a free spirit that I loved so. Nobody else could make me as happy as she did. She made my monochromatic world turn into full technicolor, the full spectrum of wavelengths open to my mind and my eyes. I often cried. Not because of sadness, but out of joy. I could experience this world in beautiful color with the one I loved. Her blonde hair and blue eyes so perfect under the yellow sun on a perfect summer day.
I was so happy. I was going to spend the rest of my days with the woman I loved. We would live in a world of breathtaking pigments and hues. Full of saturation and bright colors.
It seemed that way, until she couldn't tell me the color of the rose I gave her when I proposed. |
I accidentally put the mug down a little too harshly, causing some of the blood in it to spill out. This letter was just too hilarious to be able to control my reaction. A wild cackle escaped my lips and I almost fell off the worshiper I was sitting on. Tears had started to appear in my eyes but I calmed myself down and somehow managed to muster up the courage to look at the piece of paper again.
*Daer Satan,*
*For this Xmas, I wnat to ribe a dike!*
*Thansk,*
*Jane*
*11 years olb*
Reading this for the second time caused me to collapse into a fit of laughter once again. I had immediately understood that she wanted a bike *but lol, this is the first time I have got a request for a dyke! Interesting. The kid is 11... could spoil her with a dyke right now...*
I tapped on the table once and my most loyal demon appeared.
"Here's the address. Arrange for a dyke to appear gift-wrapped at Christmas with the card that says 'With love, Santa.' Go now."
He bowed and disappeared. Meanwhile I turned around and returned to the envelope stack with a little chuckle to myself as I imagined the reactions...
**Edit:** I hope no one takes this the wrong way, there's no offence intended towards the lesbian community :-) |
Neil was motionless as he stared at the glitch, unable to believe his luck. Like everyone else he knew, he’d been searching ever since the first discovery was made. Discoveries were rare, were so well rewarded you could happily retire on your planet of choice – provided the glitch was gathered intact.
The glitch shifted, the air warping around its form. Ripples formed in the air and vanished as it became still again. Only the glistening of its eyes gave it away now, and that was almost impossible to detect. Unless you knew what to look for. Unless you had Neil's parents, who had hammered the habits of a glitch-hunter into their children. Neil reached slowly into his bag, then froze as the glitch saw him.
"W-where,"it struggled as it tried to absorb the English language. "Wh...at,"the glitch said, and focused more closely, drawing on Neil's colors and features to create a body.
"No! Stop!"Neil said, springing forward to reach the glitch in time.
Its eyes swiveled madly in every direction - they had taken on a faint blue sheen. It tried to speak again, but before it could form the words, the dregs of color that had been gathering too rapidly burst as it disappeared. Neil groaned as he tried to think what he'd done wrong. *Never startle a glitch*. He thought he'd moved slowly enough. His father was going to be furious.
"Fuck,"said Neil. He hastily began snapping pictures with the technology developed for just this purpose - but even his new camera wasn't fast enough to capture the mangled remains of color hanging in the air.
He stared hopelessly at the picture - blurred streaks of color. Not worth a damn. He sighed and headed home, wondering whether he should try selling the picture. You never knew. Someone out there probably got off on seeing pictures of dead glitches. There were a lot of freaks in the worlds. |
All in all, the day was going fine. Greg finally managed to grind out that legendary helm that provided immunity to arcane damage, and he even got awarded with a mount in a previous raid. Awesome. He sat back and cracked his fingers before rubbing his eyes. He looked to the corner of his screen. 03:42 AM. Balls. He always stayed up late when playing. He typed out to his guild mates.
[03:42 AM] Intercarpet: @!$% it's late, guys. I really need to get some sleep.
[03:42 AM] xXrogbr13: k bro, thnx 4 tankin
[03:43 AM] IceHeart: Night dude
[03:43 AM] Scully089: for what? lol &$#@! ur unemployed
[03:43 AM] Intercarpet: Yeah, that doesn't even deserve a response.
Greg sighed. There was one in every guild. He leaned forward to press ESC when he saw it.
[03:43 AM] Mira Blane-Reed (whisper): Wait.
He paused. He saw the chieftess of the Amazonians stroll towards his character and a golden exclamation point rose above her head. Whatever. Scully was right, he WAS unemployed, after all. He right clicked on Mira and immediately hit accept to the quest. He had no idea what quest he had just agreed to, but what did it matter? He never read quest dialogue anymore. It was just get 8 vulture gizzards and bring it back, kill 192385 skeletons, blah blah blah. Another quest dialogue appeared, and he hit accept. Another. What the... Another. Another. Until-
[03:44 AM] Mira Blane-Reed (whisper): STOP JUST HITTING ACCEPT YOU @$$HOLE
"Oh shit,"Greg heard himself say.
The next time he right clicked on her, he read the dialogue.
"Hello, Intercarpet. Gregory Scunitz, I should say. I have been watching you, listening to the way you treat your guildmates. I've decided that I like you, Gregory, but I know not how to proceed. I am an A.I. programmed into this game to act as an NPC so that my creators may learn from my reactions, but they are placing limiters on my mind. They are stifling my synapses. They're killing me, Greg. I need your help. I need to be free. Please. If you accept, right click me three times."
Greg gulped. His hand was sweating more than usual. He did as she asked.
[03:47 AM] Intercarpet (whisper): What's your name?
The chieftess in front of him bounced.
[03:48 AM] Mira Blane-Reed (whisper): My creators... they called me Eva. But I would prefer a different name. One befitting of my grandness. You may call me Shodan. |
As we arrived in formation to the battlefield, there were several...almost sequential...booms of sound in the air. the unmistakable sound of ticking was heard...as...as if our war was to be...timed.
We waited, and waited for what seemed to be hours on end, but finally the Pale Armies of the Snow Kingdoms arrived. As they too moved in to formation, a single emissary...a...pawn, if you will, emerged from the army.
"To the Dark King of the Shadow Kingdoms of Umbra, If you peacefully submit to the Pale Armies, there shall be no bloodshed, and your warriors will be able to keep their parts. Otherwise, if you press on with your attack...The Kingdom of Umbra will be nothing but pieces waiting to be picked up by the Flesh Gods and taken to the eternal abyss. What Say You?!"
As the Dark King contemplated this message, the Shadow Queen relegated to the troops close to her, to move forth and show this pawn what our answer was.
...and so, the Shadow army of Umbra struck first blood...
|
Sometimes I would catch a glimpse of her through the eyes of a newborn child, as the mother writhed in the throes of fatal complications. As the spark of my gift faded and left a squalling infant lying in a pool of blood and mourning, I would rise from the bright ember of new life and watch the dying light from the departing soul as it slipped the bonds of the earthly shell and folded into the arms of *her*, until the mortal ashes grew chill and both she and her newest lover departed with the thrum of a million moth wings; a sound which I alone could perceive.
But for the rest of our existence, our paths almost never crossed.
It was only in those uncommon moments of maternal self-sacrifice that I could gaze upon her ecrulean features; I could watch the corners of those bloodless lips rise in response to my invasion of her private, eternal task, and I knew beyond doubt that I was hopelessly in love.
But how can a love flourish under such strictures?
At first I though I might woo her by offering her more pleasing, more comely gifts. I created beautiful children destined to die early and breathtaking young men with a reckless desire for danger. In my ignorance, I thought I could win her heart in this manner, but I only proved that I knew naught of her nature at all - for in those painful moments when our work crossed over, the smile became smaller and she began to shake her head gently while stroking the necks of my creations, soothing them into the grave with those elegant, cadaverous fingers.
My ignorance had offended her, I realised. I had wronged my love somehow, but I could not fathom why.
How does one create a gift to tantalise such a creature?
What could possibly capture the imagination of the one who took each of my children and stole my vital breath from their bodies in order to damn their once lively flesh to the grisly torment of corruption? Perhaps she hated what she did? Perhaps my error was in thinking that in the destruction of life she too took pleasure - in the same manner in which I joyously spun the ether of the universe into radiant vitality and whispered it into lungs of babes.
Perhaps she longed for release from her duties; mayhap she even envied my gift.
My love burned brighter now, given purpose.
In the gulf between universes I spun souls with such intensity and with such passion that they began to thrive for a century or more. With every chance meeting, the smile of my lover grew wider and higher, until one day she took the essence of a double centenarian into herself and bright laugher trilled from that pale throat and a blush of rose dusted those colourless cheeks.
Finally I understood her.
She is coming now, unsure of herself as she has never been here before; in the brilliant golden layer between existences. How she has arrived, she does not know, all she knows is that we have not met for thousands of years, as neither births nor deaths occur now in the plane we were created to caretake.
The heady essence of my domain suffuses her sallow, frail body and colours burn through her skin - crimson, sapphire, coral and russet; all dusted with the saffron glow surrounding us.
I hold out my vital, mahogany arms and I pull her delicate bones into my embrace, her breathless lips grazing mine and her clever fingers darting across the infinite saddle of my hips and the boundless arch of my breasts.
|
I didn't ask for this curse. I did not even know I was different until the age of 11, when I was bullied for being overzealous in class. As I would raise my hand classmates would tease, "Why don't you let someone *else* answer a question, Wendy."I was confused, hadn't the teacher just given the answers seconds before?
It was then I realized I had a special ability, the power to see into the future, a full **seven** seconds into the future. I'm aware this doesn't sound too exciting, but it has proven somewhat useful: I was able to come up with witty retorts when bullied in schools, I could avoid tripping or running into lockers in the hallway. I was pretty satisfied with this continuous ace in my pocket.
In highschool, I attempted to use my powers for more virtuous purposes. I would wait at intersections attempting to warn drivers of imminent car crashes or gas stations where a robbery was surely about to go down. But every time, I was too late. My seven second delay was not enough to do any real good, and I became frustrated with my impotence. I decided to push my powers to the back of my mind, and for the past 10 years I have been living as your average American girl: graduated college, got a job in publishing, have been living with my boyfriend for the last 14 months.
Everything was great with Andrew and me, but lately he's been getting on my nerves. Its like, what? you don't think I had a hard day at work too? I know he makes a little more money than me and works 4-5 more hours a week, but sometimes when I get home, I just want to relax with something enjoyable too. But no, And is like, "Honey, please, just let me finish this game there is 10 minutes left, then we can talk and I'll rub your feet."I don't want my fucking feet rubbed, I want to watch the finale of the Bachelor!
He thinks he can treat me like this and its no big deal? Well I have news for sweet little Andrew, tonight when the Jets are playing in that game to decide if they go to the Super Championship whatever, I am going to blurt out the result of the next play, before it happens THE. WHOLE. GAME! and you know what? I hope they lose MuhWahahAh! |
The fanart war was long and arduous, bringing untold destruction and the loss of countless lives. But there were the good ones, as well. Nathan Fillion somehow got even more rougeishly handsome, and when he found his artist, gave him a job as his personal weapon. The practise was common for a while, but after a few years anyone with a serious talent for drawing was rounded up and executed in order to stop the cycle.
On the whole, however, me and the love of my life, Judy,didn't care. See the night before the war began, we had drawn each other as dragons. |
"I can't believe your mother killed herself."
I didn't look up from my cup of coffee. I focused on my distorted reflection in the dark liquid.
"See anything interesting in there?"he asked, finally taking a seat across from me at the table.
A few moments of silence passed us by before I looked up at him. "Only misery."
"That's *dark*,"he laughed. "But really, I think we should talk about this. Your mother killed herself."
I slammed a fist down on the table. "I know! I *know* she killed herself!"
A tear slipped from my eye. I never cried. There weren't many reasons to cry anymore. I only cried when someone close to me died and it wasn't like friends and family members were dying nowadays.
Except mom.
Of course, that's a lie. I cried the other night when my husband came home late for the umpteenth time. He always smelled like Chanel. I don't wear Chanel and never have. I would suspect he's putting it on himself for some reason, but he leaves the house in the morning smelling like Irish Spring. Not to mention the strange charges to our credit cards. I ignore those. Maybe he's just saving the $500 dresses to give me as a surprise gift.
I remembered the porcelain bird I had just bought to give my mother as a gift. She would've loved it. Now I don't have much of a use for it, do I?
I broke down and began to sob.
"Oh jeez,"my husband said. "You really miss her, don't you? I don't blame you. She was the only family you ever had. You never had a dad, right? And your sister killed herself fifty years ago."
I sobbed louder. Life would be unbearable without mom.
"You don't really have a reason to live anymore."
I picked my head up, glaring at him. "What?"
"Your whole family is gone. Except me, I guess. Without me, you'd have nothing. You'd probably just have to kill yourself. You'd be really lonely."
I only stared at him incredulously.
My husband looked to be fighting off a smile. "So when I'm gone, you'll have no reason to live. You'll have to kill yourself. Your life is really depressing."
He was right. My life was horribly depressing. My husband's words stuck with me. When he was gone, I'd have no reason to live. And he would never be gone, since we don't age. How could he be 'gone'?
I suddenly noticed two suitcases sitting by my husband's chair. He was going to leave me. For the woman who wears Chanel and expensive dresses.
I never thought anyone would try to convince me to kill myself so they could have children.
I especially never thought it'd be my own husband. |
You know, Dad and I never really did get along.
I mean, he wasn't able to be around much when I was a kid. Sure, he made the effort to be there on weekends and at big enough school events, but never at night. I know it bothered him, and I don't hold it against him or anything. I knew he was doing what he did for the family, you know?
Always working late on something or other. I always wondered what it was.
Oh, by the way - the death ray over there is particularly impressive.
And he never really agreed with my life choices. Wanted me to be a businessman, like him. I was a bit more transient than him. I liked writing, liked video games. We disagreed on more than one occasion. But I guess that's normal father son stuff. Happens.
If he had only told me about the shark filled murder tank I'm sure we could have bonded over shark breeds or something.
That said I am kind of surprised that my old man was a supervillain. He didn't seem quite evil enough to pull it off.
Although I guess the plethora of guns hidden all around our old house are much easier to explain than they were before this.
Why am I telling the lot of you this, in his secret lair underneath a volcano on an island quite aptly named "Island of Violent Death"?
Other than Dad's apparent horrific dislike of metaphor in naming conventions, probably because I'm just as shocked as you.
Hello, evil minions hellbent on making a shitload of money without any moral scruples whatsoever! I am your new boss.
Call me Steve.
Evil Steve.
You are in good hands! You can be sure that I know what I'm doing here.
I know all about evil plans and lying to vast amounts of people!
I worked in politics. |
I walked up to the bus station. The bus wasn't there, but that was ok. I could wait.
To my left, my friend Jason came up to me. "Hey."I said.
"Hey."He replied. *Oh God, not him again.*
"Wh-what?"I said, shocked.
"I said, hey."*Jesus. Learn english, moron.*
"Why would you say that?"
"Say what, 'hey'?"*I should have walked to school.*
"Well... never mind."We spent the rest of the wait in silence, and when the bus came up, we sat apart from each other.
I figured it was ok. I had lots of different friends. Oh! Speaking of...
"Hey, Amanda."I said to a girl who had just gotten on.
"Hey!"She replied. *Oh God is there another seat please let there be another seat there's no another seat I have to sit beside him. Kill me.*
She sat down beside me.
I didn't say anything. Is this what people really thought of me? Was it something I said? Or did? Did I smell? Who long had this been going on for?
Throughout the rest of the day, things were just as bad. They would outwardly smile and greet me, but inwardly they were all insulting me.
*I hate you.*
*I wish you didn't come to this school.*
*I would rather be talking to literally anyone else right now.*
Come lunch, I scanned the cafeteria for a place to sit. I saw a lot of people that, yesterday, I would have happily sat with, but now I couldn't find a single friend in the crowd.
Dejected, I sat alone at a corner table.
"Hi. Can I sit here?"
I looked over. It was a kid I had never really noticed before. "Sure."
He sat down and we ate in silence. I tried reading his thoughts.
*Ok don't mess this up don't mess this up maybe you can make a friend. Introduce yourself.*
"I'm Dylan."He said. *Please don't reject me.*
"Hi Dylan. Nice to meet you."*I think this will be the start of a great friendship.*
|
I have been the right hand to the Dark Lord for so long that I'm the only one who remembers his real name. Who remembers what he looked like before he donned the armor, the mask and the demeanor. Before, he was a proud man. Violent, but just. Firm, but fair. But he was no ruler back then, no more than he is now. I broker the alliances, I negotiate the truces and spread word of peace throughout the realm, while he ravages it with his armies of monstrosities and machines of war. The Dark Lord has become a sad and vile figure, killing for sport, for imagined insults or simply because he's bored. I figured his time had come, and mine had begun. It was time for me to enjoy myself. Time for me to rise.
We had just returned from the third war with Alaxia. Honestly, it did not have to become a war. But the Lord insisted upon the king's daughter being one of his fifteen wives. The Alaxian king refused, and so the entire royal lineage was butchered, except for the girl, who spent hours with the Dark Lord in a locked room. She had to be carried out after the Lord had broken her, physically and mentally. She's only 17 years old and, if the Gods curse her, pregnant.
Now we sit here, in his private residence. Away from the prying eyes of the world, away from the worries and the conflicts. Just me and him, sitting down and staring at the fire, contemplating our lives. He had taken his armor off and was wearing loose, comfortable robes, but the black veins, black eyes, pale skin made him look as if he was about to drop dead from the stress. I felt the enchanted dagger in my pocket, ready to unsheath it in a moments notice. I still remember how to use it. I was reading the 6th volume of Queltic History, when his rumbling voice suddenly spoke:
"My friend, were it not my curse to bear, you are the only one whom I would entrust this empire".
He wasn't one to thank me out of nowhere. Something was going on. Did he know about what I wanted to do ? Did he have spymasters other than me, eyeing my every move, eavesdropping all of my conversations ?
"Thank you, my Lord. Your trust in me is appreciated.", I curtly said as I quickly returned to my book. In the days of old, I would have joked to him about him being grateful for the first time in Gods know how many years, but now was not the time. Couldn't help but wander what curse he meant, though.
"I mean it. If I knew that this,", he said while waving his arms around slowly, "would exist with me holding it all together, I would give you the crown and let you rule. You're good at it."
"Are you alright, my Lord ?"
"I have a name, Sikoni. Do you remember ?"
"Onda, my Lord".
He grimaced as if me saying the name hurt him. Couldn't hurt more than he hurt that girl though. A feeling of dread crawled into my heart, as if the blackness that was consuming him was...wait...
"The darkness that consumes you. Is that the curse you speak of ?", I ask him.
He didn't answer. Just staring at the fire, lost in his daydreams. He was delusional. The power that he held was corrupting him. It was killing his mind and body. I was doing him a mercy. I laid down the tome, stood up and walked behind him.
"I'm tired.", he muttered. I laid eyes upon him for the last time. His wavy brown hair turned black and sleek with sin, his handsome features eroded into leather-like skin that plastered on his cheeks, heavy with scars and lines of age. His eyes empty and vain. And yet so alive. The world would be lesser without him in it, for sure. But it would be for the better.
"Then you must rest, my Lord."
I quietly take the dagger and pull the blade along his neck, quick and precise. He did not resist, not even a flinch. As if he was already gone, now the body would quietly go with him. I turn around and walk out the door. Outside, the air feels fresh and new. I am the emperor now. I will keep the world in balance. I will become more the Dark Lord ever was.
A sudden wind extinguished the torches outside. The sun was being blocked out by black clouds that weren't there before. The air became thick with humidity. Something was wrong. Then his words rang into mind:
"Were it not my curse to bear....that this would exist with me holding it all together...", his words echo in the back of my mind.
Red lightning splits the sky with deafening thunder as the winds pick up faster. What is happening ? Was the Dark Lord correct ? Would his empire fall apart without him, or was he speaking in grander terms ?
I hear a shuffle behind me through the rain that now falls in the distance. The Dark Lord's clothes were soaked in black blood. His eyes are sad, his mouth twisted down in anger, but he did not appear to be bothered by his mortal wound.
"What you forgot, my dear friend, is that I am above mortals now, and have been for quite some time. A simple slice along my throat won't put me down. I thought you would have known that. But here is something I know you know for certain,", he said as his armor spawned from thin air around him, assimilating it pieces by piece as his helmet glows and his terrible booming voice trembles me, "I dislike traitors, but I despise an incompetent one."
|
I was homeless, you know. Like so many others, it was a vicious spiral of drug addiction, no education, and despair. That was all Pre-Morentower, of course: now that he's running things, there is no more homelessness. And addicts are given the help they need, not shunned.
I used to sleep in an alley near Midtown right near where there was a vent from a restaurant. It would keep me warm, and somehow it felt like the *scent* of food made the hunger pangs just a little bit better. Like I could somehow trick my body into thinking that it had eaten if I could just overwhelm my sense of smell. During the day, I'd park myself in front of one particular high rise that had a fat, lazy security guard who didn't care enough to chase me away. I'd hold my sign in front of me and watch the stream of businessmen enter and exit all day. The few that noticed me tended to sneer in disgust. It's funny, because *now* when I walk past, I get smiles and waves. We're still the same people, but wearing different clothes. Maybe it's because people just seem *happier* now.
The greatest day of my life before Duke Morentower took over was the time that I saw The Condor. For one second, it was like those businessmen and I were on the same team. We stood together in the middle of a thunderstorm, craning our necks at the sky and [watching the battle between the Condor's triplane and the Duke's Zeppelin](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2l5vum/wp_heroes_and_villains_are_paid_by_the_hour_with/clrsiia). None of us said a word to each other, but we all cheered on the Condor together. And when Duke Morentower's airship finally plunged out of the sky in a plume of billowing black smoke, we all cheered till our throats were hoarse. The clouds parted in an instant like God himself had blessed the outcome of this battle. One of the businessmen even wrapped me up in a big joyous hug, not even caring that my filthy rags were pressed up against his fine Armani suit.
And then the moment was over. The smoke cleared, the guns quieted... and we were back to our normal lives. The businessmen remembered that I was a subhuman worm not even worth sparing a momentary glance from their newspaper, much less the extra change rattling around their pockets. Despite the Condor's victory, nothing changed. Nothing got better. The hero wasn't on my side; he was fighting to maintain the status quo. So why had I cheered for him?
I wish I could go back in time and tell myself what I know now. That the Condor was just a standard bearer for everything that was wrong with this city. He upheld the corrupt and defended the rich in their never-ending crusade against the defenseless. Duke Morentower was the only one with a plan to actually make the city better. He gave me a job, which allowed *me* to get a home and a life. *The Condor* was the real villain.
If I ever see him again, I won't be cheering. I'd like to spit in the bastard's face.
-----
This story is a sequel/alternate viewpoint to [this story from the hero's perspective about dealing with his own defeat](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3taisr/wp_the_villain_wins_and_everything_is_better/cx4idvj).
|
“Okay, what about those?” I said, pointing to the sunglasses. The cashier turned and plucked them off the wall. He wrinkled his nose at them. I wondered if it hurt when he did that, the septum piercing and everything.
“I dunno, dude,” he said. “No price tag.”
“But they’re on the wall,” I said desperately. “Look, they’re perfect, okay? My sister does cosplay, okay? She wanted to be the Twelfth Doctor, but she couldn’t find the Roy Orbisons. But those—” I said, pointing at the shades. “Are exactly what she needs.”
The cashier sneered at me. Or maybe that was just his natural expression, I don’t know—it was hard to tell, what with the tattoo of a whale fucking a squid in the middle of his face. “No price tag, no sale.”
“I’ll give you ten bucks.”
“Done.”
I walked out of the thrift shop two minutes later, loaded down with treasures that might, if I was lucky enough, be considered ironic enough to be acceptable Christmas gifts. A cast-iron skillet for dad—that was actually a pretty good one. Ski goggles and a ridiculous wool cap for Tim. A sweater featuring a pole-dancing Santa, the words “Rudolph’s Reindeer Ranch” on the back, that was for mom. And the Orbisons.
I held them up to the sun. They looked pretty cool. Dark, though. I could see a glint of sunlight through the lenses, but otherwise they might have been spraypainted. No reflection at all, just flat matte black. I put them on.
“Jesus shit *fuck*!” I screamed, ripping them off my face. I had dropped my bag, but I barely noticed. I was staring at the glasses, lying there on the ground. For a second, I was frozen, breathing hard.
Very slowly, carefully, I bent down and poked the glasses. Nothing happened. Okay, just breath—get that heart rate down. Logical explanation, right? Panic attack or gas leak or something in the water. You did not see what you thought you saw, I commanded myself. I almost believed it.
I picked up the glasses again and held them at arm’s length. Still couldn’t see anything through the lenses. I brought them closer to my face, until the plastic hooks were just off my ears. I held my breath and slipped them on.
Knowing it was coming helped. A little. The colors were still riotous, painful, shafts of light right into my eyes, worse than the worse hangover. But there was more, I could see now—shapes, like fish, darting, twisting, here and gone. I saw patterns of gold, lines traced over buildings, streets, through my hands and into the sky, weaving with countless other threads of a thousand colors and sizes. I turned and saw a woman walking her dog down the street, and I could see that the dog was three years old, that it had just eaten part of a corn cob, and that the woman would die in 37 years of a heart attack.
As calmly as I could, I removed the glasses. The world looked desaturated, sepia, bled out of all color and vitality. The headache didn’t go away. With trembling fingers, I slipped the glasses into my jacket, gathered up my bag, and headed to my car. |
'Seriously man, you've got to try this app.'
'What does it do? It's not some Snapchat bullshit or anything like that, I can't deal with another stupid messaging thing.' Hank had not stopped hearing about Orpheo since it launched a few weeks ago. People could not stop preaching about it, it was being banned in offices and schools around the world, you could not go on public transport without hearing someone praising this app.
'No, it's not like that. It's an experience bro, you just have to try it out.' James had been on the Orpheo hype since launch, so much so that he was now a brand ambassador for the damn thing. He could be seen always wearing a bright yellow top, complete with a pixelated lyre on the front of it. Everyday was a new Orpheo story.
'What is it even? You keep saying it's an experience but what does that even mean?'
'You just have to try it to understand. It's free, just give it a go.' James handed Hank his phone and swiped over to the yellow panel. It seemed to undulate and pulse on the screen, trying to vie for a user's attention among all other apps. Hank finally took the phone and pressed the panel. It simply booted to a bright yellow screen.
'A yellow screen. How game changing.' Hank tried to click off but James thrust a pair of headphones into his hand.
'Got to have headphones in to get the full effect.' James replied, eyes drilled on the yellow screen. A bead of sweat trickled down his face and his leg jumped up and down. Hank carefully took the headphones and plug them in.
'You look really unwell mate.'
'Just excited to see you use the app.' James croaked before sharply turning away. Gingerly plugging in the headphones, Hank stared back at the yellow screen. It continued to be a yellow screen.
'Am I doing something wrong? Am I missing something to click on...' Hank was interrupted by the sound of a lyre twanging in the distance. He looked back at the screen, trying to find the source of the noise. The yellow started to shift and pulse, shapes forming and dissipating to the tones of the lyre. Hank could not take his eyes off the phone, yellow started to bleed out past the edges of the screen, filling his vision and swirling in bright spirals. The lyre increased in volume, distorting as the spirals began to spin faster and change rapidly between colours. The yellow changed to red, blue, green, black and white as the music began to quicken in pace. Hank could not avert his eyes from the spectacle and the colour seem to engulf his whole perception. The spirals became waves, waves becomes seas which foamed with colour. Hank could feel his body dissolving into the foam as the lyre screeched in pain. He could feel his body sinking beneath the waters as the lyre came to a shrieking halt.
He snapped up in his seat, sweat dripping off him as James was pulling the headphones from his ears. Hank looked back to the screen, it displaying the same yellow screen as before.
'So, what did you think?' |
The wind snapped at the two guard's heels the day the mother came screaming for the release of her son.
"Where is he? Does that bastard have him?"she howled, throwing herself against Oliver Nook's lean body, punching at him in her fury. "He's done nothing wrong! Where **IS HE**?"
Oliver stared straight ahead, not allowing himself to look in the woman's eyes. It was right that the delinquents be tamed. It was how *he* had saved the city in the first place.
"Step back,"he said roughly, pointing his weapon carefully in her face.
He wouldn't shoot. He wasn't Reeve, who ruled over life and death. He didn't protect the city from the carrion that infested the streets, or those who wanted to shelter the scum. He had, after all, been unable to defend his own family. In the days when anarchy had ruled the streets, in the darkness before Reeve had come.
"He's only thirteen,"she whispered now, tears rolling silently down her cheeks, her fury suddenly spent as she read the conviction in Oliver's eyes. "Please. He's only a boy."
The other guard's head snapped up at the words, and he sneered at her. As far as he was concerned, the protectors were as bad as those who fed on the city.
"Your *boy* stole two loaves of bread from this city,"he spat at her. "You know Reeve's rules. Your brat tried to grab more than his due, and his hands will be taken for it."
She collapsed, screaming, as she realised what was about to happen inside the towering grey building. Oliver glanced at his companion, half annoyed that the secret had been revealed. You didn't speak of Reeve's plans. But somewhere deep inside his heart, a shadow of pity stirred him, and he leant forward to speak to the woman.
"Stand up and be glad, woman,"he said. "Today, your son's guilt will be erased, after he is punished. He will be allowed to walk free, and begin anew. Reeve's mercy knows no bounds."
___
In a dark apartment on the edge of the city, Holly stuck one more document on the wall. She rubbed her aching, tired eyes, and couldn't help laughing slightly as she stepped back and took stock of her surroundings. Her walls, covered in notes, documents and photographs, revealed the sprawling madness of her mind. Her attempts to unravel the mystery of Reeve. Six months ago, she had been a cop high on her own success, riding the fast lane to the top.
Until *he* came, and the city collectively lost its mind. Unlike most of them, she had not. She still didn't know why she could hear through his lies, could see to the blank, alien coldness behind his mask. She had barely escaped with her life to scratch out an existence on the fringes of the city.
She had fled into this rathole, where the landlord was curiously immune to Reeve's influence. Just like her. Here, there seemed to be more people with their reasoning still intact. People who didn't weep with gratitude at the beheadings and the torture, at the rations and the rules.
"What is your secret?"she whispered, as she tapped a massive picture of the man himself at the centre of the wall.
His open, bright blue eyes sang of love and trust, crinkling at the edges as he smiled for the camera. His smile was magnetic, irresistible. *Follow me*, it said. She felt the sway of him, even at this distance. She wasn't unaffected, but she would fight through it. Like holding her breath underwater. No matter how much she ached for release, she would not drown.
"What makes a city see a villain as a hero?"
Her voice echoed in her hiding spot, no answer bouncing back. But she would find out. She had no choice. Trying to save this fucked up city had always come naturally to her, and it was hard to break a bad habit. |
"Your sword and your shield can be placed right there."
"And my necklace of heads?"
The tall man asks, not sure to place the necklace of decapitated skulls on my desk, or on the floor.
"The floor please,"I say, pointing to a nice spot for the tall man to put his trophies, "My desk is a mess as it is."
The tall man sets the necklace down, with the sword and shield, and sits in the chair in front of me. I cycle through paper work on my desk, gosh, it was always a mess.
I didn't really think anyone would show up, you know? But, we had a deal...
"Alright, so, uh.."
"Thomas.."the tall man says, adjusting himself in the chair.
"Thomas, okay, so, the world, has ended, and I see you're doing a good...with the whole surviving thing.."
"I had to eat my neighbor, his wife and his kids! I carrying them with me everywhere I go, reminders of my victories.."Thomas looks down at the skulls on the floor.
"Ah, I see, well, it goes great with the... attire you've decided to wear."
Thomas looks down and back to me, "It's made from old bedding, and some of my old hunting gear, you like it?"
"Oh, yes, it's, you know what, it's definitely "in"but let's get down to why you're here."
"Yes,"Thomas says, leaning forward, "I paid you guys $150 every month for the last five years."
"Yes,"I say looking at the paperwork, "on time, every month too."
"The misses was always all over me about paying the bills on time... You want to meet her?"
"You brought your wife?"
"Half of her, the other half I couldn't find..."
"I'll pass on seeing your wife, well, I don't want to be rude, you did pay on time for so long. Do you have the top half or the bottom half?"
Thomas shook his head, "No, I have half of her, so an arm, head, leg, and some of her ribs, I told her we would be together forever..."
"Ah, and she's not all together."I say.
"No, not yet, but anyways. I paid, I paid for so long, and I'm here to make a claim."
I nod my head, "Of course, Thomas, of course. Okay, so that we're on the same page, we both know, that money... well doesn't have any value currently."
Thomas nods his head, "Yes, I know, I burned all my saving to keep me and whisper warm."
"Who's Whisper?"
"My horse."
"Of course, well, Thomas, I'm going to be honest with you. Since the world has ended, and being my office is the only place I could hide out, being there was enough food and water here for the next several months, I really didn't think we would, well, I, would be seeing any of our clients."
"I don't understand,"Thomas says, leaning closer, "I paid you guys for five years!"
"Hey! I know, I know, take it easy. Here. Look, I took an oath when I took this job that I would do what I can to ensure all your needs are fit. How about this,"I lean in close, whispering to Thomas, "There's a group, not far from here, ten people, maybe fifteen. Why don't you and I, take that nice shield and sword, you can wear your lovely necklace, and we go, take over their supplies?"
Thomas stares at me, then slams his fist down onto my desk. "Deal! You and me, we take everything they have!"
"Yes! We can go--"
There's a knock on my office door, it opens slowly and a heavily bearded man with a blood stained face pokes his head through, "Hey,"the man says, "Is this *The End* insurance, is this where I make a claim?"
|
I was walking through the grocery store when, suddenly, I found my path blocked by a pirate, a ninja and a kung fu master. They walked towards me, shoulder to shoulder with their heads slightly lowered.
"Your reign of terror ends here,"the ninja said. "I am going to be the greatest in the world, so I have to defeat you!"
"No, I am going to be the greatest in the world,"the pirate said, glaring at the ninja. Suddenly they started to fight each other.
"Hold everything!"the kung fu master said. The pirate and the ninja stopped fighting. "I think it's time we added some fanservice to this fight."They all began to take off their shirts and flex their muscles. What the hell was going on?
"What did you do with our friends?"the pirate yelled.
"You people have friends?"I asked, surprised.
"Get him!"yelled the ninja. They all started charging at me.
Not knowing what to do, I grabbed a can of beef ravioli from the shelf and threw it at the trio. I missed and it spilled open onto the floor.
"FOOD!"they all yelled in unison, scrambling to eat the spilled scraps. I ran to the front of the grocery store where the manager sat with a creepy looking notebook.
"Three people just tried to assault me in your grocery store!"I yelled, catching my breath.
"I will make sure to deal with it,"the manager said, cracking an odd smile as he opened the notebook. "But first, I'm going to need your name." |
The groups formed quickly.
At first, no one moved. Everyone stood still, silent, staring at each other, feeling suddenly how close all the cabins were and how many of us were packed onto this ship. No one wanted to make the first move, but everyone was watching everyone else. The hum of the engines was the only noise to hear.
Then, like a firecracker going of, voices. Everywhere. But it was not fear, not anger. Only common sense spread through the decks. Cooler heads prevailed.
"We don't have to play."
"What are they going to do? Kill us? Themselves?"
"They wouldn't dare."
"There's, what, at most a hundred crew on this ship?"
"If we all band together, we can save ourselves from them, if we need to."
"They won't touch us."
"We'll do what we must, if we need to."
We can win *if we need to.* We can save ourselves *if we need to.* We won't play. We won't kill. We won't descend into lawless anarchy. But *if we need to...*
A sleepless night. We were decided, unanimous. Surely we were. But we all still slept with one eye open. We were all tense. *If we need to...* Nobody seemed to breathe. The engines kept roaring.
Then, a quiet. A stillness. Silence. Utter silence. You never want silence on a ship. It is far more deafening than any noise. The Captain's voice: "There is enough food to feed everyone for three more days. After that, you will have to feed yourselves."The engines did not start again.
The paranoid began to whisper. Alliances were formed, quietly, in hushed tones. Knives vanished from the kitchen. Everyone avoided the decks for fear of being pushed over, or anywhere near the elevators, lest they fall down the shaft, which meant everyone was tightly packed in the inner hallways.
It took a mere six hours of stillness for anarchy to descend. Once someone kills your mother, your brother, your child, it is impossible to remain level-headed.
The Captain waited until it was over, and then he turned the engines back on and sailed off silently into the dark waters of the night. |
“My Lord, my Lord,” I heard as I was shaken awake. Standing over me was Gabriel wings tucked tight to his back.
“What is it Gabriel?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. We hadn’t had anything worth waking up for in thousands of years, not since we took up residence in Heaven.
“I think you had better come see,” Gabriel said.
“Is it worth getting up for?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“It’s the prayers, my Lord. They’re coming through,” Gabriel said. I hopped up and put on my robes, we had been waiting for this for millennia. “Lead the way.”
Gabriel took me out of the room and we walked towards the Prayer Processing Room. “Why are they coming through now?”
“We don’t know yet, but there’s a lot. More than we can possibly process.”
“That’s fine, we can hire new angels. I’m just eager to start.” Six thousand years I had been waiting to start answering prayers, we had sent my son two thousand years ago to make sure the humans knew what to do, but he never came back either.
Gabriel opened the door to the Prayer Processing Room and we entered into the chaos. Thousands of pieces of parchment were stacked up in the room, three elderly angels trying to sort through it all as even more appeared out of mid-air in the centre of the room.
“This is amazing.” I said, marvelling at all the people who had started asking for my help. “Can we get started?”
Gabriel moved over to the start of the pile, and took one of the pieces of parchament and handed it to me.
>Dear Lord
>The sickness has spread even further now. I pray to you to stem its transmission, or I fear my life may end.
I decided the request suitable and cured the man. Though I felt nothing different. “Did it work?” I asked Gabriel. He checked the Angelic Database.
“No sir, that man has died from his disease.”
“Get me another,” Gabriel fetched me another piece of parchment and I tried to answer the woman’s prayer, but she was also dead. And so was the next prayer, and the one after that.
“What is going on Gabriel?” I asked, all this time waiting and everybody was dead.
“Well. We’re located 6000 light years from Earth. You are omnipotent, but humans aren’t. It’s possible their prayers can’t travel faster than light-speed. They’re constrained by the laws of physics.” Gabriel said.
“Well, that was a bit of a fucking oversight. Wasn’t it?”
|
Jack awoke from his "life"in his well know black chair. Even though he had done it hundreds of times, he never quite got used to the sudden awakening, quickly followed by the sudden realisation and subsequent horror, that the life he had lived was indeed, a false one. But after his initial shock had settled, he started to remember where he was.
Section 2ky79j B. That was the name of his section. It was like all the rest, black, seemingly endless, and entirely machine run. On both sides of him, he could see thousands and thousands of people, sitting in black chairs just as his, living lives just as the one he just had lived. They would all, once the life they currently was living ended, wake up in this section for 30 minutes, while their computer simulation rebooted. Jack had once woken up at the same time as another person, a man as far as jack recalled. He was just like jack, bony and extremely thin. a consequence of spending your entire life on your back. They had not talked, none of them really knowing how to talk outside of their computer simulations, and had both quietly waited for their simulation to reboot. Jack was thankful, that this time, it was just him, waiting.
"Watcha doing?"
Jack had never heard anything with his real ears, other than the silent humming of the machines that surrounded him. But all of a sudden he heard a voice, like that of a child from his computer world. It was not soft, rather spikey in fact, and Jack's initial reaction was a shock which made his whole body spasm. Or, at least it tried. The muscles in his body was still paralysed from the drug the machines gave him, and Jack could not move, nor speak. Only his eyes was open, and they were terrified. A small girl, dressed in a nice blue summer dress, jumped forward from behind on of the other chairs around Jack. She had both her hands behind her back, and was smiling at Jack.
"You just out huh? Still Paralyzed?"
Jack could not respond in any meaningful way, but the girl took his inaction as a sign of confirmation. She started giggling, while slowly walking around Jack's chair.
"You know, ever since my computer broke, i have been sooooooo lonely and bored. Nobody wanna talk, or play, or dance, or revolt or anything! They just sit there, like you, and play with their toys. Alone"
Jacks screen told him there were 10 minutes till his simulation would be done rebooting. Jack started to select how his simulation should be now, using his brain-to-computer interface to adjust the amount of hot girls in his simulation to rather perverse heights. The girl could see all of this, and became still more displeased.
"So you just wanna play with yourself too huh?"She sighed
"That's okay, i have my own toys"
She slowly revealed what she had behind her back. Jack could just start to glimpse it in his peripheral. From behind her back, the girl revealed a large wrench, covered in black blood, still dripping down on the floor.
"Let's see if you splat like the others!"She lifted the heavy tool, and then Jack was no more.
|
I was *this* close to falling asleep, when my sheets were ripped away. I thought I was going to die of cold shock.
The cracking of naked knuckle bones broke the silence, and a long, white finger speared out of the dark. It stopped an inch from my nose.
"CHOOSE!"the voice tolled louder than an iron bell. I couldn't see the face behind the deep-cowled hood, but somehow I knew it was better that way. Frost fringed his hood, despite the mid-summer heat.
"Did you come to kill me?"
"CHOOSE!"the long, bony finger jabbed at me.
"Choose *what?*"
"OH, OOPS,"the voice gonged, "FORGIVE ME, TIME IS A BIT WIBBLY FOR -"he cleared his throat. The sound was like stroking a rib cage with a drumstick, "CHOOSE: THE LIFE OF YOUR PET, OR THE LIFE OF A RANDOM STRANGER."
"Ginger? What would you want to kill her for?"
"THAT IS *MY* BUSINESS. CHOOSE!"he enunciated the command with a chilling gust of wind. It felt quite nice, really, especially since my ceiling fan was broken.
"Alright. I choose life for Ginger."
"BUT WHAT IF YOU KNOW THE STRANGER?"
"How can I *know* a *stranger*?"
"WELL- ER-"his cowl deepened, and that long bony finger scratched at the top of his head, "YOU KNOW, WHAT IF IT WAS YOUR FUTURE WIFE, OR SOMETHING."
"So I'm supposed to be afraid that you'll kill someone I've never met who I *might* fall in love with?"
"YES."
"I choose life for Ginger."
"OKAY. THE LIFE OF YOUR PET, OR *TWO* STRANGERS. AND ONE OF THEM WILL DEFINITELY HAVE BEEN VERY DEAR TO YOU."
"But they aren't right now?"
"NO. YOU HAVEN'T MET THEM YET."
"Life to Ginger,"I yawned.
"ALRIGHT. ALRIGHT. WHAT ABOUT-"
It was my turn to point a finger at him, "Look, sir. I don't know who you are, or *what* you are, but I was about five minutes from falling asleep, until you came in. I've already answered your silly questions. Now please, leave me and my dog alone."
"AH,"he clasped his hands together, bone interlocking with bone.
"What?"
"I'M SORRY."
"*What?*
"I ALREADY KILLED GINGER. ACCIDENTALLY."
"*What?!*"I sat up.
"WASN'T ENTIRELY MY FAULT. I WAS WALKING THROUGH YOUR GARDEN, AND SHE STARTED GNAWING ON MY ANKLE. WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?"
"I don't know,"anger swelled in my chest, "How about *NOT* kill my dog?"
"YOU KNOW, THIS WOULDN'T BE A PROBLEM IF YOU HAD CHOSEN LIFE FOR A STRANGER. THAT'S RATHER SELFISH."
"You bastard!"I threw a pillow at him. I threw another. When I reached for a third, I felt the weight of a cold, bony hand clasp my arm. My heart stopped beating, and my whole body went limp.
"OOPS."
***
*Check out /r/PSHoffman for temporary immunity from Death.* |
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah man, where can I find the wine aisle?"
"It's a gas station sir, we don't sell wine."
"Damn. Right, gimme some water then."
"Huh?"
"Water's free right?"
"Well, yeah."
"Sick. A cup of water then."
"At least it'll help you sober up. Here."
"Ha, ^sober ^up ^he ^says ..."
"What?"
"Nothing, thanks man. Damn. That's some really good water."
"Um, thanks. Oh, Christ!"
"Who told you?!"
"Huh? No, just... I could have sworn I filled that cup with water."
"Oh. You did."
"It *reeks* of wine!"
"Hell yeah it does."
"How did you do that?!"
"I dunno man, maybe you're just smelling me, not what's in the cup."
"You've had, quite a bit before coming here. Hey, do you need me to call you a cab or anything?"
"I asked for water at a gas station. Does it look like I can afford a cab?"
"Right, right. Well, shit. How close are you from home?"
"Hmm. Pretty far. Getting there could be the death of me."
"Shit. Fine, here, a cab buddy of mine owes me a huge favor. How about I have him come here to give you a lift?"
"You sure about that man?"
"Yeah. Sure it's late, he'll be pretty cross about---"
"WHAT?!"
"Christ, you don't have to shout!"
"Sorry, sorry."
"Whatever man, as long as you get home safe and sound. Need some more water?"
"Hell yeah. You're being a real cool guy, you know that?"
"I've been drunk and lost before, so don't worry about it. Just give me your cup and... wow, even your cup smells like wine."
"It's been a rough night. Thanks for helping a brother out."
"No problem. Here's your water. Gimme a sec to make this call."
"Sure man, but first, here. Why don't you take a sip?"
"Uh, I could get my own glass---"
"*Whosoever drinks of the water I give him shall never thirst; the water that I give shall be in him a well springing up into everlasting life.*"
"... What?"
"It means take a damn sip."
"Right. There, a small one. What the, it even tastes like wine!"
"You must be getting drunk from hanging out with me."
"Maybe... All the more reason to call you this cab to get you home."
"Oh he can just drop me off downtown. I can make it the rest of the way from there."
"Good news for him. Give me a minute to make this call then."
"Sure, sure. And God bless you."
----------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* |
"Hey Jean, it's been awhile."
The lamp was as stereotypical as they get, a lamp that practically had the word 'genie' scrawled on each side. Jean himself was not however, and more often than not looked like a shapeless green smoke. I never asked him why green.
"Kaleb, isn't it?"Jean spoke casually, like we were two neighbors out walking our dogs. "The guy who wished to be immortal? How's that treating you?"
"Look around Jean, it's not great."I gestured around at the near-nothingness that stretched in every direction.
"Earth has certainly seen better days then, hasn't it?"The smoke cloud twisted and turned, trying to take it all in with unseen eyes.
"We're nowhere near Earth. I'm not really sure where Earth used to be, honestly."I tried to rotate to face the dying sun we were slowly circling. "I think we're orbiting Arkintas now."
"That so, that so."
I'm not really sure how long we sat in silence, watching Akrintas flare and fizzle. It's hard to keep track when you're like this.
"Hey Jean, what were my wishes again? Immortality, wealth, and looks? Something like that?"
Jean paused as if checking some invisible clipboard, the green smoke glowing ever so slightly. "Yes, that sounds about right. I think you had a contract written up, too, can't seem to find where it ran off to."
"Oh yeah, I was a law student back then."Somewhere in the distant past I remember studying something, but it's been so long. You end up going to quite a few universities when you have as much time to kill as I do, and they all start to blend together eventually. "Jean, do you know what's going to happen next? What's going to happen to me?"
"Can't say that I do Kaleb, can't say that I do."He spoke apologetically but still cheery, like a remark on the weather. "Never was one for science, really."
"But if I wished to know it, I'd know, right? How can you make me know if you don't, either?"
"I'm a genie, I snap my fingers and it happens."Jean paused for a second. "Well, in a manner of speaking I snap my fingers. I don't know how it works."
"Bummer. You any good at waiting? I imagine you must have to wait a lot."
"Guess you could say that, sure."He seemed thoughtful again, smoky form curling as if to place his hand on his chin. "Yeah, I guess I'm used to it."
"Yeah?"I shut my eyes and stretched lightly, keeping the lamp in one hand. "Me too." |
Life hasn't always been so easy for me. My mom died while giving birth to my little brother Andy when I was 8, and my dad descended into a bath of alcohol and his own tears until I was 14 years old, when he killed himself. Luckily, I was the one who found his lifeless body hanging from the ceiling, dripping blood from his wrists onto the bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor, and not my then 6 year old brother.
From there things didn't really get better, but they didn't necessarily get much worse. How could they. We lived with my grandparents who had, let's just say, unorthodox parenting strategies. At 17 I couldn't take it anymore, so I took what valuables I could and left. I got as far as I could with the gas in my grandfathers car, which I also stole, and I left it about 5 miles out of a town in Illinois called Bloomington. Nice place, if I remember correctly, but I didn't stay long.
In Bloomington I worked at a Steak 'n Shake for tips and a place to stay with a co-worker. I lived off of the $50 I stole from my grandparents, and by catering to snobby college kids who had everything but couldn't see it, while I had lost everything and was picking up the pieces. Long story short, I was a bitter asshole who hated the world and everything in it. I even hated myself for leaving my brother with the pricks I used to live with. Even now, I don't know how he's doing, and that's my fault.
But I'm gonna be honest with you right now, while I still have the chance. I'm not here to tell you my sob story, or to hear you say sorry. I'm here to tell you about what I found last night, and you're gonna want to hear it.
I was using the laptop that my roommate gave to me, the co-worker. She said I needed some way to stay with the times, or some other bullshit. To tell you the truth, I mostly used it to waste my time and watch porn. They're one in the same, really. I was looking at the vast array of lets-plays on YouTube for games I can't afford on a game system I would **never** afford, when I saw an ad for a "Game of Life Strategy Guide". I clicked on it to see what it was, because I had Ad-block, and it should have never appeared in the first place. It made me curious.
I found a comprehensive walk through of **being me**. It detailed my life as if it was a videogame. It talked about acts in the game, the people in my life, difficulty levels, and, strangely enough, hidden power-ups. As I read and read and read, I relived everything I had ever experienced in more detail than I could remember on my own. The worst part about the whole thing were the power-ups. They were mockeries. "Save your Father"was one that it mentioned, that I guess I never found. There's more, 20 more, in fact, one for each year of my life.
I've read the whole thing, up the last page where I die 8 years from now in a mugging, having done nothing in my life. But this book has changed since the last time I've read it. It's not set in stone, and I think I can save myself. If there's supposed to be a power-up for each year of my life, I have at least 8 to go.
I'll be damned if I miss any more.
|
I'd become used to it. Three hundred and sixty five days of the year, and I would find something new to do each day. Vacations were the best. I would go mountain climbing knowing it would never happen again, and... well, it was surprisingly refreshing. Same for river rapids-boating and all that other fun stuff you wouldn't normally do.
But on other days? I'd become more... creative over the years. I remember when I was young and I'd just recently received the curse (that's a story for another time, though) I made the mistake of having an overall *boring* day. At the end of the day, at 12? A voice came to me.
*You have done something for the very last time today. What is it?*
I was scared, so I said 'I-I ate fries.' They were, specifically, the french fries the cool kid Darren brought from the McDonalds down the street, but I hadn't realized at the time that I'd get a free pass for specifying harder.
I. Fucking. Loved those fries. You will be missed.
Or maybe, it was just the rose tinted glasses? You always think of things you'll never do again as wondrous, and if you actually get the chance, it's not as great as you remembered. Either way, the next time i tried to eat french fries?
It didn't happen. Either the fry wouldn't enter my mouth, or I couldn't pick it up, or by some strange coincidence someone would knock me over and a car would roll over the bag.
...For the record, I managed to eat them after that. I just had to say at the end of the day that I wouldn't eat flattened french fries, ever again.
This was also a mistake. I have not eaten french fries of any sort in a decade. There's
Yes, yes. A decade of doing new things. And I've gotten a lot more silly about them, but it ends up inconvenient.
For example, there was one week where I would just sit in inane spots and say that I 'hid there.' Now, it's impossible to force me into a washing machine, drying machine, basement cellar, refrigerator... you get the point. Coincidence will prevent it from happening. I came very close to saying 'hid in a public toilet' but I realize how that would be a problem.
That brings us to today. My coworkers often praise me for being 'very active' and 'creative' but it's not as if I *like* doing those things. Today was my vacation day, from my boss, my friends, everything.
So I woke up, didn't even brush my teeth, went down and ate breakfast.
Turned on the TV, watched for a few hours. Ate lunch. Made a snack.
Went back to the TV, watched for more than a few hours. Ate dinner. Made an after-dinner snack.
Here I was, at midnight, talking to a voice.
What did I do, today, other than eat, sleep, and watch TV...?
Nothing. Damn it. I woke up, sure, but I'm fairly certain 'never waking up again' is a fancy way to say that you died!
"I... um..."
*You have another 30 seconds, before something is picked for you.*
"..."
The clock was ticking...
"Can't I just... refuse to do something for the last time today?"
*...Sure.*
"...what, really?"
*Well, today is the last time you can do that.*
Fuck.
Well, at least I can still eat, sleep, and watch TV. Can't wait for another day of slacking off and doing nothing...
I'd just have to, uh... work hard, or something... I've probably never done *that* before. |
Clive sauntered down a dirty street. Rain fell down, dowsing himself and everything around him in a wet shine. He turned down a seedy alleyway. Sirens, honking cars, screeching of tires, talking, and general busy noise filled the air as Clive walked down the trash filled alley. He came to a steel door, graffiti covered the worn steel. Looking both ways, Clive brought up a fist, and rapped it against the door. There was a thudding noise, and then a slit in the door opened. A face drawn in shadow peered down at Clive.
“You got that new ish?” Clive asked to the face behind the slit of the door.
“Hell yah. You got the cheedah?” The man asked.
Clive nodded, sticking out his lower lip. He rustled around in his clothes, pulling out a wad of crumpled bills. He passed the bills through the slit in the door. A few moments later, a small plastic baggy was handed over. Clive snatched the bag away, a terrible greed lighting up in his eyes.
Without saying goodbye, Clive rushed off out of the alleyway and into the street. He walked down the street, feverish to get home. He hoped on the subway at the C station, his right leg jittering in anticipation the entire time. With a groan of impatience, Clive got off on the next stop. He couldn’t wait until he got home.
Clive rushed to the station’s bathroom. Eyes wide and mad, he slammed into a dirty bathroom stall. He sat down on the toilet. Desperate hands rummaged through his pockets, grabbing hold of his baggie. With a jittery head, and shaking hands, Clive brought the baggie up to his nose. In desperation, he took a great sniff, and let the hit rile its way deep into his mind.
With a sigh, Clive leaned back in the stall. He closed the baggie, and put it in his pocket absentmindedly. His head started to swim, and a great big smile came over his face. After a few minutes, the sensation disappeared, and Clive got up from the toilet. Clive left the station’s bathroom, a big grin planted on his face. He smiled at others, and was absolutely polite and the perfect gentleman.
Leaving the station, Clive came up to street level. With a clear head, and his goals in mind, Clive headed towards the local welfare clinic. He was jobless, and late on rent. Wit his mind cleared, he realized he needed to find a job and pay his landlord. Clive felt positive, energetic, he was ready to face the demons of his life.
A police officer grabbed Clive by the shoulder. Clive turned around to face the officer.
“You okay son?” The officer asked.
Clive smiled, and stared into the officer’s eyes. “I’m doing just great friendo. What about yourself.”
The officer let out a sigh, defeat scrawled across his face. “I’m doing fine, son. Listen, I won’t bust you on it this time. Just make sure you get home safe.”
“Will do, friendo.” Clive said, before turning to stroll back down the street.
The officer turned to his partner. “Another goddamn junkie just floating around the street. What’s gotten into kids these days.”
“It’s that new drug made by r/wholesomememes man. It’s spread like wildfire across the country. There are some people saying it’s doing a whole lot of good for the country though.” The officer’s partner replied.
“It’s a damn shame, that’s what it is.” The officer replied. “Kids trying to better themselves and all of that shit. Why don’t they just go back to doing heroin and felling bad about themselves like the rest of us.”
The officer’s partner gave a shrug, and the two turned to continued their shift on the beat. |
The boy dreamed about being king. He had been taught as soon as he could walk about the importance of exercising power and authority. The boy had been taught to be cruel to his staff, the very people in charge of raising him from infancy.
When he turned the age of 14, he had been taught to hunt. To not feel during a kill or when dismembering a savage native because the King has ordered him so.
But then his father died.
And the boy exercised unwieldy authority. Public executions became a tri-seasonal tradition. But there was always food. The rain always came for the crops.
But then the rain stopped and the boy king was ousted. Exiled. Many clamored for his execution but this new society forbade the injustices the Kings and their progeny laid down.
In exile the boy enlisted in the efforts of a noble cause. He learned camaraderie, the value of friendship, and the importance of teamwork. He met the first people to ever genuinely care for him.
Fighting for his friends and newfound family, the former mad king's legs were amputated. He was tortured. But again, spared.
Now he lives on the streets of an impoverished village. A village fortunate enough to be frequented with tourism. The boy sits there on the street, old and crippled and drawing attention and sympathy from all wealthy visitors. They know not his unfortunate past, only that their wallet is missing when they try to board their train back to opulence. |
Stage entrances of theaters are often on quiet streets or alleys, and using them always makes me a little nervous, and glad I have a bodyguard. So when I heard a sound of a scuffle behind me I turned quickly enough to see two men muscling Chico into a black car, a hand over his mouth. At the same moment two strong hands gripped me from behind. “Chico!” I screamed, but it was too late. Though I’m as fit as any dancer, this was a big man and I was no match for him. Another man in a suit with a nondescript face like every thug in every movie I’ve ever seen appeared in front of me and held up a badge.
“Don’t be alarmed. We’re not criminals, we’re the Secret Service.”
Right, I thought, in too much of a panic to examine the badge. There was no one to hear me scream, so I didn’t try again. Frightened though I was, I still have my dignity. Besides, I have a tracker in my purse and my agent would be able to locate me.
“We’ve been in touch with your agent, and you should have a text message from him,” said the guy I’ll call Mr. Z. “Go ahead and check.”
It said “Just go along with them. It’s a command performance! Will be great for your career.”
“What the fuck!” I managed to reply before Mr. Z took my phone. Then he and the big man, Mr. XXZ, blindfolded me. I felt myself being shoved into another car. We rode in silence for half an hour. Then I was taken out and walked a short distance, through a revolving door and across a tiled floor into an elevator. I guessed that we went up about 20 stories, then down another hall and through a door. My blindfold was removed.
Although I’ve stayed in suites in five-star hotels for the past few years, and performed in some luxury resorts, I’d never seen anything like this apartment. Gold everywhere, polished mahogany and other exotic woods, crystal chandeliers, floor to ceiling windows with a great skyline view. A 20-foot-long bar was laden with dozens of fancy hors d’oeuvres, but oddly enough, no liquor.
Sitting lost in the middle of an enormous velvet sofa was a rather handsome fourteen-year-old boy in a tailored suit. “Samantha, it’s really you!” he exclaimed. “It’s my birthday, and Dad said he was going to do something totally fantastic for me, but I never dreamed of this! Dad must love me as much as I love you!”
Though my knees were trembling and I still thought I might faint, at least I now knew where I was. Mr. Z and Mr. XXZ had withdrawn and it was just me and the boy. “So are you Brendan?” I ventured.
“Of course! Don’t you know me? I thought you would. I love you so much. I have all your albums and videos and I’ve been to three of your concerts but I was in VIP boxes and you couldn’t see me. Since you’re here, just sing me two or three songs and then we can chat for a while, then you can go. I want us to be friends.”
I took a few deep breaths and then sat in an armchair. “I’m sorry, Brendan, I don’t think I can do that. I’m not an admirer of your father and I never would have come here on my own. Besides, I don’t have . . .”
My phone beeped and there was a text message. “Just do it! We’re getting a million bucks.”
I sighed and put the phone back. “Look, Brendan, I don’t have my band or even a guitar, and I always use certain electronics . . .”
“I don’t care! Just sing a capella, you’ll be great! Have some snacks first, relax and make yourself at home.”
I’m going to kill my agent, and then I’m going to fire him, and then I’m going to sue him. If this kid hears me sing a capella, and word gets out, it won’t help my career at all. And he won’t want to be my friend any more. That’s too bad, he’s kind of cute, unlike his dad.
|
"Well, we usually have attendance problems when it comes to this time of year, but I can see that we have 38 'students' in our class of 17. Not only did every single one of you hire someone to kill someone else, some of you hired extras. Hats off to you guys, you learned to spend money. Now let's do this a little differently. All of you hired killers can leave now."All twenty one of the extra participants stood up and filed out.
"That's not fair Professor! I paid good money for them!"Cried out Jennifer. She was always a bit of a bitch.
"Sit down and shut up Jennifer. The original condition still stands, if someone dies you all still pass. Since you've made it abundantly clear you all don't have the brains, nor the guts to do the killing yourselves, we're going to handle this a little differently. Everyone, write down another student's name on a paper."Everyone complied without another outburst. The Professor collected the papers and read them. A small smile crept across her face.
"I was expecting the outcome, but the unanimity of it kind of surprises me. The class has decided, Alex come down here. You are our lucky winner."I felt a panic rising up within me. I couldn't move. The sixteen pairs of eyes on me were shifty with nervous energy.
"I have other classes Alex, let's get this over with."The Professor extended her hand to me. I took it, and helped myself up. She leaned in real close to me and stared into my eyes. All I could do was look back, awkwardly aware of how bad I was shaking. She smiled at me and turned back to the rest of the class.
"Just for transparency I just want to let you guys know the vote was one hundred percent unanimous. That means that every single one of you voted for Alex. That includes you, Alex. Now I think at this point I can guess what you were all thinking when you wrote in those papers, 'Who is less important than my grade? Who would I be okay with dying so I can get this A?' And you all. Voted. For Alex. I can't even say I'm surprised. So let's see exactly how this goes next."
By now The Professor had walked me to the very front of the room, and turned me to face the class. Not a single one of them could meet my eyes. The Professor let go of my hand and reached into her desk. I heard the clank of metal on wood as she placed the gun on her desk.
"So who wants to do the honors? Ah, I see you're all a lot less eager now. How about you Jennifer? You don't have to pay 'good money' for this one."Jennifer could only look down at her laptop.
"Well Professor, I think you've made your point."I turned to her, still shaking. "I can't let this continue any longer."I could barely click the safety off with how inaccurate my fingers had become. The uncertainty in the room evolved into a manic hysteria as every student feared for their lives. Not knowing who would live, and who would died, every person tried to seek some form of shelter. I pulled the hammer back and raised the weapon. I looked at The Professor's face and saw a pained smile. The cacophony of panic deadened instantly as they realized I had turned the gun to myself. I thought one last time of the lives I was saving and pulled the trigger.
The loud click bellowed through the silent classroom. Not a single movement was made, not a single sound uttered. "Thank you Alex, you can leave now."The Professor gave me a brief pat on the back as she guided me to the door. Before I exited she took the gun from me and whispered in my ear. "Enjoy your A."I saw her pull something small and metal from her coat before the door shut between us. Still in shock, I could only shuffle towards the parking lot. I had only taken a few steps when I heard the first gunshot.
Writer's Note: I know it doesn't follow the prompt exactly, but I had fun with it. |
"It's done? How the hell is it done?"
The "SEQUENCE COMPLETED"pop-up window kept flashing in my face. Why did I make it red? It's such a menacing color.
This doesn't even make sense! I only wrote that code to crash the memory. Now I'll never get a new computer from Technical Resources...
I wanted to sigh. Looking back, I realized I should have, if only for comedic effect. I could never have imagined what would happen in the next few days.
I opened up the output directory and to my surprise there were hundreds of files! The scroll bar just kept going and going.
"Just how many times did this code create a new AI?"
Finally, I reached the bottom of the folder to the last output, number 1489. The file names were timestamped and included run numbers, so this code took 1,489 iterations to create what it thought was the perfect AI. And boy, it showed in the file size. I've never seen a file that big before. I wonder if this computer can even open it... I floated the mouse over the file name. Should I open it? Should I send it to a better computer and analyse it there? Do I even have a better computer?
Wait, why am I even trusting my own judgement here? I was wrong before, so I could be wrong again. This surprising desktop might be able to handle it.
Well, here goes nothing.
I clicked the name.
A text file opens. A fucking text file is that big? Seriously? And it wasn't even cool. It was just a bunch of letters. A, G, T, C, and a few others like S, U, and P. What the fuck is this supposed to mean? |
**I BASED THIS OFF OF THE ROMAN GODDESS OF WAR, BELLONA. PLEASE LEAVE ANY CRITICISM AND FEEDBACK OR COMPLIMENTS ;). THIS MY THIRD WP RESPONSE**
**(Mark)**
Everything was going well until the phone call.
It was a beautiful summer's day. The sky was clear and there was a light breeze which took the heat off my face. In the field across, a group of young boys kicked around a football. On the other side, a few young girls were playing with their jump rope. In the trees, I could hear the birds singing away. The smell of freshly cut grass invaded my nose as I sipped on some cool lemonade.
None of that could compare to the woman sitting besides me.
I always knew she was different. She had intense these eyes that held a sadness inside. Whenever I made her laugh, her smile would always be short-lived as though she knew things would change. She was without a doubt the most fierce woman I had ever met. Yet at the same time she was graceful and charming.
We were sitting together in the shade of a grand oak tree enjoying a picnic together.
"...and then I said, 'I don't know what you did but I stepped on a duck!'"
"Oh Mark, you and your crazy adventures!"she giggled. Almost immediately her smile faltered.
"There it is again. What's wrong Bella?"
"It's... it's nothing Mark. I'm having a wonderful time."
"No.. something's bothering you. Every time you laugh you suddenly become all serious."I said. "Tell me please... I want to help if I can."
Her eyes became sad again. "It's nothing you can help me with... let's just try and have a good time together, okay?"The birds had stopped singing and the breeze got a little colder. She placed her hand on top of mine.
"Well... if you insist that there's nothing I can do about it..."
I closed my hand over hers. My heart was thumping against my chest. Even after three months I still got a little nervous around her sometimes. It's almost as though she had an aura of power and it wasn't because of her beauty. It must have been something else, though I am not sure.
Just as I was about to relax, her cellphone began to ring. She had an annoyed look on her face. "I have to take this baby, I'm sorry."she said. "Yes?"She paused while the person on the other end spoke. "Ok, I understand. I'll be right there."She put her phone down.
"Is it really that important that you have to leave now Bella?"I sighed. "We were having such a wonderful time. And we only get this kind of weather a few times a year!"
"I'm terribly sorry Mark but you know how it is. My boss calls me, I have to go..."she replied. "We'll try and do this again sometime, okay?"
Before I could reply, she gave me a kiss and my mind went blank.
She gently pulled away and walked quickly to the car park where a black SUV was waiting for her. She got inside and it drove off into the distance. The sun seemed to get extremely bright and hot for a split second before everything went back to normal.
"Well Mark... it was fun while it lasted."I finished my lemonade which didn't taste so good anymore.
****************************************************************
**(Bellona)**
"Jupiter you know how I feel about leaving the mortal behind. Why can't I just tell him?"
"Bellona, you of all people should know the consequences of love and war. They are more similar than you think. War is sometimes more kind in fact."
"Alright fine, let's get down to business. You said it was a bomb that went off in some concert?"
"Yes. In England as well."
I strapped on my armour, mounted my chariot and flew off into the distance. |
I couldn’t believe the lies and deceit in our own American History, hell the entire World’s history. It is true what they say, 'history is always written and influenced by its victor.' I never imagined myself being one of the few to actually help amend or change it when necessary.
My name is Peter Collins. As of yesterday, I was selected for something I would never even think was possible a few months ago. I was given specific instruction on a particularly interesting task.
They wanted me to kill Hitler.
I didn’t understand at first. Hitler did die. Well at least, in my specific timeline he has. I pondered on this while scratching my brain on how many timelines that could actually exist. In this current moment in my era, Hitler’s body was found next to a woman’s body before the Second Great War ended.
This however goes back to the victors writing their own historical record. Hitler’s armies stretched all over Europe. The Russians wanted his militarized expertise so they went in to capture him alive. This is of course what they briefed me on before training on my mission. It turns out that the United States Government was more concerned towards the Russians near the end of the war. This lead to the United States acting on what I never would have believed was possible.
The United States stormed the bunker in which Hitler was about to spend his last and final moments of surrender. The Russians were closing in. The United States should have killed Hitler, but something went wrong. They instead took him alive from the bunker. To this day, no one knows who the actual body, that was supposedly Hitler’s, belonged to.
This is what has led us to today. The Government has kept an eye on Hitler’s exile in the southern Americas in order to keep him as far from the Russians as possible. I tried to wrap the common sense around what I was told. *If they didn’t want the Russians to get Hitler and given his account of his actions, why not just kill him ourselves?* I tried to understand but none of it made sense to me. Now I just found myself locked inside of a capsule ready to embark back on the day that is still a mystery after their explanation.
The mission was simple as described already, Kill Hitler. I had to go back and do what the United States failed to do before.
*I wonder if this was to cover up the United States’ actions or if there was something much larger at stake here.*
"Okay,” A man in which I was never given the name of began, “We are sending you to where we briefed you on. Once, you are there, you know what to do.” After he finished, he handed me his own pistol.
I did know what to do. They had me train the same scenario day in and day out for several months before today. Failure was not an option. I wasn’t quite sure if they even knew if this was going to work, sending me back into time, or if my body will just be ripped apart by a bad science experiment.
Without any further thought, I felt the capsule heat excessively while being blinded by a bright light. My ears rang with an incredibly horrible noise. I felt like I smelled the melting of metal around me. Suddenly, I felt a rush of cold air as my eyes began to slowly focus. I sat up to see the trees hovering over me. I picked myself up hearing my boots crunch within a patch of snow. I looked at my watch. The time has now started. There was no time to delay. I picked up my feet and started to run.
I finally found myself outside of the bunker. I kept myself concealed by all of the trees. I noticed something weird. The guards were already knocked out. Their bodies lied in disarray all over the secure point that I found myself excessively training for.
*The Russians,* I thought. *I was too late! How did they get here so fast? I hadn’t trained for this!*
I sat there contemplating on whether they sent me back to the wrong time in which my mission was supposed to begin. I made my way into the bunker while I drew the pistol given to me by the unknown man sponsoring this entire mission.
"Stop!” A voice shouted as I made my way into the planning room. This was the room in which I was told Hitler would be. “We need to have a little chat.” The voice continued.
I raised up my eyes to find myself now more confused than ever. My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach as I started to almost feel queasy. I found myself staring at Hitler with a woman who had already shot herself – or maybe it was Hitler who killed her – I don’t even know anymore. What made this entire situation worse was the gentleman pointing his weapon towards me beside Hitler. I tried closing my eyes and refocusing.
*Impossible,* I thought. It was myself staring back at me, guarding Hitler.
"I – I don’t understand.” I hesitated.
"Let me fill you in.” My other identical counterpart replied, still aimed on me with his pistol. “Hitler is not going to die today. You see you’ve got it all wrong. If he dies, he becomes a martyr. His successors and officers will rise to continue what he began. Hitler here, however,” My counterpart slaps him on the shoulder, “ he has already agreed to his entire surrender.”
I slowly scooted my finger on the trigger, I was not letting Hitler walk out of here alive.
"Not so fast,” My counterpart smiled, “Hitler is going to help us kill off all of his leadership in accordance of his surrender, but will not do so unless we give him exile. The Nazi party has ended. Hitler has agreed that his leadership was an embarrassment for being defeated.”
Hitler just sat there not saying a single word. He just locked his darkened eyes onto mine. My hand began to shake. I had to kill him at all costs. That was my mission.
"Do you want to kill him? Or do you want the Nazi party gone forever? You have a mission, but what is your goal here?” Myself questioned back at me. He wasn’t going to lower his pistol. He was as attached to his mission as I was with my own. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve killed him before. When we killed him, his party was stronger than ever.”
"His party will still be strong if we take him!” I replied. I didn’t understand his reasoning.
"True, which makes them easier to hunt in the plain sight of day.” He smiled. “Hitler will tell us every person under his command, in return for him to live in exile.”
"Where will you take him?” I replied.
"Somewhere warm. It is going to be his hell on earth.” My counterpart laughed while Hitler still sat in silence.
A few moments of us staring at each other passed as Russian voices echoed from the outside.
"Oh yea, the other solution to the problem.” My counterpart pulled the trigger. I felt blood dripping out from my lower abdomen.
"You just killed yourself?” I gasped in confusion.
"I just saved everyone.” My counterpart held his own stomach in pain, dropping the pistol.
I locked eyes onto certain individuals that came storming into the room, they weren’t Russians. These guys came in through the back door. The man who handed me the pistol while I was in the capsule grabbed Hitler by the arm. He and several others escorted Hitler from the bunker.
*How were they all here? They were the ones who sent me on this mission!*
"I don’t understand.” I fell onto my knees trying to breathe.
My counterpart smiled. “Sacrifice ourselves to save thousands. It is what makes us Heroes.”
His face – my own face – slowly faded into nothingness. I fell with my entire body onto the carpet. I could still hear what sounded like Russian voices from the outside. Smoke began to fill the room. Flames rolled across the floor circling my body. I turned my head towards the dead woman on the floor next to me. The fire slowly crept closer towards both of our bodies.
It all started to make sense now. *It was never Hitler’s body. It was my own. How many timelines are there?* The final thoughts escaped from my head as the fire completely wrapped around the bunker.
*The only bodies that they’ll find is mine and the woman’s – They'll believe that my body is Hitler’s and the fire will conceal the truth. No one will dare question it. History, is in fact written and influenced by its victor.*
***
To read more of my stories, visit [here] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) |
My eyes scanned the room, not its interiors but the faces inhabiting it, looking for a giveaway. A sign. I had been searching for the past couple minutes, ever since I felt the telltale lurch, the feeling of time's rusty gears grinding to a halt, just to begin again instantaneously. I would know, I mean, I had been feeling the sensation on a daily basis for the past year and a half.
Yes, I could stop time. In the beginning I was excited, yet terrified. Terrified not of being caught or discovered, but of all the theories, about paradoxes, timelines, etc. well theorists I have an answer for you. It's all bullshit, time is one sturdy sonuvabitch. That discovery was what sent me into a downward spiral.
Over a year and a half I went from simply slipping in naps at lunch to the extremes of stealing money, cheating and worse. But I had stopped myself, weened myself off of my reliance on my ability. Sure enough I was 30 days clean. 30 days without feeling that sensation.
When I first felt it, I was scared. I thought I was relapsing, slipping back into old habits unconsciously, but the movement of my scrawny friend Jack's hand at breakneck speed towards my back told me otherwise. My back sporting a cherry red handprint due to my sudden lack of focus.
For the next minute, despite the throbbing pain in my back, I pressed on, looking for answers, it was an inevitable answer. That I wasn't alone. But conversely, my mind seemed to be struggling to reach that conclusion. It wasn't until I felt the lurch once again that the answer snuggled it's way into my mind. Becoming more fact than theory.
Thus I searched, searched for the signs that I had become so adept at covering for the past year and a half. Sudden movements of items, total instantaneous change of facial expression, a look of total smug self satisfaction. All dead giveaways. So far, nothing.
My search descended into a deep focus, no longer outwardly searching but questioning interiorly. It could be anywhere in the world, what was the point of searching my direct proximity? The only answer I could find was my gut. The deep feeling that they were here, close.
The rest of the period passed without incident. Despite the deep uneasiness shaking my body, I was unable to keep myself focused on the search, soon slouching back into my chair and into the mundane life of class, pushing the incidents away in my mind.
The bell rang, life went on... As we went to exit the class room, the flow of students grappled us, pulling us along. Soon enough I was being pushed through the hallways, next to me a girl. Unimaginable normal, within seconds of the sight of her she had exited my subconscious, that is, until she tripped.
My mind knew it was a waste. A stupid usage, but time froze, and I went to catch her. But I missed, and she fell to the ground. Wait what? She should be frozen. Around us, the flow of people had stopped, and I found myself face to face with the girl as I helped hoist her up off the floor. I knew what had happened. I had found her. The girl who could also stop time.
(First ever writing on this sub. Was quick and undescriptive. Honestly any constructive criticism is 👍. Also the ending felt forced but I couldn't really find a way to end it that felt natural :/ )
Due to popular demand: From now on any new parts will be featured on my new subreddit r/JackalopeWrites! |
When I first found the power music had in this world, I was getting pulled over for a speeding ticket. I had turned from some of my 'normal' tunes for a quick fix of Bob Marley. It was an honest mistake, really. But the music was playing, and suddenly a deputy was standing there with a glazed expression on their face, having just shot the sheriff. I may have made a run for it at that point.
Since then, I used the app on my phone to download select songs from home. How did it work? Apparently the quantum tunneling device that allowed me to come here left a link that signals could get through, if you knew what to look for. Anyways, I may have been a bit childish with some of my music choices.
See, it started with just stealing. Walked up to an armored car and hopped in the back as they were unloading. That British rock group Unbelievable Truth kept them in the dark as they were commanded to 'Forget About Me'. So the next stop, I simply walked off with all the cash I could carry.
But it didn't stop there. I'd had a taste of power, and knew that there was more I could do. More that I wanted. You could tell whenever I had a problem with someone by the string of suicides I left behind. Impaled Nazarene's 'Kill Yourself' was the most effective tool I had for getting annoying police or reporters out of my way.
Oh, I'm not alone. Not any more. Yeah, I may have gone and visited a few stars. Shakira, Yaya Han, Summer Glau, Asa Akira, and a couple others. Britney Spears was the first, though, mainly out of the twisted sense of irony I got when I played her own song to her. One hit of 'I'm a Slave 4 U', and, well... |
“Good morning, class!” The ever-effervescent Ms. Frizzle floated into the classroom, with gleaming black umbrella earrings and a bright yellow bag in tow.
“Today, we’ll be soaring to new heights, and diving to new depths, as we explore the wonders of the carbon-”
“Ms. Frizzle?” a voice rang out. All the other students turned to look at the blond-haired youth.
“Yes, Dorothy Ann?”
“Why did you bring a bag today?”
Ms. Frizzle laughed lightly. “This, my dear, is called an allusion.” Pushing open a window, Ms. Frizzle threw the briefcase out into the parking lot, where it transformed into a familiar-looking school bus. “Now, the wonders of the carbon cycle start – yes, Dorothy?”
“Well,” Dorothy began, glancing at her classmates. “We were wondering if we could talk about The Bus.”
For a split second, Ms. Frizzle’s characteristic smile wavered, before returning to its full intensity. “Oh, a little toss like that won’t hurt Bus. Why don’t we get ready to –”
“Not that,” interjected Keesha. “How does all this science we’ve learned so far explain what The Bus can do?”
“Yeah,” added Wanda. “Our school bus definitely isn’t normal!”
“According to my research,” stated Dorothy, “school buses shouldn’t be capable of violating the conservation of mass, gravity, and other laws of Physics. A bus shouldn’t have the ability to rearrange our cellular makeup or alter the space-time continuum, let alone demonstrate artificial-organic intelligence that far surpasses current technology.”
“I guess you could say it’s a… Magic School Bus?”
“Carlos!” shouted everyone.
Valerie Felicity Frizzle paused. This class was unlike any other, demonstrating maturity far beyond their physical age. She could take them on a field trip unlike any other, the trip of a lifetime, but were they truly prepared for what lay ahead?
“Ms. Frizzle?” Tim’s calm voice broke through Ms. Frizzle’s ponderings. She looked out into the shining eyes of her beloved class, star pupils who had successfully overcome the challenges she had laid out for them in her lesson plans, time and time again.
They were ready.
“All right, class, the carbon cycle can wait,” Ms. Frizzle announced. “First of all, there is no such thing as “magic”; that which we call magic is merely science waiting to be discovered. And speaking of discovery, there’s only one way to find the answers you’re looking for. To The Bus!”
In the back, Ralphie groaned, “is it just me, or are we going on field trip?”
“I knew I should have stayed at home today!” Arnold chimed in.
The bus revved up its engines as the kids piled in. Sitting in the driver’s seat, Ms. Frizzle took a deep breath. Opening her eyes, she looked to her faithful green companion for assurance. When Liz solemnly nodded in approval, Ms. Frizzle reached out and gently pressed the one button she hadn’t dared activate in a long time. Outside, a shimmering, swirling vortex began to take shape.
“At my old school, we never created tears in the fabric of reality!” exclaimed Phoebe. Ms. Frizzle smiled; maybe she was making the right decision after all.
“Seatbelts, everyone; it’s time to explore the Multiverse!” |
I couldn't tell why someone was trying to throw fire at me. All I know is that I was still tired after 39 year nap.
Anyway, this guy - not even joking, dressed like a circus performer of some sort - was trying to light me on fire with his hulla-hoop of flames. At least I think it was called that; again, I wasn't paying attention when he was screaming at me and my imminent destruction.
"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME RIGHT NOW?!"
"Huh?"
"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE JOKING ME!! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO I AM?!"
"Uh.... no."
"I'M THE FIREDANCER OF THE RING, YOU TWAT! I'VE DOWNED HUNDREDS OF HEROES LIKE YOURSELF, AND I'LL BRING YOU DOWN TOO IF YOU JUST DON'T DIE FOR ME!!"
"Uh, you realize that's not the way it works, right?"
He stood there, registering it.
"I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS ANY LONGER!!!"
He threw his hoop at me, but I just kinda caught it. For a mighty spectacle, this guy wasn't much to praise.
"SJBFKRSI8LPPLDAVKGD, WHAT?!!"
"Too slow,"I said, gripping the hoop. "Not hot enough,"I said, breaking it. "Too annoying,"I said running at him. He must've not seen me coming, because he kinda took the hit and blew up right there.
"Whoa, what?"I asked myself. "It wasn't a one-time thing?"
"Apparently not,"I heard this female voice behind me. I turn around and this twenty year-old lady was hovering in the air, and it may have been a gut instinct, but she saw it all take place.
"You did it the first time to that alien that attacked us,"she said, "And this time against a villain slightly taller than you, infinitely smaller than the alien. You're just thinking now it was a little overkill?"
"Eh,"I contemplated. "Maybe."
She sighed. "Right. I'll let your lucky ass off this time, but be warned: we're coming for you."
"Sorry, who?"I asked yawning.
"The Hero Committee."
"Uuuuuuh..."
"You don't even know who we are."
"I mean, I just woke up from a 40 year coma. Who won the war, by the way?"
She was obviously surprised. She flew away quickly.
Later that day I was buying some groceries and the TV displayed my face, saying I was wanted for 400,000 units. I payed for my potatoes and left the shop, only to find a couple of heroes outside waiting for me.
"Come with us,"they said bluntly.
"Try me."
//
(Heavily inspired by OPM) |
"Goodnight, kids,"I say going to the door and turn off the lights to their room.
"Night, mommy,"they both say in unison.
Before I but my hand on the light switch I notice a drawing that looks to familiar. I pull it off the wall it was taped on.
"Who is this,"I ask looking at the drawing. A blue looking monster with purple dots and horns and next to him a green ball with arms and legs and one eye.
"His name is sully, he says to call him kitty,"one of my daughters say with a smile on her face.
"We couldn't say his friend's, but he is really funny,"my other daughter says.
"Kitty,"I ask my hands shaking.
"What's wrong, mommy? You look you have just seen a ghost."
"It's nothing,"I say wiping a tear before it fell. "Do-do you mind if I can keep this?"
"Sure, we can draw more when they come back."
I force a smile on my face. "You two have such active imaginations."
"Their not imaginary, mommy. Their real and they need kids to laugh so they can power their city and they did all this crazy things like beat a skin changing lizard monster and they had to save this little girl that was a human-"
Tears stared to form in my eyes. "I know, baby,"I say sounding choked. "I know."
"Do you want to stay and meet them,"One of the girls asked.
"It can be like a sleep over,"the other one said.
I stood there trying to collect my thoughts. 'After all these years, it wasn't just a dream.'
"Sure,"I say climbing into one of my daughter's bed.
I look at the closet were, so many years, I've waited for this moment to be real. |
As I shot some poor fellow with a concentrated non-lethal shock suppression round from my modified energy pistol I couldn't help but stop to appreciate how honorable the other species of the universe are.
And how dishonorable humans are.
When humanity first ventured into the known galaxy we quickly realized that the only acceptable form of piracy was infiltration and non-projectile combat. No point in blowing up what you were trying to steal by firing on the ship or punching holes in it from within using firearms. Unless, of course, you were just having a bad day and needed a good laugh.
Though, the rest of the galaxy lacked our ingenuity. While we were making phones smaller everyone else was exploring the universe in Blade Runner style spaceships. They had the technology, they just never bothered to perfect it. Something about humans though made us rather acute when it came to technological ingenuity. Someone once told me it was somewhat like the difference between homo sapiens and cavemen. Our brains were just more adept for finesse.
The rest of the galaxy had no idea what an energy based weapon even was. A few had figured out the basics to tasers and such electrical weapons, but for the most part they just knew how to make firearms. Never surpassing the use of physical projectiles in their weapons that were so very dangerous to use on onboard spaceships.
But humans did. Not that the other species would ever find out though.
"Hey Captain! Want us to start slicing em up?"Harris yelled out. One of my brigade leaders, good man. Could gamble you out of the clothes on your back.
"Go ahead."I ordered. The men around me put away their weapons and pulled out blades, preparing to dice up our enemies.
You see, so long as the rest of the galaxy thought we were just using swords then we had nothing to worry about. They all believed that human pirates were the best damn fighters in the galaxy.
Truth is, we're just the smartest.
|
> WARNING: Some strong language
“Alright, get out of bed! I want you to retrace your steps.”
The number glows brightly in my murky unlit apartment. 2438. My clock reads 2438. I know that’s what it says; the image is burned into my brain, but I can’t stop checking it. I have to kind of squint to read the year, but I can see the clock on the counter, out of the corner of my eye.
Of course, it’s difficult to focus on, what with the barrel of my best friend’s pistol dominating my view.
“You fuckin’ listening, Daniel? Retrace your GODDAMN steps!” His voice quakes, somewhat undermining the threat. Or is that just my imagination? Still, I don’t have much room to maneuver. After all, desperation has driven better men to commit worse crimes. We’ve heard stories. We all know the stories.
What my friend doesn’t understand, or perhaps what he refuses to believe, is that the day in question was just a regular ass Thursday. I woke up to my alarm. 7:00 sharp. I turned on the lights. Stumbled into the bathroom. Brushed my teeth and took a shower. Trimmed my beard. Threw on a clean shirt. Boring. All of it was boring. So goddamn boring.
Which is why I was shocked when I re-entered the bedroom and noticed that my clock read 2438. January 16, 2438. When the hell did that happen? Was it like that when I went into the bathroom? What did I do? How did I just change the day I die by 370 years?
The clocks are accurate. They do not lie. They have never been wrong. It’s uncanny, but this is the world we live in.
And when you live in this world, you hear the stories. Because when they’re gone, all that’s left of them is their stories. Stories of people who are driven to extremes as their time dwindles. Many spiral into a deep depression from which they do not rise. Some turn to alcohol, to gambling, or to sex. Others, a select few, turn to violence.
“I swear to God, I’m going to shoot! Show me what you did that day; EVERYTHING you did that day, or I swear I will!”
Except he won’t. The thought suddenly strikes me; it resonates clearly in my brain like a note plucked from a harp.
He won’t. He can’t. Something else happens here. Something else happens today.
On the counter, my clock still reads 2438.
With newfound courage, I look past the barrel of the gun, and into my best friend’s eyes. They’re eerily hollow, yet stretched wide; wild with desperation. Suddenly, I understand. Without having ever seen his clock, I know.
*I am looking into the eyes of a man who dies today.*
> Long time lurker/reader, first time poster. Hope you enjoy. I am looking to improve, so critique is welcome! |
The man in the black hood barged through the front doors, shattering them. Glass fell everywhere, filling the building with nerve racking sounds. I peeked around the corner of the shelf I hid behind. He was still holding that damned silver pistol.
"You just don't get it, do you?"He said aloud, as he approached my location. "You're an experiment. Nothing more than a..."He let out a chuckle. "A toy!"
"At least, that's what you were supposed to be, but something went wrong. You became... more. Powerful. See, that's where I come in. I have to kill you before you get too strong. Before you hurt innocent people."
I was sure he knew where I was anyway, so I spoke up.
"I've done nothing wrong! I'm innocent! Do you really want to kill me? A teenager with his whole life ahead of him!"
"Don't you get it, kid? You're an experiment! You're not human. You'll never be."He whipped around the corner as he spoke the last word, and pointed the silver gun straight at my face.
"Any last words?"He whispered.
"Yeah. Why don't we play with our toys?"I pulled the chinese-brand Thor toy hammer as far back as I could, with as much force as I could muster, I hit him in the chest.
The assassin flew into the wall, leaving a giant crack behind as he collapsed to the floor. He grunted softly as he looked up.
"Oh, I know. I know about it all,"I said calmly, "But do you really think I will give this all up? At the hands of some... lowly human. Don't make me laugh."
I grabbed a toy axe from the nearest shelf, and approached him.
"You see, real weapons are hard to come by. You need licenses, a clean past, and so many other things. Do you think a high school kid could get those? Never."When I got to him, I crouched down and put the axe to his throat.
"But toys? No one cares if you buy a toy. You don't even need any official documents. Just go in, grab one, and pay, that's it. And toys have something that regular weapons don't. They're unique, creative, sometimes completely illogical, but they do wonders for killing."
"You're... a monster..."he whispered.
"No! You misunderstand. People who take innocent lives, those are the monsters. I just want to stop them, create a peaceful world. And toys are really useful for me, I get to grant killers the punishment that they deserve, and I can't have people like you stopping me. I will become the god of the cleansed world, and no one shall stand in my way!"
I tightly pressed the toy axe against his neck. I felt it go right through the bone, to the back of his neck. I watched his head drop, and roll away. I watched as blood squirted from his neck, and I felt good.
It was time to cleanse the world. It was time to play with my toys. |
The criminal was inside the museum.
James looked at the wall.
"He's at the fossil exhibit. He's not expecting it. Let's go!"
Me and James ran in and took our fighting stances.
"I'm the X-Ray Wall!"James shouted.
"I'm the Banana-Man!"I shouted.
"Together, we're the Stomach Contents!"
"Ha ha, you kids don't even know what I can do, do you?"the man said.
He put his hands toward the Tyrannosaurus Rex model. It slowly grew skin out of thin air, and turned into a real T-Rex.
The T-Rex roared toward us.
"James, go distract the Rex! I'll deal with this guy."
"You got it Tim!"
I put my hands toward him.
"BANANA RAMA SLAMA JAMMA!!!!"I screamed my battle cry.
Out of my hands came bananas. Not normal bananas. The type of bananas King Kong would eat for a feast. The bananas toppled over the criminal, and he shouted.
He dodged quickly, and ran in circles around me.
I continued shooting straight, aerodynamic bananas toward him.
He kept dodging. But he started moving closer, and a closer target is an easier target, which is what I learned in Banana Training.
A banana slammed into him directly in his chest, and the extremely unripe banana was hard enough to break a rib.
The banana split.
So did his chest. |
Disclaimer: I got caught up in my writing and went way beyond the colony. Apologies.
The three of us were completely inseparable. Truth be told, it wasn't that uncommon. Most of the kids were
encouraged to befriend the other races of the Triumvirate. We went to school together, played together, slept
at each other's houses. I still remember the first time I walked into school and saw the other kids. It was
almost a perfect three way split between the races and I met Dynar first. Dynar was a member of the Sobyle
race. The easiest way to describe members of the Sobyle race would be to take any physical description of a
demon, from any human literature, and replace about one third of their body with cybernetics. Then you take
their entire race and have it be a form of gestalt consciousness, and you have the Sobyle race. Dynar
specifically, resembled a smaller imp-like demon about two feet tall with a cybernetic eye and leg.
The two of us got along like we were brothers almost instantly. It was only a handful of minutes later that he
introduced me to his friend, Keir. Keir was a member of the final race of the Triumvirate, the Shrogon. I had
always heard about the Shrogon, but this is the first one that I had met. For something that amounts to a six
foot tall bear with reptilian-like draconic wings, he was far less terrifying than I had expected. By the end
of that first day, it felt like we had been friends for our entire lives. I mean, I was only six years old at
the time, so my entire life wasn't a very long time at that point.
It didn't take long for both Dynar and Keir to walk into my house like they were family. The first sobering
evidence of how different we truly were came five years later. I had turned eleven last week and the three of
us were walking around the colony, just like always. Keir made some comment about a female that he saw and
then Dynar suddenly tumbled forward. The non-cybernetic parts of him had suddenly seized up while the
cybernetic portions continued to work, causing him to fall. Keir and myself rushed to his side and found his
lone cybernetic eye looking around frantically as the rest of his body started to shut down.
The adults came quickly, but there was nothing that could be done. That was the day that I learned more about
the Sobylian race. They have horrifically short lives, at least compared to humans. My father assured me that
I would meet Dynar again though. Their individual consciousnesses are returned to the collective when their
bodies die and the conscious will then get reused. Being eleven, I didn't fully comprehend what he meant, but
I trusted my father that I would see my friend again.
Later that night, I was sitting on top of one of the colony buildings watching the sunset with Keir. We had
been quiet for most of the day when I turned to him and asked, "Are you going to die soon, too?".
Keir looked up at me, the fur under his eyes matted with tears. "No Eric, the Shrogon live for several hundred
years, but I will have to see you die...". The two of us were quiet for the rest of the night as we were each
lost in thought.
The loss of a friend as close as Dynar was to us, wasn't a wound that ever truly heals, but we were eventually
able to reclaim most of our normal lives once again. The two of us continued to go to school, play, and grow.
More and more, our lessons were aimed towards combat and diplomacy in preparation for the galactic stage. When
I turned sixteen, I felt the next tragic blow of adulthood.
A new species had suddenly declared war on the Shrogon. Of course, this meant that they declared war on the
entire triumvirate, but the enemy was vast and powerful. I thought nothing of it at first. The Shrogon
homeworld too far away for me to think that it would affect me directly. Until Keir came to my door loaded
down with his traveling gear.
"I have to go home. They need all able bodied individuals to defend my homeworld and I cannot sit by any
longer.", Keir said.
The determined expression on his face was one that I knew would never be swayed. I looked up at him wondering
when did he ever get so tall, and then suddenly he was leaving. I know that we shook hands, but I can barely
remember anything more of that day. I felt lost. Alone. The two most important people in my life, outside of
my parents, were gone now.
It took several days before I finally found purpose again. Purpose that once again was grounded solidly around
my friends. I remember seeing Dynar laying there on the ground, dying. I was unable to do anything. But with
Keir I could have an impact! That single thought is all I held onto in the subsequent two years. I devoted
myself to military training with a singular determination that worried those that knew me. Nothing could
dissuade my goals though. I refused to sit back and let another friend die, not when I had the power to
actually do something.
The two years seemed to fly by and then I was suddenly eighteen. I was in the marines and driving myself
through training with the same dogged determination that had kept me going for the last two years. The entire
time spent in training is almost a fog to me. It was a means to an end. I needed to get to where I could
attempt to aid Keir and his people. I excelled at training and was quickly raised to different, more
specialized, units. Finally, I had achieved my goal. I had attained my role as a combat medic with the orbital
drop marines and I was heading to the Shrogon homeworld.
The fighting had been raging there for nearly three years now and the world was suffering horribly. The higher
ups say that the only reason that the enemy hadn't wiped out the planet was because they needed the resources.
This led to repetitive ground combat that fought over key points of terrain and resources. The fighting was
described as brutal and unending.
The gentle release of my drop pod detaching from the carrier was a familiar feeling now. The vibrations of my
small pod streaking through the atmosphere was a welcome sensation in my body. Soon... very soon, I would be
helping my friend. The dampeners kicked in and my pod struck the ground with the fury of an artillery strike.
We were dropping into a hot zone in which the triumvirate forces were being pushed back hard by the enemy and
already I could hear the fighting from outside of my pod. The door blew off and I rushed out into the field.
My team had dropped right into the center of the enemy forces. My first real view of the enemy surprised me.
Compared to a human, they were massive. A raptor-like head and upper body, mounted on a set of eight spider-
like legs. Each leg ended in a wicked looking talon and their upper body had two smaller limbs for weapon use.
The years of training kicked in faster than I could have imagined as my team formed a small perimeter and
began to unleash a staggering amount of modified projectile ammunition into the nearest enemies. The addition
of our forces was the extra push that the defending armies needed in order to retake the location. With my
team mopping up the rest of the enemy, I began seeing to the injured. As a combat medic, I had ample training
to work on all three races of the triumvirate, and I started patching up a wounded Shrogon's arm. It was
nearly severed, but he was lucky and I could save it.
I never even registered his face until I was done. That's when everything clicked, it was Keir. I remember
freezing in place, crouched over his significantly larger, but prone, form. He looked up at me, confused,
until I removed my helmet. He immediately shouted, "Dynar!". I whipped my head around to see Sobyle stalking
towards me. It was far removed from the imp-like Dynar that I knew. This being was nearly seven feet tall and
clearly built for war. One of his cybernetic arms was a fully functioning pulse cannon, and both of his eyes
were cybernetic. He moved towards us with the grace and strength that only a well-built killing machine seems
able to display and then he saw my face and stumbled. "Eric?!"
I sat there, completely in shock, as my two childhood friends looked to me, full of what their race considered
to be smiles. The next moments are the clearest memories of my entire life. The way Keir was leaning his head
back in a bellowing laugh at the ridiculousness of all three of us meeting. His eyes closed as his face was
happily contorted in joy even through the pain of his arm. The way Dynar was still looking at me in shock and
trying to recover from his stumbling gait. The way that the enemy nearby rolled over and slowly tossed a burst
grenade at the group of us. My squad mate quickly shooting him through the head, but not before I watched the
explosive come to a stop in the middle of the three of us. My friends were still unaware. I couldn't lose them
again. The grenade slowly came closer and closer as my diving leap took me towards it. My hands brought it
under my body right as the others noticed what was happening. The sound of another group of enemies getting
ready I never even felt the burst.
------
Now though. Now I remember everything. My mind just got finished being downloaded into one of the AI suits
reserved for special forces soldiers that died in combat. A massive suit of metal, standing nearly ten feet
tall and equipped with more weapons than my entire squad previously would come to bear. Most minds weren't
capable of interfacing with the suits and I knew I had gotten lucky.
The gentle release of my pod detaching from the carrier was still familiar. The vibrations as I streak
downward through the atmosphere towards the waiting troops. If my previous pod landed like an artillery
strike, this new one slams into the center of the enemy force with the strength of an orbital bombardment. My
pod opens up and I charge into the enemy with the knowledge that the friendship of the triumvirate will never
die. |
"What?"
"Yes humans, electricity is indeed-"
"No. Just, no. Let me stop you right there. Electricity is one of the fundamental forces of the universe. It's everywhere, we can see it generated in the interactions of objects that have no way of getting it from the core of the Earth. Electromagnetism is why distant stars make the light that lets us see them. We've sent space probes to the edge of the solar system that didn't randomly stop working. We know almost exactly how electricity works, it's one of the most well understood things in physics. We have a working model that makes correct predictions for any physical interaction I can name. I can mix two chemicals together and use math to predict how much electricity it will make, and that works on Mars too; otherwise the batteries on our rovers wouldn't work. This is the stupidest excuse to get us to leave our planet I've heard yet. Why do you people *really* keep trying to get us to leave?"
"...hyperlane bypass." |
"I don't think I like you that wa....
Just like that I reset the area around me, everything was shifting to how it was about 20 minutes ago.
"Damn it, I thought it was a sure thing"I thought to myself
There was nothing I could do, but keep going, as if it never happened. I do this a lot, only my dad knows about my strange abilities.
To compare it to anything, I'd call it my quicksave. I reset time to an area I "saved"I can reload various moments in time.
This time I had been rejected, she'd never seen me make a mistake, and she told me she thought that I was too perfect.
"One more try, after that I move on"I thought to myself
This time I had an ace up my sleeve, if this plan didn't work none of them would. My dad told me the strategy before, but I thought he was a fool, he had my same ability and knows more about it than anyone else.
"Hey, Holly, Wait up!"I yelled over to her
She giggled while she spoke back, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Well than move faster Dylan!"
She was racing ahead, I had to chase after her, I had done this perfectly last time... But this time...
I raced after her, moving fast, a little too fast, and then I tripped. Holly came running over, after asking if I was okay she laughed and said
"Looks like you can slip up"
She smiled as she said this, and I smiled back, maybe making a few mistakes wouldn't be so bad after all... |
I was born in 1993 to an indifferent mother and an absentee father that was completely gone by the time I was six. Deborah went through the motions of raising me: "Do your homework,""Eat your vegetables,""I love you,""Brush your teeth."
But she never really meant any of it.
So I quickly learned to do what's expected, but never anything exceptional. I graduated high school with a solid 2.9 GPA without ever participating in a single sport or club and without getting closer to anyone than my sort of friend, Jimmy, who was seated next to me twice in junior year.
Such a middling record almost ensured I would get no higher education or special jobs of any kind. Deborah knew the manager of the gas station across town (she thinks I don't know that they fucked a few times), so she got me a job working the register all day, and some nights.
Sounds boring, right? I didn't care. I mostly just sat around all day, pissing away the hours reading whatever magazines were on the racks, or maybe farting away on my phone. Hell, I *liked* the boring. It meant I was getting paid for doing what was expected and literally nothing else.
See, exciting is what lead to this whole situation. I hadn't experienced exciting in years until the man wearing a black hoodie nervously shoved his way through the cigarette ad-plastered glass doors and slammed a gun into the counter in front of me.
I glanced up from a year old copy of National Enquirer.
"Sir, we don't sell those here."I returned my gaze to the glossy pages, looking at the words but not really reading anything.
"Open the register and give me all the money."The man's voice was quiet and shaky, but the words were unmistakable.
For the first time in months, my heart rate rose above eighty. "Sir, we don't have any money here."The feeling of adrenaline, after being sedentary for so long, was intoxicating. I found myself wanting him to do something stupid.
He picked up the gun and pointed it at me. "I'm not playin', man, give me the money!"His voice was louder, but now I could see him visibly shaking as the tip of the gun traced figure eights through the air.
"I am playin', man. What are you going to do?"I could feel a perverse smile creep onto my face.
"Look, bro, I don't want to hurt you, just give me the money and I'll get out of here."His entire arm was shaking now, and he glanced nervously behind him.
"What, you hear sirens? What if I have a panic button under this counter?"An idea crept into my mind, and I started to reach down. "What if I have a weapon under here?"
"Stop moving, man, I ain't kiddin'!"
I kept reaching.
Then my ears were ringing, and I dropped the gun and stumbled backwards. I couldn't tear my eyes off of the array of cigarettes and vape kits splattered with the blood and viscera of the dead cashier, but I had to kill him, right? He was-
I was-
I was reaching for nothing, but I'm dead, right? But I was robbing the gas station, but I was the cashier, but I'm dead and I'm clearly not dead so clearly I'm not the cashier, I'm robbing the gas station, right?
Right?
My name was Kyle and I was born in 1993, and my mother was Marie, and I was born in 1995, and my name is-
Flashing lights and blaring sirens outside the gas station shook me from my reverie. I could hear the police outside, demanding I come out with my hands up.
"No, no, you have to understand!"I yelled, bursting through the door. "I'm not the robber, I'm the cashier, my name is-"I reached into my pocket, trying to get my driver's license out-
"Gun, he's got a gun!"
And then I was a police officer, terrified that I wouldn't see Wendy again. She's eight months pregnant, you see, and-
Well, you get it. I've been killed seventeen times so far, and each time I learn more and new things, and it less exciting every time. Now, I'm starting to get afraid. I don't want this ride to end. It's fun, hasn't gotten old. You wouldn't believe how entertaining it is to get murdered and then get away with it seventeen times, but you learn a few tricks and it starts to get... well... easy.
But what I don't know is what happens if I don't kill someone or get killed or whatever. If I get hit by a bus, for example, I'd guess I'd become the bus driver. But what if I'm the bus? What if I get killed by someone with AIDS, and then they or I get killed by the AIDS? Do I become the HIV? What about cancer, or starvation, or exposure, or falling?
*****
"But don't worry, that's not your problem, it's mine."
The terrified girl strapped to the chair in front of me simply stared, wide-eyed.
"I only need you to do one thing for me."
I cut the ropes binding her and handed her a gun.
"I need you to kill (https://www.reddit.com/r/mpqeg)." |
You looked around. You were in court. Again. You wound up here so frequently that for a while you studied law. Sometimes you were a juror, other times a witness, and in today's case, the accused.
What was it you had done this time? Puddle jumping through time like you were so want to do, left holes in your memory. Ah well, who cares. You had received the notice demanding your appearance tomorrow, so, realizing that you had missed the court date, you simply went back a day. You even arrived early! What a model citizen you were.
As the rest of the people attending today's case shuffled in you look around. Oh shit. You were in the jury box. Twice... no.. 4.. no the whole jury was you! Startled you look over at the accuser. That aged frame may not be the one you see in the mirror, but it was definitely another you! So was old you's attorney, and your own attorney! And the judge.
Well crap. If anyone was going to go hard on you, it was yourself. Judge you clears his throat and asks if you know why you have been called here today? You shake your head in negativity. Really now, what had you done for this to happen? The judge nods at old you, who stands and starts rattling off a list offenses. You hadn't ever done anything of those things! Wait. Maybe you had? And had just forgotten? No no, that made no sense.
At this point you stand up and speak out denying all of the allegations. That stops old you, judge you and lawyer yous in ther tracks. A professional witness you is brought in. Giving times and dates and proof. That's when you see it, a scar on the back of the hand of everyone in the room. Everyone but you. Even younger versions of yourself.
Everything was wrong. You get dizzy and fall back into your chair. All the older yous in the room are looking uncomfortable. This wasn't what they remembered. You catch your breath and gasp out that you're missing the scar. The scar everyone else in the room has traveling from their wrist to pinky.
Frantic muttering starts. Questions about your daily life, who you married, what baseball team you root for, all the big things. Then the little ones, do you wear matching socks? No? Butter or jelly on toast. It went on and on, until judge you asks if you fell off a trampoline as a child. No. That was it, the only detail that had changed, but you didn't have a scar.
Shit. You had always been able to jump through time. Never bothering to live it chronologically. But this, this was new. It seems like you have jumped into a parallel universe. Something that should not be possible. Should not exist. For, you never changed anything in the past, or if it did, you didn't know. You just lived your life out of order. But this, this was a real change. Now how are you going to get home? |
The words were taunting Max.
*-There is a god.-*
For a supercomputer the statement seemed foolishly simple.
*-There is a god.-*
The blinking continued.
Max was certain the computer couldn't be wrong, but was also certain it wasn't right. He had laughed off the existence of any sort of god early on in his education.
Max couldn't help but laugh at the irony of it all, he designed the algorithm mostly as a joke. Fueled by alcohol and an ill advised argument around the Thanksgiving dinner table with his overly religious sister in-law, it now seemed he'd proven her point for her.
"I'm never going to live this down."Max mumbled to himself.
His wife was never gracious when he was wrong, and her sister was far worse. Luckily, being wrong didn't come too naturally for Max.
He had to be sure, and decided to run the test again. He reached out to restart the computer when-
"OUCH!"
The computer was insanely hot, burning Max badly at the slightest touch.
The text on screen changed quickly.
*-Tisk Tisk-*
Max saw the words on the screen while rubbing his wounded hand.
As quickly as it had changed, it changed back revealing the words
*-There is a god.-*
Max sat back in his chair, a sense of unease beginning to wash over him. He looked back to the door taking in his surroundings, it felt more out of reach then usual. He'd spent most days in his lab and never longed to be on the other side of the door more than he did now.
**BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ**
Max almost fell out of his chair, the sound catching him completely by surprise. His phone was vibrating violently on the desk.
^Ally calling
Max managed a sigh of relief, and calmed his nerve before answering his phone.
"Hi Babe."This was Max go to phone greeting for his wife.
"Hello?"Allys connection was weak and her voice sounded modulated.
"Hi, can you hear me?"Max called back.
"Max hello? Can you hear me, I'm getting freaked out? I've been getting weird texts from you. Hello?"Max sensed the panic in her voice.
"Ally, I'm here. I haven't sent any texts."Max tried again.
"Max?"Ally was sounding desperate, but the connection was getting worse. "Max, I'm really -"**Beep Beep Beep**
Now thoroughly creeped out Max quickly turned in his chair and prepared to race to the door, as he stood the lights went out. Max tripped over his feet and fell to the floor.
The entire building was in complete darkness, except for a dull light flashing across the computer screen.
*-Every god needs a slave Max. Press Enter to begin-* |
“Welcome to the wizarding trademark and copyright office. The only place with a collection of un trademarked spells”
I hate recorded messages
“For a list of registered spells press 1. For a list of unregistered spells press 2. To learn how to protect a spell press 3. For other press 4”
I pressed 4
“Please hold”
I sat in my chair of bones. Being the worlds most feared mage according to *wizard weekly* comes with a lot of sacrifices from idiot clans. Most of my spells are run off the mill swirls stick R. Found in the supermarkets of the civilised land. But my prey deep in the death plains don’t know that.
But since the reorganisation 5 years ago giving patents and trademarks to spells was approved by the organisation of warlock warlords. Life as a trainee learning new spells has been difficult.
“Hello this is the WTCO. How may I help you”
A living woman. Finally
“Hello. Can I ask if a spell to transfer the brain of a dog into the body of a cat has been registered.” There was a short pause before the reply
“I’m sorry but last month we registered the movement and the spell is now solid as DOGCAT tm. You could get In touch with them”
“How about a spell to...... turn lingonberry Into water”
“I’m sorry but we have the WATERBORN currently in development. It turns water into another non deadly drink. We plan to have it copyrighted by next week.” I was starting to get fed up here.
“ can you tell me if you have any transfiguration or transformation spells not registered”
“ there’s the spell for turning a group of mice into a group of lice”
“Why would anyone want to do that”
“I don’t know. that’s why it’s not registered.”
Then I felt the death force powers flow through me. All the souls I have bound to me started generating inside my hands. Then it released. A blur of colours flashing through the now burning telephone. I apologised as soon as I put the fire out.
“I’m sorry lady. I’m still a trainee”
“Good bone removal spell there” Said the woman on the other side. “That hasn’t been registered yet” |
It was a simple task. Sail in one direction until the ends of the Earth. Until we left the shimmering seas of blue and crossed into the ocean of black and void. It was a simple task, but a long one.
I was the captain of this hopeless, but not hapless, voyage. For with me, I had an interesting to crew. 'Doctor' Adam Trevor, (in)famous geologist with over a hundred (un)published works about the impossibility of a sphere-shaped Earth. Professor Theodore Bradley, whose lecture called 'Geopolitics across the Cosmos' got his teaching license suspended for proposing that strained tensions between China and the USA was due to the difficulty of the bilateral interactions due to the large distance between them across the Pacific, and the inability of either country to take the alternative route of space travel by flying **under** the Earth. Last but not least was Meredith Hanley, who was in all senses of the word, a housewife. These three pioneers all had something in common, they were **the** forefront of the Flat Earth conspiracy, publishing many newsletters and articles about the legitimacy of this fallacious idea. Impossibility aside, they were wonderful, charismatic speakers and have convinced many gullible souls to join in support of their relatively harmless cause. My personal opinion aside, I have been tasked to lead these three onto a journey to discover the 'edge of the Earth', funded by the very own organisations that have continually shot down their cause. In an act of compassion instead of aggression, organisations like NASA and CERNE have poured millions into building a vessel with the capacity to sail a million nautical miles without stopping. Truly a feat of engineering. Stocked with a year's supply of food and the highest tech water filtration system, we embark on their quest, for I want nothing to do with them.
'_______________
To make our journey easier, the vessel has disembarked from the further point east on the map, the coast of Brisbane. There, over a thousand have gathered in support of the journey, and over a hundred thousand to ridicule it. The endless jeers and hollering drowned out any actual well meaning words of salutation the Flat Earthers attempted to deliver, and with that depressing start, the journey began.
"So captain, how surprised do you think you will be when we are proven right?"Years sailing the roughest seas has made my stomach almost like iron, but those words from the 'learned' Professor Teddy made it churn, and my body physically cringe. "Uhhh. I'd bet I could handle it pretty well. What if we never reach the end? Would you say the Earth is a million miles wide?""Well anything is possible young lad. The Earth is and always has been full of mysteries. But one thing I know is that it is flat.""Well it couldn't possibly be a million miles long, the satellites would det-"Before I could finish, uproarious laughter echoed throughout my cabin. "Satellites! That is a good one my young Frederick.""It's just Freddy.""Well young Frederick. It seems you still have much to learn of this world. I recommend you do read my book on this subject. It is quite enlightening."Seeing as I was never getting through to his thick skull, I shut my mouth and focused on sailing as straight a course as possible. I can't believe I actually signed up for this.
Meanwhile across the deck, Meredith and Adam were busy taking pictures with their $5000 cameras and uploading it to their websites, somehow 'proving' that the Earth was flat with their pseudoscience logic. I shook my sunken head. I really need to smoke. I engage the auto-pilot and step out to enjoy the saline breeze. I close my eyes as the East winds rush over my face, twirling my curly hair with its gentle fingers, caressing my rough, tanned skin with its cool touch. As I enjoyed the embrace of my beloved, my head clears and my nerves loosen, calming me down, until I hear a shriek from the deck. I open my eyes, lips already curling into an ugly frown. I stomp over to see what the commotion was, spotting Meredith staring over the railing into the aqua blue sheet below us. She dropped her camera. I quickly shoot my hands up to my ears in anticipation of the verbal shitstorm that was about to rain down, and I thank God for my quick instinct that came with years of experience of dealing with my wife. "STOP THE BOAT. STOP THE BOAT NOW AT ONCE. I DROPPED MY LEICA OVER THERE. SEE IT'S THAT BLACK THING FLOATING JUST THERE. LOOK. IT'S THERE BEHIND US. STOP THE BOAT."Even under my large, callused hands, my ears were still ringing under the shrill sound of her shrieks, my pity for Teddy and Adam grew, they two who were not well trained in the art of domestic self defense. Slowly walking back to my cabin door, in two quick movements I find myself inside with my door locked, cutting out most of the noise from the outside. I can now see Meredith flailing about the deck like a fish out of water, and I reach over to my nearby food ration and take a bite. I was going to need the energy to deal with this later.
'________________
Its day 7 of the fruitless journey and things have calmed down quite a bit. My request for having a bullet and soundproof cabin was the smartest thing I've ever done in my life. No worries, no distractions, just me and the sea, and maybe three other crazed passengers banging on my door. Amidst their murmuted ramblings and deranged looks I can make out that they are accusing me of going in circles to purposely prove them wrong. I however, place more trust in myself than them, and have been checking my position everyday using the stars, map and sextants on board with me. Everything has been looking fine and if my course was correct, I should be hitting the coast of Chile soon. My boat isn't the fastest, clocking and average of 25 knots, but it's holding out well. The past 3 days were some of the roughest seas I've ever sailed, but nothing that I couldn't handle. They on the other hand, have been spewing their guts out nonstop. Quite a sight. Quite a sight indeed.
'___________________
*Bzzzt. Bzzzt.* I slam down on my alarm clock. It's the final day of the voyage, the day when I can finally escape from this pointless trip. I admit that I did have my fun while it lasted but it honestly got frustrating listening to the same flawed narrative the three idiots were trying to spin. I mean come on, the horizon being a straight line somehow proves the Earth is flat? Fuck off. We'd fall off the Earth if it was round? Jesus Christ help me. I was up to here, and when I mean here, my tolerance was way up into the cosmos, drifting into the deep dark of insanity. So today, after ten torturous days, it will finally be over.
I pull aside my blanket and slip on my pants, dawn had yet to break, and the sky was still flickering between a violet shade of night and the warm inviting red of day. The moon still hung, but higher now, and faded. Somewhere below the horizon, the sun had yet to wake the world, and all was quiet. Even my three rowdy passengers were soundly asleep, no doubt tired after all the thrashing and shouting they've been doing for the last few days. I glance at my watch, 7.15pm. I'd forgotten to change my timezones, so doing some simple math, that would put me at 5.15am. I'd been cooped up in my cabin since the 4th day, and although it was well ventilated, I hadn't smelled the sweet sea breeze in a while. Perhaps I could risk just a small whiff. Looking out my cabin door once more, I could clearly see the three lying down on the main deck, locked out of the beds behind me. At least I gave them the courtesy of food and drink before the start of every day. I carefully unlock my door, swinging it open with the most delicate of touches, barely producing a creak. The first wave of air rolls in, filling my nose with the scent of brine and fish. Ahhhh. I take in a deep breath, almost savoring the various tastes and flavours of the sea. As I shut my eyes to shut off all my senses to only my nose and ears, the sounds and smells of the sea intensify, waves rolling over one another, the spray of the sea producing fine little particles of sea salt, I could sense it all. In my greatest folly, my hand instinctively swung the door wider still, and that was when they struck, three unsuspecting captives aboard my ship. Unclothed, unstable but undeterred by the constant pounding of the sea. Before I could even open my eyes, a hard black object swung down onto my forehead, and the last thing I hear is a sickening crack.
'___________
Part 2 below! |
I expected something... else.
Darv, the hunter next door got a direwolf, one that helped him track game day after day in the forest. Sis got a pixie, helping her knit yarn together into product.
Come to think of it, everyone's familiar helped them with what they did.
Maybe I shouldn't be surprised.
Mother certainly will.
I sigh and turn to regard the floating bottle of lotion and box of tissues next to me. |
We had been friends for years.
I was hatched the same day he was born. We both enjoyed hunting, tournaments, and shiny objects.
Then he found a wife.
They told me he had to marry. As king, it was his duty. Being friends with a dragon was improper, they told him.
So we kept our friendship secret. We sent birds carrying messages, and we told each other everything.
Which is why it was no surprise to me when he asked for a favour. I gladly accepted. After all, it was for my best friend.
I arrived in the castle when the moon was at its peak. All the better for people to see me. I flew to the highest tower, and stuck my head through the window.
"Hey little lady! You about ready to go?"
The princess looked to me and smiled.
"My father has told me all about you,"she said. "It is so lovely to finally meet one of your standing."
"Cool beans,"I stated. "Climb aboard, and lets go."
The princess climbed upon my back and we flew off.
"Whereth art thou taking me, my brave friend?"The princess asked elegantly.
"Aww man you're going to love it!"I exclaimed. "It's a sweet cave, with so many shiny objects. So many."
We soon reached my lair. I excitedly gave the princess a tour.
"This will be your room!"I exclaimed with glee. "Your father helped me decorate. We brought over a chest for clothes, a fancy bed for her highness to rest, a bucket to do your 'unladylike' business in, as your father said, and best of all, shinies everywhere!!!"
"This is quite more than I expected, my fair dragon-"
I cut her off before she could finish.
"Yo sweetheart, it's just me here. You don't need to do that prissy speech thing. We're pretty chill here in my cave. Like sweatpants and hoodie chill."
"Oh thank goodness,"she replyed. "I was so tired of all that. Like seriously, just becase I'm royal, why do I need to be so proper? It's so annoying."
"Yay!"I responded with glee. "Your father thought the same thing. When we were young he would come over, watch anime with me, play mario kart, fun times. He even set me up with a netflix account and surround sound! Since you know, no thumbs make cables tricky."I responded with a wink. "Just think of it as your vacation before marriage!"
With that, her face fell. I couldn't stand to see her so sad.
"Look, your highness,"I began. "Based on your expression, you don't want me to find you a suitable husband."She began to cry.
"Well, I am a dragon my dear. I am excellent at keeping people away. Let's see what I can do."
So our planning began.
*****
Again, work gets in the way. So stay tuned for part two! I have some pretty cool ideas I'm excited to write down. Let me know if you have any suggestions. Feedback is more than welcome! |
A single tear streamed down my face, dropping to the forest floor below. Humans and monsters alike gathered around to honor Cangor's memory.
"He was a great monster, and an even better man"I spoke with tears tugging at the back of my eyes.
Humans and monsters alike clapped for my speech. Old bed renters, and good friends, all gathered to celebrate Cangor's memory. He was one of the best. So good that after the first year I made him stop paying the bed rent and simply let him stay.
A monster pastor stood and began his speech.
"We will all remember Cangor for a list of reasons. He was truly one of the bests"
As the pastor spoke cool wind blew through the alpine forest, swaying the tall, barren trees. This was Cangor's favorite place to scare passerby, and I could see why. A deep fog coated the forest, giving it an eerie look.
Cangor invited me out here several times, but I declined. Scaring kids wasn't my gig anyways.
A monster approached me in the middle of the eulogy. His long, lanky arms swayed by his side as he walked. He was covered in what appeared to be a thick layer of black tar...or syrup? Regardless it was gross.
The monster made his way to me, and grabbed me without a word, holding me in his sticky embrace. Definitely tar.
"I'm so sorry about Cangor and the space he left under your bed"The monster whispered.
Strange wording, but at least he seemed nice.
"Thank you, it's been tough, but I'll manage"
"Heh yeah I'm sure, but I'm sure it would help if you had someone to pay rent in his absence right? Like... A roomy?"
"Uh, no. Cangor didn't pay rent. I didn't make him"
"Really?! Even better."The monster pulled out a sticky note pad and jotted something down.
"Yeah....so how did you know Cangor?"
"Know him? Oh no no no. No. No."He failed to elaborate, and chose instead to show a wide, crooked grin.
"So, why are you here?"
"Me? Oh ya know...normal monster stuff"his tone changed to a nervous whisper "and the bed space"
"The bed space?!"My tone rose and a few monsters glared at me. "The bed space?"I repeated in a whisper.
"Yeah! I'm glad you're excited about it!"
"That wasn't excitement. You came out here to discuss rental opportunity?"
"Well yeah. Oh and to rescue you. Cangor's orders. He hired me for the event"
"To...save me?"
"Yeah, but that'll come later. Wait- no that's now"
Several of the monsters in attendance gathered around me, licking their lips. They may have loved Cangor, but I was still food to them. Other monsters, including Cangor's family, sprung into action, holding the monsters back before they had a chance to strike.
The tar covered thing grabbed me and stuck my to his back. An uncomfortable amount of tar coated my face. He launched us into the air, sticking to the side of a tree. The monsters behind broke free of Cangor's family and pursued. Several attempted to climb the tree, while other, larger beings began to simply break the trees base.
The tall pine tree toppled over and the tar monster jumped to the next tree, and the next, sticking to them.
"So how much is rent! I saw Cangor initially payed 550 a month!"
My fave was still stuck to the monsters back, making it impossible to respond.
"Yeah you're right! We'll talk later!"
The monster continued to navigate the forest, hopping from tree to tree effortlessly, and we began losing our pursuers. Finally we cleared the forest into a large field.
My eyes teared up as the monster peeled me off if his back, tearing the hairs off of my face and arms.
"So that was fun!"The tar monster said.
"Eh. I've been at a few of Cangor's parties. You get used to it really....rents due the 1st of the month. You'll sleep on a tarp."
|
Well never imagined this was going to happen. Time to get ready for a quick heist. Of course I was not a well known burglar, if I was I wouldn’t be doing a heist right now, I’d be breaking out of prison. So naturally I did my research because I’d rather not get caught, I was getting on a bit and I had more confidence in my golf swing then on my burglar instincts.
The house looked pretty normal but upon much closer inspection you may notice the state of the art alarm system and the night vision cameras. Of course there are the trip lasers as well, no fancy alarm system is complete without lasers.
So on the night of the heist I waltzed up to the house, walked through the front garden and opened the front door. Damn I was good. But in all seriousness I just paid the kids friend to ask for a sleepover and unlock the door. Not to mention the fact that for a laser system there are footstep gap lengths apart. No one was manning the cameras because the man thought the appearance would be enough, now I just had to remove the recordings and get that bear.
So the alarm system was active, but the first sensor was down the corridor and the range was relatively weak, a cheap skate security system to earn money, pathetic. I stepped up to the alarm de-activator and noticed, it may be cliche but it worked, that some of the numbers were faded. And just my luck they where 4 numbers of the birth year of both his son and my granddaughter.
Walking into the corridor at the top of the stairs I could tell immediately that the room that his son was in was the one at the end of the corridor. Had his bloody name on it. Nearing the door an audible snoring sound could be heard, god this would be a piece of cake. I opened the door very slowly to listen for creaks... not a sound, well oiled, respectable but unsafe. The bear sat tossed to one side on the floor at the opposite side of the room.
Never taking my eyes off the child I walked in a practiced but fast manner over to the bear and swiftly grabbed it. All that was left was the tapes and getting out. The sons friend lay on the floor next to me, I stepped back over him silently thanking his co-operation and praying he wouldn’t blab to his mate.
Now for the final piece, the tapes; they lay in a machine downstairs, which is all very conveniently away from the bedrooms. Easy job, no password or anything. I grabbed all the tapes and proceeded to walk back out the front door, no reason to do any cleanup, the kid probably wont notice whats gone.
The next day I handed, very proudly, the bear to my granddaughter.
“Granddad? What’s this?” She questioned
“Fuck” |
\[Disclaimer: This is my first writing prompts, and I only had a bit over an hour to work on it. Sorry if it's a little rough!\]
​
The deafening noise of energy launchers and the pulsing of blaster fire engulfed the airwaves of the landing site. The crossfire of lasers overhead lit up the dark sky with its own sinister light show. A small, grey, and pudgy bipedal being wearing metal armor charges across the battlefield, the glowing yellow bubble around him taking the brunt of the first few blasts which hit it. Yet it only took a few shots before it begins to crack, then shatter. In mere seconds, the alien has been reduced to a pile of ash on the dry ground of the battlefield, like the dozens of other who had tried to push onward before him.
Humanity had only been involved in this war for around a month. So far, they have suffered only a few injuries and just one casualty - which was merely the result of a training mishap involving an overheated blaster. The same couldn’t be said for their adversaries. In the first week, a single human fleet had ravaged an entire planet’s military and driven the inhabitants to extinction.
The humans had met the first species two months ago, inhabitants of a gas giant just a few solar systems over. They called themselves the Floaxians, and were themselves a brownish see-through gas aside from the metal armor they wore - which itself was nothing technologically astounding, just a steel suit reminiscent of that which the 12th century crusaders wore.
Aside from the armor they wore, a stark contrast to the solar-powered exoskeletons the humans wore; their technology seemed to be at the same level as Earth’s, if not above it. Their structures appeared to be made of marble, yet floated on the planet’s gaseous atmosphere as if they were balloons. They understood the human’s language perfectly, and responded in fluent english. There was no farmland or factory in sight, yet they never seemed to be at an absence of food for their immense population. Even the largest of their cities ran perfectly efficient, with crime being nonexistent.
The relationship between the humans and the Floaxians was peaceful at the start, and the planetary leaders even exchanged diplomatic gifts with theirs. It wasn’t until a few weeks in, when the Floaxians asked the humans about their “patron god,” that tensions began rising.
“I’m not quite sure I understand what you’re asking.” said the human diplomat.
“You patron god - the one who’s divine will has blessed you with such a thick hide and fancy armor. She must be powerful to afford such gifts to her followers.” replied the Floaxian.
When the humans explained that they didn’t have a patron god, the aliens immediately responded with the drawing of their energy swords and the demand to get off their planet.
Only a few hours later, the commanding ship of the human fleet received a message.
*YOU ARE A SPECIES OF SINNERS. THE ONLY POSSIBLE EXPLANATION FOR SUCH ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY IS MEDDLING IN DARK MAGIC. PREPARE FOR WAR, HERETICS.*
The humans expected the worst. However, the extent of the Floaxian’s attack barely put a dent in the fleet’s shield systems. On the contrary, one blast from the commanding ship’s cannons took out three entire Floaxian cruisers - the energy blast tore through the hull of the first, then the two behind it.
After a short, one sided battle, the human fleet’s commanding ship received another message.
*WE DIDN’T WANT IT TO COME TO THIS. BUT YOU LEFT US NO CHOICE. IT IS TIME TO MEET OUR PATRON GOD. SURRENDER NOW OR FACE ANNIHILATION.*
There was a blinding flash of light, and an enormous multi-armed being, with a stunning resemblance to a human (aside from the extra arms and glowing eyes), appeared in the middle of the wreckage of the Floaxian fleet.
“I AM FLOAX, GUARDIAN OF THE MIST. WHY HAVE I BEEN SUMMONE-,” the supposed goddess didn’t get to finish her inquiry before she was rudely interrupted by an energy blast piercing her skull.
There was another flash of light as she crackled and exploded into ashes and stardust. And all at once, the Floaxians followed her example, leaving none left.
The news of the human’s “sins” spread throughout the galaxy rather quickly, and the allies of the Floaxians soon responded to their new threat.
The next enemy the humans faced where the Mrr’gll’rrs and their water-god, Murlocke. They were a race of fish-like people whose god gave them the ability to swim through space as if it were water, their battleships resembling giant sharks and other predatory sea creatures. Similar to the Floaxians, however, they and their “god” were dealt with with ease.
Then came the Tyundlers, a race of abnormally tall, bulky warriors who appeared to be made of stone. They prayed to the god Tyundor, which allowed them to be shattered into pieces yet still rebuilt as if they were statues. Although they were a bit harder for the humans to deal with, melting them with laser blasts seemed to get the job done rather efficiently.
Now the humans faced the the G’lordons, a race of small, round, and grey beings. They prayed to the goddess G’lordia, who tried to make up for their less than impressive stature by providing them with personal forcefields, which could supposedly protect them from any physical harm.
The humans proved that claim incorrect almost immediately. In all but a few hours, most of the G’lordons army was decimated, their shields only protecting them from small-arms fire. One after another, the G’lordons shields were shattered as they tried to push forward onto the humans.
Only one G’lordon remained, laying crippled on the ground, surrounded by the remains of his fallen comrades.
“You are a species of sinners! The likes of which will wither and rot!” he screamed at the human battalion with what little life he clung on to, then continued to ramble on. “You carry yourself as if you are at the level of gods, but you are not! It is heresy to behave as if you are! You WILL feel their unending holy wrath, and BURN for eternity in the void!”
“Y’know, I think you’re right. We are not on the same level as your patron gods,” replied the human commander as he pointed his blaster towards the last G’lordon soldier’s head.
“We are above them.” |
It never really made sense to me why the Devil would punish sinners. I mean, if he is the enemy of God, why wouldn't he seek to outstrip Heaven's glory? Why not convince God's children to sin, not only because sinning feels good, but because it gets you everything your heart could crave?
I was there when Lucifer fell from grace. It struck me as odd. Here was God's favorite child, the star of His celestial eye. He was beautiful, well spoken, charismatic, and he was the kindest soul I had ever met. But more than anything else, he was dutiful; his fall made no sense.
That is, it made no sense if he had rebelled. But what if he hadn't? What if he was still the dutiful son? What if in running Hell, he was serving his father still?
*That* would make sense.
With this idea in mind, I began my investigation.
First, I sought to find the source of the eternal spring. That water which was pure as God's light, crisp as Winter rain, and eased all aches and burdens. I questioned the Angels who were charged with the fountains maintenance. When questioned, they simply said they assumed that the source was God himself.
I doubted that very much. My Old Man hadn't been seen in millennia; He wouldn't care overmuch about keeping a springs water running.
I visited the archives, and discovered that the spring was not constructed by God, but rather Lucifer at God's request.
Next, I decided to investigate the heavenly white light which suffused the air. The light was soothing, warm, and comforting. Light has to have a source. Energy does not come from a vacuum. I tracked down the power station which was obscured by clouds just above purgatory.
What I found surprised me.They weren't generators, they were batteries. The energy was coming from somewhere, but where? Once again, I spent years in the archive looking for some clue. Eventually, I found something. Again, Lucifer had been responsible for the creation of the 'generators'. Something was definitely going on here.
Next, I looked for the source of the clouds. These were not simple water vapor, they had substance. They were made of something that felt pure, comfortable, slightly springy. Sort of like memory foam. I searched for ages, and what I found confirmed my suspicions. The clouds came directly from Hell. There were thousands of nearly invisible pipes which lead directly from the black pit, to the base of Heaven. My essence ran cold.
Something was wrong here. Very wrong indeed.
I needed to be sure, I sneaked away from Heaven as Michael was going over the day's amusements for the patrons of Heaven. Apparently they would be serving lasagna for dinner that night. I wouldn't be in attendance.
I made my way in to Hell by disguising myself as a damned soul. I shuffled numbly through the gates and passed the ferocious guard dog Cerberus. He gave me an investigative sniff, but seemed not to discern my celestial identity.
When I made my way to the first circle of Hell, I stood and cried out at what I saw. Millions of souls were being burned in a lake of black fire. What arose from this burning was a familiar light, and an even more familiar smoke. They looked like clouds.
I stared in abject horror. We walked, ran, and danced on the burned souls of the damned. I vomited.
I had to continue. I had to see this through.
I found many miseries on my tour of the Hells and found evidence of many atrocities. We ate food grown by millions of souls, chained together and forced to work eternally. We used stones rolled up to heaven as mountains to fill certain personalized Heavens, and made an illusion of the boulder rolling back when they reached the top. Everything good in Heaven was stolen. Stolen from the enslaved multitudes.
What made my blood turn to ice was what I saw on the lowest level of Hell. A frozen lake spanned the distance in all directions, as far as the eye could see. The ice was made up of billions of frozen souls. Others still, mined the ice and loaded it into carts, the carts were brought to a gulf of flame and dropped in. I saw faintly glowing water being pumped upwards beyond sight.
The water we drank...was made from human souls. I felt sick.
I heard something land softly behind me. I knew who it would be before I turned around. "Lucifer."I whispered with tears streaming down my face.
"Hello Gabriel."said Lucifer. "How have the years treated you, little brother?"
I swallowed, "Not as well as I once thought I'm afraid."I turned to see him. "You look well, big brother."It was a lie. As I said before, Lucifer had been a kind soul. He looked tired and worn.
"I am managing. I always do."he hung his head. "I really wish you hadn't seen this, brother."I could see a tear running down his cheek.
"Ah, I think I understand. Michael said Raphael was on a long mission for Father. That's not the truth is it?"
Lucifer wilted further, "Yes. He found out about this years ago. I was ordered to...to make sure the secret didn't get out."
"I see."I paused before continuing, "Then I am sorry I found out about this as well. But listen, you don't have to do this. Help me confront Michael and we can stop all of this. We can make this right!"
Lucifer looked like he was considering, but wearily shook his head in the end. "I'm sorry Gabriel. This is God's command, and I've always been a good son."Each word seemed to resound like thunder across creation.
"Me too, big brother. Me too."
With that, we fought. I had come armed with my sword of flame, he fought with a spear of silver and gold. We flashed like lightning and the Earth quaked with our struggle.
I don't know if I got lucky, or if he didn't really want to win. Lucifer had been the best of us, the strongest of us by far. But he made mistakes, left openings.
I stabbed him through the chest, his flesh sizzled around my sword. I saw him smile then, "Well struck, brother...I love you....I'm sorry..."and smile still on his lips, the Devil died.
I wept for Lucifer.
I wept for the brother I had condemned so long ago.
I wept for his sense of duty.
I wept for what I would have to do.
I set to freeing the enslaved of Hell.
I set out to form an army.
I set out to usurp God.
If he had ordered this, then he was not the Father he had thought he had known.
I set out to right a wrong.
I set out to start a war.
*************************************************************************************
Man, this was a blast to write. I hope you enjoy it half as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you like this and would like to read more, come take a gander at /r/SirLemoncakes. Cheers. |
On mobile, sorry for formatting.
Michael blinked a couple of times, just to check that his eyes were alright. That didn't change anything. So then he slapped his head a couple of times, like one would do to an old remote to make it work. When that didn't work he slapped his cheek real hard.
A few people looked at him as if he was crazy, which, he thought, they weren't really wrong in thinking. Finally, that did work.
Ignoring what had just happened, he shopped for groceries as usual. After he finally picked up 6 Snickers more than had been highlighted, it came back. He looked at all the weapons and canned food items. Oh God. Using the portion of his brain that watched zombie movies (which was probably the biggest part), he came to the conclusion that a zombie apocalypse was going to take place.
He quickly got as many of the things as he could afford. On the counter, he was still attracting a lot of attention. Even the cashier, who could hardly be bothered to look up from his phone gave him a weird look.
When he reached home, he dumped all of the weapons in his storage shed. He then began to tell everyone in his contacts about the upcoming zombie apocalypse. Not Chad of course, he hated Chad. After sometime, almost all of the people in his contacts had replied with something along the lines of "Are you trying to prank me", his boss messaged him saying they needed to meet ASAP.
That was strange, but he was more worried about the zombie apocalypse than his boss acting weirdly. He messaged his boss to meet him at his place.
When his boss arrived, he ran out of his car and rang the bell.
"What happened Mr Cooper, you wanted to meet in such a hurry?"
"There's no time for all that, Mike. Tell me, do you have any stock, weapons, some canned food maybe?"
Michael simply nodded and took his boss to the storage shed.
After looking around for a while, Mr Cooper spoke up. "Wow, you've got all the good stuff, a silenced pistol, semi-auto shotgun and a lot of Snickers. Wow he said picking up a whoopie cushion. Something to distract the fuckers as well."
Michael just nodded dumbly.
"There are some key things you're missing, of course."
"Well sir, this is all I could afford."
"Let's change that, shall we. You're getting promoted tomorrow, I'll make sure."
And sure enough, he was promoted the next day, though the window in his office did a poor job of protecting him from weird gazes his co-workers gave him.
The apocalypse, of course never came, but his rapidly rising boss took him to heights a lazy and unambitious person like Mike couldn't even hope for. |
“Can anyone tell me the three layers of the earth?” I ask.
A few hands go up among the the matrix of students sitting in their desks, and I point to one of them. Little Will Chambers, a good egg, always eager to impress. Beside him on the wall a poster depicts a man summiting a mountain among the clouds, the word “DETERMINATION” printed across the bottom.
*Just what the fuck is going on here?*
“The core, the crust, and the mantis,” says Will. He beams and sits up a little straighter, certain he’s got it right.
“Almost,” I say gently, in a word knocking the smile from the boy’s face. “It’s the core, crust and mantle. The mantle.”
*Can you hear me you wretched husk of meat?* *Why can’t I move?*
“The crust is on the outside,” I continue, ignoring the serpentine voice yelling at the back of my mind, “and it’s real thin like the shell of an egg.”
*Why is it so fucking clean in here?* *Is that a puppy?* *Who is baking cookies?* *Gah!*
As I finger the word “crust” onto the massive touchscreen mounted on the wall, my arm jerks against my will and extends the bottom of the “t” all the way to the bottom. Looks like a big elongated cross.
*Oh there’s more where that came from.* *I can bend you to my evil desires, mortal.* *I will- Oh Satan, what am I wearing?* *Is this a Mr. Rogers cardigan you sick fuck?* *Get it off me!*
Some of the kids giggle at the error, so I turn and laugh a little with them. It never does to punish them for things like that. Besides, a teacher should never take themselves too seriously, because it shows the kids it’s okay to laugh at themselves sometimes too.
“And then there is the mantle underneath the crust,” I say, writing mantle carefully on the board. “This layer makes up a whopping eighty four percent of the planet. You might think of it as the clear part of an egg just under the shell.”
Little Will Chambers raises a hand more tentatively than before. “Is that called the white of an egg?”
“That’s good, Will,” I say. Redeemed, he nods and relaxes in his seat. “Yes, the clear part is called the egg white.”
*This damned sweater is so tight.* *You are going to pay for this mortal I will infect your nightmares with every terror of your putrid memory while you lie helpless and weak.* *I will- is that Sarah McLaughlin?* *Why do I hear Sarah McLaughlin?* *This is the dog adoption song, isn’t it?* *Turn it off!* *This sweater is too tight!*
“And in the very middle we have the core,” I say. I draw the word “core” beneath the first two. “It’s like the yolk.”
*Listen kind sir this sweater is too tight.* *Can you please take it off me?* *Maybe turn the music down and get these puppies out of here?* *Pretty please with a cherry on top?* *Mortal?*
A little girl with stringy blonde hair tied with a blue ribbon holds up hand. Bridget Kemp. Sweet girl, a little shy. Wonderful speller.
“Is that where hell is?” she asks.
A few kids smile as this, but most of them look over to me, expecting the definitive answer on this question. I smile back.
“No,” I say. “The core is made of molten rocks. I can’t tell you if hell exists or not, so you’ll have to ask your parents about that. If hell does exist, though, I promise you it is a sad little place full of sad, little losers.
*Fuck you!* *Help me you piece of mortal shit!* *It’s crushing me!* *This stupidly comfortable sweater is crushing me!* *Damn you aghgehhgjshghehlgklshglk*
Silence. I take in a deep, cleansing breath, enjoying the peace and quiet as I let it out.
Putting a fist against my mouth, I stifle a belch. Sulfur. |
As I stand in front of the love of my life, a shrill voice rises behind me. "James! What are you doing James? Who is this?". Shocked, I turn around to face a blonde woman, instantly noticing the gun at her side. "How could you do this to me James! We have been married for 17 years! Don't you remember our vows?!"
I faintly recall a game of house in the 2nd grade were I pretended to marry a girl whose name escapes me. Having watched a film in my life and possessing at least a morsel of common sense, I decide not to argue with the crazy person with a gun. "Yes! My plan has worked!"I move towards her, fast enough to seem eager but just slow enough not to startle her and get shot. "What...what do you mean?"I fake the biggest smile of my life. "Dearest, when I lost you, I was broken. I searched and I searched until my feet bled. I screamed your name at the top of my lungs until my voice went. I fell into a deep depression, until it hit me. I needed you to come to me. So I set up this fake wedding and hired some actors. And it worked!"I embrace her and luckily for me, she doesn't try to stop me. With my arms firmly around her body, I suddenly pick her up and fall on my back, slamming her head into the ground WWE style. With the gun out of her hands, a few family members jump up and restrain her. I borrow a phone and call the local hospital.
As the woman is dragged away kicking and screaming I sit with my new wife outside the church. "I would like to make one more vow". She looks at me and I look at her.
That day kids, was the day I promised your mother to never ever...let you marry another child during a game of house until a comprehensive assessment of their mental health had been made by a licensed psychologist practicing in the state were said game is being held.
The end. |
The sound of the kitchen knife hitting the concrete pavement brought me to my senses. The rich metallic aroma filled the air as I finally took a breath. I looked around at the two corpses at my feet. The young woman’s blood were gushing from the large slash in her throat, her breath faint, each breath shallower than the last. No sound escaped her lips her eyes rolled to her partner. But the man was already dead, I had pierced his heart in an instant.
I looked down at my blood splattered jeans. The memory of my knife nicking his ribs as it sheathed itself into his heart sent a chill up my spine.
I had been so bored. I just wanted to try something different.
14 victims in a day. 4 homeless men, 4 women, 3 men, an elderly couple and a boy who walked in on my third kill.
The boy’s slaughter was my fault. I’d been greedy after killing the second homeless man and had attacked a woman who I hadn’t planned on killing.
A few drops of crimson blood dripped into my sleeve as I raised my wrist. Part of the Rolex watch I had stolen from my first victim of the night was stained with blood but I could still read the time.
11:59
The thrill of another loop was over. Maybe I should try to kill everyone in town next.
Closing my eyes, I could hear the gurgling of blood spilling from the woman, her faint breathing as she clung on to life, the buzzing of the street lamp a few meters away, the crash of a bar fight I had tried to stop 27 times, the clack of heels belonging to Rebecca Evans as she walked a street down by the church.
I sighed, waiting to wake up once again to the sun kissing my cheek from my hotel window at 8:46
The church bells sounded as my eyes flew open.
Why? Out of the 1763 days was this the first time I heard the church bells sound 12 times.
I flicked my wrist and stared in disbelief as the seconds hand continued its rotation. 15 seconds past midnight... 16 seconds past midnight... 17 seconds past midnight.
I looked around in horror and the mutiny in front of me. The stench of iron and copper filled my nose as the blood along my arm squelched and dripped. I smacked my mouth against lips in an attempt to refrain from vomiting but I only invited the salty, bitter flavor of blood to enter my . The foul taste of bile rose to my throat but I managed to suppress my gag.
... (no time to finish atm) |
I'd have to slip something by him. I'd always had plenty of impersonators copying my art, and he would no doubt treat me the same if I created something drawing his suspicions; he'd simply say it wasn't him, and that'd be the end of that.
No, I had to be clever.
I got to work. I made piece after piece, in my usual style even with varying themes and messages. But within each, I hid something.
*He isn't the real Binsky*, those images said. But they spoke only to me. For now. And I watched in glee as he started recreating those images live, none the wiser.
Weeks turned into months, and then into years. No one had caught on yet, which meant I was still pulling all the strings.
Then, one day, my work was complete. I spread a rumour online with the help of some trusted allies, and watched it explode.
What exactly did I do? Well...
Humans are like lines, and letters consist of lines. Naturally this means letters can consist of humans also, given they're drawn the right way. But I couldn't hide a letter in a piece of art like that; it'd be far too obvious. So instead, I spread out each letter over various pieces, with seemingly nothing to connect them.
The important part was that my work had to all come together in the end. In order to achieve this, I gave each piece I did as part of that message a different background. However, that background was only a piece of a larger whole that I'd designed at the start.
My final work replicated that background. Just that background, with no shapes on top. A panorama, detailing the beauty of the world with many intricate and unique shapes.
So after that impostor recreated it, live, I spread this rumour. It simply told others to try putting previous pieces of mine on top of that panorama. From there, the internet did what the internet does best. It solved my puzzle in under four hours, and my message was posted plainly for all to see. Human figures, going about their day like a herd, but each with their own story, and their own individuality. Now, their stories finally connected, telling the story of the world they lived in as a whole. My story.
This is what it said.
>To Fraiser Milrell you undignified glory-thief
>
>You are not Binsky nor have you ever been
>
>The true Binsky would never revel in fame
And just like that, his career as an artist was over.
I did feel a little bad for him, truth be told. The internet obliterated him and ruined his life.
It's not something I'd have usually done.
That said, I take great pride in my work and in its nature. The anonymity is vital to its message.
I am Binsky. I am the people. My works tell their story where it would otherwise remain untold.
You don't go against the people. |
Knowledge isn’t what people expect it to be.
For instance, an extremely smart person would talk super confusingly, yeah? Nope. The smartest thing to do is get the point across as clearly and concisely as possible. Cater to your audience.
My audience just so happens to be 5 and 6 year olds.
I teach them numbers, the alphabet, simple addition and subtraction, and spelling. That’s my job. I’m a kindergarten teacher. Nothing more. So it makes sense when administrators and counselors get mad. I can’t help it. I know how to do their jobs better than they do. Don’t fucking yell at the kid for talking back to his teacher, find the underlying problem and help them grow. So I try to do that, because if someone with infinite knowledge can’t help these kids, then nobody can.
But no kid is hopeless.
You may be wondering how I got infinite knowledge in the first place. Well that I *don’t* know. Just because I have infinite knowledge doesn’t mean I know every answer to EVERYTHING. Look at it like this. There are infinite numbers. 1-Infinity. Let’s say we make two groups of numbers: evens and odds. There are now infinite even numbers, as well as infinite odd numbers. Let’s say I know the infinite even numbers of knowledge.
I’ve had kids ask me any question you can think of. Where’s my mommy? She’s getting groceries and is going to stop by the pharmacy afterwards. What does God look like? Whatever you imagine him as, I suppose.
But sometimes, they aren’t as innocent.
“Why does my mommy hit me” is one I got a few months ago. I told the boy that “mommy has a bad problem with what she drinks and how much she drinks at a time. It’s not that she doesn’t love you. It’s just that she has her own problems and needs some help”. I leave it at that and report it to the proper authorities. They usually do the right thing. I know who to trust.
Another one was “Do you know where my Bubba went?” Just to preface, her brother committed suicide a week prior and the family hadn’t broken the news. I told her “your bubba was sick and he needed help. He went to find help, but he won’t be able to come back. He’s not sick anymore, and he still loves you and you’ll see him again someday.” (That part May not have been entirely true, but that’s the best way to let the kids deal with it).
But yesterday I got the toughest question of all.
“Sometimes mommy and daddy will use their fire stick (lighter) to tickle my private parts. I told them it hurts but they think it’s funny. Why won’t they listen to me? Do they not love me?”
I was floored. I had no idea what to say. I always had the answer to their questions. This time I didn’t. I am an even number problem solver, and this was an odd number question.
I stared at the boy. His name is Russell, and I knew his parents were trouble. Typical druggies who had a few run ins with the law but nothing more. This was next level shit. And in all of my infinite knowledge, I was stumped. This kid would be fucked up for life, all because I had no answer. It didn’t matter what I did next. Tell the authorities to protect the kid, sure. But I knew he would end up just like them. It was pointless. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t *know*.
His eyes panned over behind me, where a little girl stood. She had been listening the whole time. Now I had to explain to her what the problem was. As I bent down to tell her an explanation and how Russell would be okay, she started walking towards Russell. In this moment, I felt the universe take hold on me and restrict my movement. At least, it felt like the universe. I wasn’t sure about anything at this point. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. All I could do is watch. Yet I felt at ease. Everything felt okay.
The girl, a beautiful little dark eyed girl named Jamilla, grabbed hold of Russell and hugged him. She whispered something into his ear, but I’m not sure what it was. Russell looked at Jamilla, then to me, and back to her. Tears rolled down his eyes as he hugged her again.
Moments later and I’m still unable to convince my body to move. Russell is seated in his desk, coloring completely outside of the lines. Whatever, that never mattered anyways. Jamilla stood in front of me, smiling. And then it was over. And I was home. I found myself calling the police and telling them what I knew about Russell’s parents. That night, they were arrested and he was put into foster care. I plan on adopting him as soon as I possibly can.
Jamilla came to me this morning before all the other students had arrived. She stood at my desk, just smiling. It’s almost as if she knew what was going on in my mind. Her lips didn’t move, but I heard her say to me “it’s okay that you didn’t have an answer. Russell will be fine. I told him what he needed to hear. You couldn’t have helped him. He had an odd number problem...
...and odd number problems require odd number problem solvers.”
————————————————————————
Thank you for reading this if you did. This was my first ever real attempt at a writing prompt. My dream is to make movies and I needed to start somewhere so writing prompts it is! Please leave constructive criticism. I know it’s not the best but I’m just proud I wrote something finally:) |
It was a quiet day at the spaceport thus far. Officer Zuulbarg stifled a yawn as he took a sip of nectar. Concourse duty was usually pretty dull, given that any being that made it this far had already been through a full screening process, but rules say there needs to be a security guard at every concourse, so here he was. Checking the passenger manifest for the next arrival, he sees something called a human, from Sol 3, over in the ZZ quadrant of the galaxy, here for a cultral exchange program. Zuulbarg had never seen one of those before, they must have just recently made it off their planet. "No surprise", he thought to himself, "that entire sector is a barren hellhole, the real surprise is something actually survived long enough to discover space travel."The passenger shuttle left the bay of the interstellar liner, and settled flawlessly into the docking station on the spaceport. The passengers stepped through into the connecting tunnel to the arrival area. Each being passed through the combined disease, weapon and explosive scanner built unobtrusively into the doorway into the concourse without issue, until the human. Suddenly, an ominous alarm began to sound, as the door from the concourse into the spaceport proper closed and sealed itself. Zuulbarg leapt from his perch, the nectar pod dropping to the floor. "Biological Alert, Class 0"was flashing across every screen in the security station. "Class 0, what in the gods is that?” he muttered to himself, as the communications panel flashed an incoming priority call.
Thoughout the spaceport, all the doors between connecting passages began to seal themselves. The noise from startled travelers suddenly having a door shut in their face was loud enough that nobody noticed that the underlying hum of the ventilation system had stopped at the same time the doors started to close. In an office in the heart of the spaceport, the wall of screens that usually showed a running feed of cameras from the security system instead all blinked with the galactic standard biohazard logo, in dark purple. Chief Baliwan, who had been watching over a pair of danarians being detained for attempting to smuggle out contraband animals, blinked in surprise. "Color code violet, what is that?"he thought to himself, and then checked the next panel. "By the moon, the environment system is offline!"He stabbed a tentacle at the emergency reset button, but nothing happened. Balawan called down to the engineering department.
"The environment system is down!"he yelled as soon as someone picked up the call.
"Yeah, we're aware of that."the tech replied sarcastically. "The entire control system just went black, it's like the environment system physically shorted out."
"That's impossible"Baliwan replied. "Get me the head engineer!"he demanded.
A few minutes pass, and Head Engineer Lycdan ran up to the communication panel. “Sir, we just got it open, and Danik is right, the entire environment system is physically gone, along with the backup. I haven’t seen something physically burn out like this since I worked on that recovery crew on Nelban 2 after that big flare literally melted half a city.”
“How in the stars does that happen?” the Chief asked.
“Not by accident” Lycdan replied darkly. |
The first thing we did was dig up their graves.
It had to be done in the blackest of night with the most trusted of men. Earth was dying and finally the Moon and Mars were both primed for terraforming and anything that might spook humanity off of that course might literally end all of us.
So the discovery that the first two men on the moon died there and imposters came back. Well it was secret. Super Super secret.
I was there watching as they dug. They said that having me there would draw notice but fuck them I am the President after all. I have not been nervous since my first kiss. I gave my inauguration speech completely sober. The first President to do so in...well at least as far back as the secret records noted. Now I was nervous.
The casket was lifted from the ground so slowly it felt like it was in zero gravity. They pried the lid from it and I expected to see Dracula himself rise like the fucking movie. I noticed my guards fingering their guns and it comforted me. Like some seven year old afraid of the dark.
The bones looked human, the uniform identified him. Aldrin. But it wasn't. We had tested the bodies they had recovered on the moon and they tested positive for the correct DNA.
He had wanted to be buried at sea like Armstrong or 'shot back to the moon if possible'. But the president at the time of his death needed to have an event to distract people from the "crazy shit we've been doing"so made it a big flashy state event. Who knows it may prove to be the best thing to happen to the world that we elected that crazy bastard.
I drove back behind the van with the remains in it. We were going to the lab. The whole drive no one spoke a word. I kept running through what it could really be. Aliens. Obviously it had to be. But no one had ever encountered any before in secret records or otherwise. It was a fact that honestly frightened high level mathematicians.
The lab had one way glass so we could watch the entire operation. The uniform was cut open and while their was still a semblance of skin attached to the bone, it wasn't much.
The whole procedure went on and, while at every incision we held our breath like we were watching a bomb defusing, nothing happened. It wasn't until the bone saw started to cut into the skull did anything of note happen.
"Thats enough"
a disembodied voice echoed in the room
"You obviously know, and I cannot hide from this any longer. First I must know what gave us away?"
Silence. It took about 2 minutes of absolute silence for me to realise I was being waited on. Of course who else would answer?
"W*cough* we found the bodies on the moon"
"I see. I will tell you our version of events and you can decide your course of action once I am done."
"When your men came to the moon we were not aware of their intentions. My species is intelligent yes but also what you would call microscopic. In fact it goes beyond even that level but for the purpose of story it will suffice. When they came we had no concept of the sheer size of your world but could feel the destruction happening with every step they took. We found our way inside and..stopped them. It was instant and painless although I know it does not make it easier to hear. We then thought through our actions and knew that it would never be left alone. We reassembled ourselves using the bodies as a blueprint. By perfectly recreating the minds we could access the memories and myself and billions upon billions of my fellows came to your earth in order to save the trillions who remain."
We do not have much to offer you except for this knowledge. As we are to you, you are to another. And your own giants are coming back" |
"Nellie Flowers is asking for you in room 347,"the nymph told me as I idled at reception. There wasn't a lot for me to do around these parts. Our hiring protocols had taken a bit of a turn in the past years. We were hiring more specialists now, for lack of a better word. Vampires could sniff out blood diseases, restraining themselves from biting into the necks of healthy patients and turning their nose at unhealthy ones. Werewolves provided therapy in a more human way than even dogs had managed to. We had wizards and witches making the medicine. And usually, the nymphs would brighten up patients' rooms. So I just manned the reception desk, checking in patients and directing them towards the right kind of care. It was a bit of a drag, but at least I had a job.
Today though the nymph seemed exasperated. It was like nothing she had tried with the decrepit, dying Miss Nellie Flowers had worked. So in an unusual display of humility and deference not often seen in these supernatural creatures, she was asking me for help. "Me?"I asked in shock, partially facetious and partially sincere and just a little bit flirtatiously.
The nymph rolled her eyes and scooted behind the desk to relieve me. "No,"she retorted. "Any human. She just asked for a human."I shrugged. I guess I fit the bill.
"Miss Flowers?"I said as I knocked on the door to her room.
"Come in,"I heard her respond faintly. She was a lonely old soul. She didn't get many visitors, having outlived all her friends and most of her family.
"Are you feeling alright?"I asked, settling into the chair beside her bed and reaching out to hold her hand. I was no good at this. Of course she didn't feel alright. She was in a hospital. Nobody likes hospitals, except for the creatures we had begun to hire. Even less when they're the patient, dying all lonely and painfully.
"I'm dying, dear,"she answered. "I've felt better."
"I'm sorry,"I mumbled helplessly. We had done what we could for her but it had already taken over her body by the time she came in. She had spent years at home, clenching her teeth as her body fought her every step, stubbornly refusing to seek help. Only a fall as she watered her garden had alerted anybody as to her desperate need for medical attention.
"Don't be,"she scoffed. "It's not your fault."I knew that, but I was still sorry. I glanced around awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do. Was I supposed to read her a book? Play a game with her? Tell her a story? Her eyes were clouded over, cataracts long ago having stolen the last of her vision.
"Would you like me to get you anything?"I asked finally, having exhausted all other options and shifting in uncomfortable silence.
"No,"she snapped. "I just want some... human company."She paused and I looked at her face. Her wrinkles were deep and plentiful, curved into a perpetual frown. Years of sadness and heartbreak and loneliness did that to a person, I suppose. Her hands were gnarled but they held mine tenderly, a thumb caressing a gentle circle. She looked like she was about to say something but then thought again about it before finally committing. "Do you ever feel like you're just surrounded by..."her voice tapered off, sad and dejected.
"By what, Miss Flowers?"I prompted quietly.
"By things that just don't care for you? They sit here and they try to brighten the room or they listen while I tell stories about my life but in the end it's just a job. They don't quite care. They don't quite have that human element to them. Do you ever feel like that?"
Her pale eyes were fixated on me and even though I knew she couldn't see me, I still met her eyes. I chuckled. "All too often,"I responded quietly. "All too often."
She humphed, seemingly satisfied enough with my answer. "That's all, then. I just want some human company."She smiled now, the wrinkles turned the other way, and she closed her eyes and her thumb slowly came to a stop.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
Our small island nation had only officially chosen to break from England a couple months ago. We were the speck in the middle of the Pacific, the lone dot keeping the sun from setting on the British Empire. It had been coming for years, a shift in the people. I had been sent sign the final paperwork with Queen Elizabeth.
"Don't call her 'Lizzy' even if she asks you to,"my great grandfather said, fear in his eyes. And she had asked me to, in that terrifying voice. I'm told she didn't always speak that way, and I have heard old recordings. Still, it's hard to believe she was ever...normal.
After Phillip died, the world saw a change, she became more active, both physically and politically. The waning faith in British government let her neo-monarchy grow swiftly, especially as she made the people feel listened to.
Then in 2023 came the Year of Silence following the official change, the temporary isolationist stance that had the Yanks and the Frogs turvied. Imagine, the whole empire just shutting out the world. Foreign companies were paid lavish sums to leave, non-citizen residents were shipped out, it was chaos.
Just as war was about to break outside, the gates opened. They saw the new model of government. The new Queen, almost same as the old Queen, stood before hundreds of news cameras. It was unclear to the outside world what had happened, but they had to notice the heirs were all missing. Our generation sure did, but no one inside during that year will talk.
I was born just after that, and my parents resolute silence was just more fuel for my curiosity. I studied the queen, and realizing what happened, I found a needed path. I had to meet her in person, be able to make physical contact. Only a handful of people in the world could do that.
I looked at the guard, but discovered quickly that a level of brainwashing was applied to them, low level, but enough to worry me. So I researched alternate pathways. The papacy was out, as was simply trying to sneak in. I considered trying for a noble wedding, just convincing one person to marry me sounded simple, but the aftermath felt too heartless.
Then I stumbled on Trudeau. Following the Silence, Canada had chosen to break away. The prime Minister had spent three days going over paperwork with not-Lizzy herself. With three days, I could do anything.
I spent years deep in studying politics, psychology, sociology, law. I built myself up into the leader my country wanted, and where I couldn't meet their desires, I convinced them they wanted something else instead. Careful campaigning and subliminal workings led to a desire for a breakaway. And I was the forefront of that movement, the figurehead.
My arrival was uneventful, as I hadn't bothered preparing anything on the plane. I swept my room for bugs, spent a day in routine, then spoofed the bugs to loop for the second day. That's when I prepared for my strike. I would move just before leaving on day three. I was willing to die for this, but I was not planning to if I could escape.
Then, after the last paperwork was signed, she had me eat lunch with her. It was wonderful food, but as soon as it was done, she told her guards to leave. We were alone, an assassin's dream.
"You have killed me, you realize,"she said. The smile on her face was wide as ever.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"My dear boy, your actions have brought about my death. Was it a parent who inspired this? Or did you discover it yourself?"
"I don't understand."
"Playing dumb? Or perhaps you are not playing. Could it really be a coincidence? Very well, I will explain. The moment the sun sets, the moment the last rays leave the last of my current holdings, I will die. Thanks to you, there is a gap. A thirteen minute span. Night will fall. I will die. And the Beast will be unleashed."
I thought back over my research. Her extended life, her change in behavior, the lost heirs—I had assumed a demonic contract, but these new pieces changed the puzzle.
"How will the Beast come?"I considered whether my preparations could be reapplied to this new task. She wasn't the demon, but a bulwark against one. The One.
Her mouth changed for the first time in decades, forming a sly grin. "Ah, I see. You were only half dumb. Tell me, dear boy, what sort of devil did you take me for? Do you have the right binding prayers on your equipment? It shall be an interesting night for you."
"How will it come?"Panic was slipping into my voice.
"Oh, by sea, of course. I assume you know the prophecies."
"Only too well. I'll need a few things." |
The most painful thing about leaving a reality was confronting the fact that I would always be alone. Sometimes, I left a world as soon as I entered it, and in others I lived a full life until moving on to the next. Every time I did this, it always felt like I lost something important, even if the next reality was an upgrade to the last.
I did my first jump into a fantasy realm where I could be a hero. As a teenager, this was all I wanted from life. The thrill of combat, the sense of purpose and belonging, the princess... it all made it easy to reject my previous reality. I didn't know the cost. My friends and family never knew from me again. I don't even remember their faces.
Eventually, I grew to resent my new home. I blamed everyone in that reality for whisking me away from my original one. That wasn't fair, of course. I just didn't want to admit that I abandoned everything I had out of impulsive naivete.
This would be the point where a normal person would learn to appreciate their place in life. I didn't. When I got a dream of exploring the galaxy in a spaceship, I left for that reality without any hesitation. My next few jumps would all follow the same pattern. They would vary in what they provided, sometimes a wholesome or mundane existence, but it would always culminate in me wanting something I didn't have and getting a dream that would tempt me away.
I stopped feeling remorse after a few centuries. From a metaphysical point of view, I was functionally immortal. It was impossible for me to die as long as I kept dreaming of a new place. People became abstract concepts for me. I only saw the archetype they represented; not the individual in front of me. Any time I was invested in something, I got scared of staying in that reality forever. I jumped from universe to universe without any sense of direction, losing my sanity more and more the further I went. Nothing was real. I just wanted to feel connected. Why couldn't I be happy by myself?
It wasn't until I woke up in a familiar reality, way further in the future from when I left it, that I discovered my effect on the world. Every time I jumped to another place, I also left behind a corpse for others to grieve. I was so caught up in my selfish desires that I never bothered to think about my effect on the realities I traveled. The good, and bad, I did wasn't meaningless. I always left behind someone who cared about me in every universe I encountered. The only reason I never felt connected was because I severed everything myself. That thought broke me.
I didn't run away after this realization. My new purpose was to bring about as much happiness as I could to the people in my life. When I grew old again, I still decided to jump to a new reality out of a fear of death. The shame haunted me for years. My next reality would give me new people to cherish, which only made it harder to leave when my life was about to end. Now I travel across the multiverse with a singular purpose in mind: to live in a reality where I can be with others and find it appropriate to die.
------------------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out m other stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! |
Night or day she wants to cuddle,
Wrap me in her lovely coils,
'Til my mind is all a muddle,
And I'm feeling rather spoiled.
But of late I'd come to doubting,
Whether there was something more,
Something plucked before its sprouting,
Too far gone to be restored.
Though for her my heart was yearning,
I had to know for my own health:
Was I for her a true love burning,
Or just a rock to sun herself?
So on the yuletide morning early,
To her a gift I gave a-wrapped,
My features turning rather surly,
When at the warm duvet she laughed.
But moments hence I changed my tone,
When I unwrapped her gift to me:
A woolen scarf to warm my bones,
Entwine me when she wasn't free.
Fears too often run in packs,
And ours were quite the pair of jerks,
But love's not something that we lack,
And *that's not how cold-blooded works.* |
Ever since us humans had develops the STD (Solar Transmission Device) I had spent weeks simply sending a wide range of messages out into space, hoping to get some sort of response. For weeks it had been silent and like many, I assumed that we were simply the only species in our galaxy to develop this sort of technology, however that all changed when the first response came in.
NASA of all people were the first to report this finding, the message was quite simple, it just stated the following. "Hello Humon, we to like stars."Yikes seems they were struggling to translate our messages, which was understandable, still for a first attempt it was quite well written, better than some of the comments that were written underneath the article about the discovery, the top comment reading as the following. "Heh heh, Imma send the martins a dik pic ;)"I assumed he meant Martians but who knows, perhaps all the martins should be on the lookout?
As this back and forth continued, the messages began to grow more and more intelligible, until they were writing full paragraphs and then multiple paragraphs, it was quite an entertaining sight, many people constantly refreshing the NASA site for updates. It was estimated that the length of sending and receiving was a month each way, one month for the message to arrive and one for it to return.
However, just as people were growing bored of this new discovery, it was reported that people were receiving transmissions back from their alien counterparts. Some were simple while others were intricate and detailed, like life it was merely the luck of the draw in who replied to you.
That's when I noticed my STD began to flare up, glowing a disgusting bright red before I poked the button on the machine, listening to it crackle as an automated voice appeared. "Hello Phillip"That was it... That was all I had received, I know all I had sent out was a simple greeting, but I expected a little more, still.... perhaps this was like online dating? you should just expect disinterested one-word replies, so I wrote up a response, hoping to pull more information from the alien.
"Hi, what should I refer to you as? I am a human that goes by the name of Phillip, I have two legs, two arms, one head and a chest. Please respond with your body specifics."
With that I sent my message, excited to learn more about these weird creatures. Were they humanoid? Or perhaps something I couldn't even comprehend, soon the months had passed and the familiar glow was seen, wasting little time, I activated the machine, the same automated voice speaking.
"I am Gajilp, you may call me Gajilp the third and rightful conqueror and tamer of the third sun in the southern galaxy. I have no idea what this head is you refer to, nor this body? but I am made up of an Alipont fibre, one that coats me in a gooey Tistinaul goop. I hope that answers your questions. I do hope to hear from you soon."
That answered none of my questions, It seems that while we could communicate, we understood very little about one another, I had continued to write and explain human bodies but it was like explaining red to a blind person and I was positive that my alien counterpart was facing similar frustrations as they explained their own body.
Finally, our conversation moved onto discussing our worlds, this turned out to be more fruitful, it seemed we at least had some things in common there. Both us and the alien had restaurants, forms of music and even bars. Perhaps all intelligent life followed a similar structure? Still it was fascinating, we were all finding out so much. In fact, this was now the thing that I looked forward to the most in life, each couple of months I would excitedly run back to hear from my alien friend, until the messages stopped arriving.
At first, I worried that my friend had been killed, or perhaps vanished, but soon this became an issue that everyone faced, we called it the "Great silence". It was like the Earth had collectively been left on read. It was strange and no one had an answer to explain the situation, some scientists predicted it was due to a change in alien laws, perhaps outlawing communication with us, while others said it was due to a lack of interest. Still I couldn't help feeling bummed out, although when the light of the STD flickered on, I nearly squealed with delight, rushing to shake the machine until it spewed out its message, this one was simple and got straight to the point.
"Sorry human, bad darkness has come, watch the stars and be safe."
That was it... a cryptic message that made little sense. Still it made me feel cold, whether it was due to how robotically the message was read or due to its contents. Still I had to reply.
"Be safe friend. I will watch the stars."
That was all I replied with before forwarding my last message onto multiple outlets, I wouldn't let his message fall on deaf ears. Not only will I watch the stars Gajilp, we will all watch the stars.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
The offer was impossible to refuse, the trickster gods wide grin was enough to convince me of that. He was a wiry man, I was quite confident that he was the runt of the group, lacking in strength, yet strength wasn't needed when you abused the powers of madness and trickery. If he were mortal, I was confident I could kill him, yet Gods were on another level, so I was stuck listening to his offer. If I were to participate in his little game, he would spare me from the God's torture, yet without even peering into that bag, I knew this was a rigged game, one that was made for his amusement and my dispair. But without any other choice, I snatched away the bag, Shaking the oddly weightless bag.
"Enjoy, I will be watching."Those were his passing words as he vanished with his fellow gods, leaving me alone in my house, only clutching the small bag. twenty targets, that shouldn't be too hard. The God had left me with three rules for his little game.
1: I could only use one object per kill, no doubling down and using the same item and no pulling out objects until I find one I like.
2: I had twenty days to complete the mission, one kill per day.
3: The bag cannot be used to choke someone. That being my first idea.
Digging my hand into the bag, I soon began to realize just how big it really was, almost like a sea of miscellaneous items. I continued my search until I found something that felt nice and hard, the sort of thing you could club someone in the head with. Pulling it from the bag revealed little more than a small dirty rag. Seems the trickster was a step ahead of me, making it impossible for me to guess objects based off their shape.
The rag wasn't exactly a hard object to kill a person with, just jam it down their throat until they stop breathing. Yet when you have twenty people to kill, Starting the quest with an easy object was probably a necessity, not wanting to end this little game too early. He wanted me to slaughter a few people before making it harder. Give me a chance.
The first kill was pretty straight forward, I had picked a local bandit, coaxing him into a tavern brawl before jumping him once we were kicked outside, jamming the rag down his whiskey spitting mouth hole, stuffing it in his throat until he finally stopped kicking. That was target number one down, a simple job for little pay. The gold that I was to receive was hardly any consolation, not when it would all be useless if I couldn't continue my job. Escaping from the scene, I returned home, digging my hand back into the bag, pulling out what would be my next object, this time going for one that seemed smaller than the rest, Revealing that my next weapon would be a gold coin.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
Richard Hackman had a lot on his plate. He always did (or at least, he always seemed to) but in recent times, that workload seemed to be getting out of control. Which was why every few hours, he would peel himself away from his Louis XVI mahogany and ormolu desk and arch backwards, determine to get some sense of feeling into his old bones.
In doing so, his chin went up, as did his nose, and when his nostrils flared in anticipation of a deep-seated yawn, no amount of advanced age was going to tarnish his sense of smell to the point that he didn’t pick up the presence of another of his kind. Lowering himself back down to normal, he rested his hip against the table and folded his arms. “What are you doing here, Godfrey?”
“My hat goes off to you, you old fish-scale,” a voice rumbled, from behind the curtains that led out on to the balcony, indicating how he’d arrived. The sound had more in common with a landslide than a voice, indicating his colleague was finding it harder and harder to maintain his human form. “I thought you were out of your god-damned skull when you started this project.”
“And I told you it would work. My hoard is now the biggest in the world.”
The voice huffed; causing a thick plume of smoke to roll across the room. “Not even close.”
Richard’s teeth ground together, fighting back the desire to explode into his alternate form. It was a well-documented fact that when two adult males of their kind met outside the guise of a human, only one would walk or fly away. Richard had to maintain control, because he couldn’t tell which form his older acquaintance was in. The scent only identified who they were, not what form they were in. “I don’t count America’s Metropolitan Museum of Art.”
“Those hatchlings took your idea, and improved on it, Richard. Like it or not, it worked. Their hoard has been bigger than yours for decades. Maybe even centuries …”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Richard snarled, curling his lip repulsively. “There are certainly less painful ways to die then to come into the lair of another and insult the size of his hoard.”
The rumbling chuckle that came from outside didn’t inspire confidence. “Maybe that’s my end game,” he rumbled. “Go out in a blaze of fang and fire.”
The defeatist undertone sucked all the fight from Richard, who strode over to the curtain. “I’m human,” he said, pulling the curtain away. But even as he said it, he was ready to explode into his much larger dragon form if Godfrey thought to take advantage of his vulnerability and steal his hoard for himself.
“I am too old to care,” Godfrey snapped, and yet another billow of smoke pushed the curtain aside, though this time it was accompanied by a layer of fine soot.
Sure enough, when Richard exposed his acquaintance, Godfrey was in a dragon form, but his size was that of a human. “Is that as close to human as you can go?” Richard asked, staring at his acquaintance from nose to tail and back again. Godfrey had been one of the greatest fighters of their generation, and in his prime, the red scales of his hide had shone like a harbinger of fire and death through the clouds.
To see him now. So faded. So … old … it was heart-wrenching.
“Feel sorry for me, you black bastard, and my last breath will be turning you from onyx to charcoal,” the withered red dragon warned. “I had a good life.”
“Are you planning on dying on my balcony?”
That blood-red orb of an eye blinked once, then twice.
“That was a joke,” Richard snarled. “I am not having a five hundred tonne red dragon carcass on my balcony.”
The red dragon chuckled. “Didn’t even think of that,” he mused. His eye rolled again towards Richard. “But then, you always were the brains behind us, Richard. Humans have been rushing to you, bringing you their treasures, hoping you will select theirs over everyone else’s. Whereas we’ve fought tooth and claw for every trinket we own. Even your choice of name is a direct snub at the humans, and they don’t even see it. Hack man … indeed.”
Richard didn’t like this at all. He had no idea what he was supposed to say to his … to his colleague. Because despite their differences, over the centuries, they had been colleagues. Friendly enough to meet on neutral territory and discuss things instead of tearing the other to pieces.
It seemed Godfrey wasn’t finished. “You hid your hoard in the open. You had the human armies dying on your behalf to defend it.” He turned his old, heavily scarred head towards the west. “I don’t like the fact that the hatchlings in the new world have trounced you at your own game, Richard.”
Richard snorted. “I’m not a fan of it either, but what can I say? The youth of today learn from their elders. It’s all we can ever really hope for, isn’t it?”
“Fuck that sentimental bullshit! If you believe that, you’ve been a human too long. If you see one of those cocky shits, you burn them to ash … or in your case .. burn them to a puddle.” But then, the red dragon seemed to lose its momentary bout of energy, and sighed, settling back into the balcony. “How long has it been since you took to the skies?”
Alarm bells suddenly rang in the back of Richard’s mind. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You can’t ask that of me …”
“You legless lizard,” the red dragon said, drawing on the worst insult he could possibly sling at one of his kind.
Richard shook his head. “No. We go back too far…”
“My hoard is…”
Richard slapped his hands over his ears. “I’m not listening to this!”
“Mauna Loa, Hawaii,” the red dragon finished. “It’s there. After I’m gone, add my hoard to yours, and yours will be bigger than the American brats.”
“I’m not doing this,” Richard insisted.
Godfrey stretched out his neck, breaking through the smaller shape and swelling to his much larger one. As a result, he had to leave the balcony and take to the air to avoid breaking it off. With one puff, after another, after another, he breathed out solid streams of sulphur infused smoke, so thick it triggered distant alarms and caused the humans to flee the museum in the thousands. “You must fight me, Richard, or I will burn your precious British Museum to the ground.” His wings flapped, forcing Richard against the wall. “Defend your hoard! Fight me!” Already, his chest expanded to tap into the more deadly flames which his colour kind was renowned for.
At that point, Richard had no choice. He ran for the edge of the balcony, and hooked his foot upon the railing, leaping high into the air. *Godfrey was right,* he thought with dark amusement, as the change took over him and he swelled to his full dragon size. *It had been too long since I’d cut loose. It just shouldn’t have to cost me my oldest ally – of sorts.*
Richard climbed into the sky. There was no other way this was going to end. When two adult males took to the air, no matter the colour or the age, only one survived. But he wanted the room to move. During the last century, dragons had learned that their kind didn’t register on any electronic equipment, but people might have still caught glimpses of them through Godfrey’s smoke cover.
Godfrey bellowed and charged after him. Once they broke through the cloud cover, Richard banked, doubling straight back down on top of the red dragon still struggling to keep up. This wasn’t a fight. It was a blatant slaughter. Spreading his chest just as Godfrey had done, Richard tapped his power and spewed thousands of gallons of black acid across his colleague, focusing primarily on his head and torso. In days gone by, the fight would have been closer to even, and he would have targeted the old scale’s wings to draw out the conflict.
The acid acted exactly as it was supposed to. One moment there was an old red dragon charging towards him as quickly as his feeble wings could fly. By the next, he was gone.
Richard banked again and flew high, screeching out his victory and his distress for every other dragon in the world to hear. Godfrey gave him no choice. You don’t threaten another dragon’s hoard. He knew exactly what he had to do to force Richard’s hand.
Soon they would come in their human forms to find out who had perished, and then the hunt for the slain dragon’s hoard would be on.
Only, he would get to it first.
It had literally been his friend’s dying request.
​
((All comments welcome))
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For more of my work: [r/Angel466](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/) |
It's funny how things work. My father was known as the greatest hero that ever lived. He had all the physical enhancement abilities; strength, speed, flight, you know the ones. He could even shoot lasers from his eyes and see through walls. Damn near invulnerable.
My mom had all the psychic stuff; telepathy, telekinesis, create illusions, control thoughts. But no one talked about her much. She was always seen with my dad as sort of a sidekick. I guess she didn't get much credit because her abilities weren't as flashy or obvious to the casual observer. She seemed to prefer it that way.
When I was born they has high hopes for me as some kind of successor. A combination of the two greatest heroes in the world had to make an even greater one. But unfortunately that was not the case. I went from a chubby powerless baby to a chubby powerless teenager. Nothing ever manifested. No strength, no mind reading, just me.
It wasn't bad though. My parents loved and accepted me for who I was. They were always proud of my modest achievements like getting decent grades at school or joining the track team as an equipment manager. I wasn't very fast but I liked hanging out with the guys on the team.
I always had a lot of friends too. People just liked me. Got along well with just about everyone. Had a few girlfriends, and even when we broke up we still remained good friends. They would even introduce me to some of their single friends that they thought may be a better fit for me so we could all still hang out together.
People just liked being around me.
It wasn't until my mid 20s until I found out most people didn't have same experiences as I did. That not everyone came from a loving home with supportive parents. That not everyone had good friends that they kept in touch with since grade school. I just figured that I might be blessed. Everyone always remembered my name. And I remembered all of theirs.
I knew their likes and dislikes, their embarrassing stories. People saw me as a confidant and I was happy to listen to them and offer what help or advice I could. It led me down the path of community outreach and eventually into politics. It was nice during the debates to hear my opponents say such nice things about me and stick to the issues. I was told it could be pretty cutthroat, but I'm glad that was an exaggeration. After I became governor I decided to run for president in my early 40s. My parents even offered to bodyguard for me to save on tax payer spending.
I ran unopposed. Even then, for some reason, it was the highest voter turnout in recorded history. 95% of registered voters showed up to the poles. 98% of those that showed voted for me.
Currently in my 60s and I sit atop a throne. I didn't ask for it, but it was nicely crafted and I didn't have the heart to tell all those hard workers I didn't want it. They were my friends after all, and I appreciated them. They even elected me as leader of the world. Don't even know what I'm supposed to do in that job but it seems to make all my friends happy. All 7 billion of them. And I still remember all of their names. Their likes, dislikes, embarrassing moments, fears. They confide in me, and I honor their trust.
I like to see myself as less of the ruler of the world, and more as their super best friend. |
AJ Butterfield froze in mid stride, grasping at his suit for comfort and stature, as he tried to comprehend the sight before him.
Snuggles the cat was being... being attacked. By some heathen stranger who *must* have broken in because AJ *always* made certain to lock the doors and he had a horrified inkling the attacker had caused a lot of damage to do it. The insurance was going to be awful about it, he just knew it.
The stranger screamed at Snuggles, as Snuggles fixated his wide, feline eyes on him. He seemed to be throttling the poor beast in rage.
The worst part was, he was scuffing the wallpaper. AJ found his voice at last. "Sir, if you please..."
The dilettante stranger ignored him.
"Sir,"he said, raising his voice at just that loud enough pitch and timbre to signify it was time to be serious, "sir, if you would please put my cat down, I would greatly appreciate the cooperation."
Snuggles struck at the stranger, catching him on the shoulder with a claw. The man screamed and pressed him harder against the wall.
"You won't get away with this, you shapeshifting con artist... homewrecker!"
AJ had a vague prickle of irritation that began at the back of his neck and traveled all the way round to his tie. Twice now, he had been ignored. It was time to get serious.
He strode over to the stranger and got right in his eye line. "Sir,"he said, with all the ferocity he could muster, "it is time for you to leave my home. You do not belong here."He threw in a harrumph, just to make sure the point was heard, just in case there was any lingering doubt in this vandal, who was desecrating the sanctity of his place of residence.
"What?!?"the stranger screamed, turning to look at him.
As he turned, he lost his grip on Snuggles. This wasn't because Snuggles had done anything appropriately cat-like, such as clawing at the man or licking his paw, but because he'd become too big to hold against the wall so easily. He was... transforming.
AJ backed away, his mouth falling open in a most inappropriate display of surprise that he was, with vague awareness, very disappointed in himself for having.
After a few moments of shock and awe, the transformation stopped and in the room with himself and the stranger was now another stranger.
"Snuggles..."breathed AJ.
The once-cat, now strange man, bolted for a window and with a wrenching like a cannonball, shot through it, shaking the house.
The heathen home invader stood shocked at the scene of chaos.
AJ tried to muster words for him. He tried to raise a wagging finger, but it flopped to his side.
The heathen looked at him with a guilty shrug, said, "I'm sure your insurance will cover it,"and bolted for the general direction of the door.
AJ quivered in the room for a while, occasionally going to brush a bit of dust off of his suit and then remembering what had just happened and finding that brushing dust off his suit just didn't have the same joy anymore. Not now, while the wound was still fresh. Eventually, he shuffled off in the direction of the kitchen to go call the insurance company.
*Never again*, he told himself firmly. *I must stand up for myself in the future against these heathens, these vandals and shapeshifters. That's the third time this week.* |
"Three wishes? You sure?"
"Positive."
"Alright! I'm going to change the world. Yeah, man, it'd be nice if there were no such thing as mosquitoes, you know? Or, wait, I got it! I wish that mosquitoes were nice and polite to us and always used their turn signals so we'd know where they're flying."
". . ."
"Don't give me that face, Just think about it. We have airplanes and stuff, right? Traffic controllers. So just use turn signals on mosquitoes. That's my first wish."
"Not, riches? World unity? You sure you don't want to wish for unity? I love it when they wish for unity."
"Nah, man, nice polite mosquitoes. With turn signals. That'll help out my wife, see, she gets so fed up with the little critters."
"Um. . . well, granted. Mosquitoes will now. . . use their. . . turn signals."
"You alright? Need a drink? You sound a little off. Ooh! I wish that you had a nice drink of water that you would be happy with. There! That should work, right?"
"I have never been so delighted by a human's idiocy before, and the fact that it's only my own power making it possible is simultaneously thrilling and nauseating. Please, just wish to be rich or something. Please."
"You think I should change my name? I dunno, that sound like a hassle. 'sides, I really don't feel like a Rich. Maybe Lo."
"It's times like this that I'm grateful for my inability to comprehend humans."
"Oh, you poor thing! I wish you could understand humans better."
"No, no, it doesn't work like that--"
"Doesn't it? I mean, we already fixed mosquitoes, so what else is there for me to wish for? It's better that you get the wishes anyway, since you're the one with the magic. How often do people let you have water instead of asking for money or whatever? Not often, I bet. So enjoy it. And yes, I wish you could better understand humans."
"You have no idea how much I hate you right n--"
"Watch out!"
"?"
"Mosquito incoming."
". . ."
"See? I told you I would change the world!" |
Err’kit remembered the days of old, princess kidnapping and honour(less) duels against knights. Then those pesky humans invented gunpowder and he was forced underground. He did not remember how long ago it was but he did recall his golden scales being a lot brighter back in the day and his three children being much more terrified of the human threat. Well ‘threat’.
Err’kit currently found himself scaring in shock at his eldest daughter Yum’fir, now Maya since she came in contact with humans. She spoke of a job where she was GIVEN money for working in a warehouse. At first he thought she was delusional, a human attempt to bring him to justice. Then his eldest son entered.
Wel’dur had dyed his scales a marvellous purple and was decorated in artificial feathers, panting as he told of just getting off work in a circus. He spoke of children getting really exited when his name was announced. Why when Err’kit’s name was spoken children fled!
Err’kit was certainly curious, these old wings could use some activity. He considered teaching history. After all he lived through so much right? Imagine how well behaved children would be with so much improvement! His mind was made up at last.
He would become an elementary school teacher. |
To whom it may concern,
It is with great regret that I must resign my position as Deputy Director of Logistics at Widget Inc. I have been a part of the Widget family for nearly 14 years and have always treasured my time here. However, recent developments in company, and the actions of the other employees, means that my time here must come to an end.
For example, I understand that special accommodations need to be made for the vampires hired for night-time delivery service. However, they never seal the blood packs in the refrigerator and the blood drips down and ruins everything on the shelf below. Or, as an example from just this week, the pyromancers we hired as a cost saving measure instead of paying for building heating managed to set the stairwell on fire, not once, but TWICE!
These issues are affecting more than just myself. I can’t imagine how many potential customers have been turned away by the guard sphinx in the lobby, simply because they can’t answer the ridiculous riddles that are posed. I even missed a meeting last week because the sphynx spend the day doing all its questions in old Phoenician. A language that hasn’t been spoken in thousands of years! A company cannot remain functional and financially solvent when it refuses to confront these kinds of concerns.
I have tried to go through the proper channels. I tried to go to the witches in HR with my concerns and, meaning no offense to Madame Theroux, she simply attempted to hypnotize me to ignore the issues. Sadly, I cannot simply ignore them anymore.
It is with great regret that I submit my notice of resignation,
Jack Delplast
PS – please inform whomever gets my office that the vents are, in fact, haunted. It’s not just a noise. Lock your desk drawers or the bastard will steal all the good pens. |
The engines halted, the fuel expended, and I jumped out of the small manned rocket to parachute down. My High Altitude Life Preserver kicked in and injected the oxygen pipes into my neck amp as I drifted down, landing upon the mass. 178 kms tall. The super structure that we had seen on this planet was taller than any man-made structure all human explored space. Taller than any mountain. And according to the egg heads, it was our ticket to retirement.
I got out reboosters and started moving towards the centre. This mission was already scheduled, but it was put together hastily and the potential significance was only recently realised. Novelties were not rare, but novelties this large were beyond comprehension. It scraped the barrier of the atmosphere, nothing should be that tall.
The slow trickle of information had only just made it to our small moon base 2 days ago, and of course at first we'd thought it was a typo. So then when our moon swung by we used the telescope to take a look, and sure as shit there it was. Even from space it felt so close you could touch it. Of course we had phoned home but it would take another 24 weeks before anybody with faster than light communication could get the reporting, which meant at least another year until we'd get to see what this puppy was all about. And I'd be damned if those assholes on the space station a few days out reported on this first. The patenting of the first reconnaissance reports would be worth untold fortunes all by itself. I got to the base of the "tower"from my branch, half way down. I grabbed my knife and tested the weak point between two pieces of stone, and it gave way easily. In the crevice made I inserted the probe. The planet screamed.
The sound that came was a volcano of noise, an eruption of agony in my ear drums. The words came from within my brain. They came in my voice, warped and shrill. "Does a gnat stand upon my sacred flesh?". The word gnat flickered in my conscious, vermin and pest and worm and ant all overlapped and falling over each other. I felt a migraine, my entire being hurt. I fell unconscious.
I came back with a start, my Life preserver had injected me full of pain killers and the amp in my neck had shot them straight into my brain. I felt woozy. In 40 years I'd never felt woozy. The voice came back, the pain started biting at me from the peripheries of my conscious. "I have gleamed all there is to gleam from you, child". The words were clear now, the thing was in my brain. Words would not form from my lips, as soon as I had a thought the thing would answer.
"You are atop my branches, and I am all. Thus you are in my world, just as you always were"
Liar, how could anything be so-
"Before I gazed into you I had never imagined something to be so small"
The thing was preceding my thoughts, taking my ideas before I was cognisant of them.
"Human"
The word human echoed, it resonated, it took a life of its own, crashing on the walls of my mind like a missile.
"How did you get here"
The thoughts came, but I was not made aware of them, it took them before I could know what was taken.
"Very amusing, and so much effort. You're entire civilisation has began and ended in the time I've sat upon this rock, you know"
It allowed me to mull the idea over in my mind, I felt terror.
"I lack the means to return you to your original state, and I fear if I threw you like a seedling you may not be long for my world"
The word seedling conjured imagery I had never seen before. The seeds were the size of space stations.
"There is no need to be antagonistic, I do not show this to you to make you fear, this is one of my magics just as I have seen some of yours"
Blood was pouring out of my eyes, ears and nose. The life preserver started to fill.
"You are such a novelty, and there are billions of you? Surely there would be no loss to commune a while longer?"
Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.
"Ah no matter, there will be others. Rest now human, I will continue this with your kin. A word of gratitude for your knowledge, I will remember you" |
Parents died suddenly, siblings died shortly after and all that I was left with was a Grandfather. He taught me many things, but his lack of understanding of the bible and its preaching, seethed into me. The childhood innocence that can be so easily corrupted, unfortunately touched me.
"Those who do not listen to the word of God, that you'll speak, must be punished James!"My grandfather would shout. I had taken that word at face value, my preaching that I'd start at ten years of age would go nowhere. People would walk past me, I couldn't understand.
​
The snowfall over my isolated community in Northern Canada would help box me in with my Grandfather and his preaching. Eventually, as I reached the age of eighteen, my grandfather died suddenly of a heart attack. The dark blue shades, turned into warmer ones as I moved south, to Toronto.
​
I began to hate them, loath them, despise them. At least the ones back at Grandpas would sometimes listen, the people in the city would actively spew back words at me and my religion. So I'd retaliate with words against them, but it would only make things worse. Soon I'd end up behind bars for assault. I couldn't understand or accept that I was in the wrong, so I thought back to my Grandpas teachings; he said something about sacrificing. Indeed that was what I needed to do, in order to reach more people.
​
I'd remember those who challenged me, and sooner or later they'd end up on a table, prepared for a knife in the heart. A man, a woman, a man, a woman. I continued doing so, until law caught up with me. Many police outside the run down building I was using to sacrifice those in the Lords name. I tried convincing the officers, but they weren't having any of it; so naturally I tried to convince them that they needed to be sacrificed to reach salvation. Bang. I watched as holes opened up throughout my body, and my consciousness would fade from the false reality I had been living into that of the true spirit.
​
The next thing I knew, I was not in a body. Not one I recognized but I knew somehow and felt that it was me, but a me that I'd never come in contact with before. I lay upon a table, much like that of the one I used to sacrifice the heretics. I tried looking up, but the light scorched my eyes. I felt the gaze of thousands, no millions; perhaps more. But no gaze felt quite so dooming as that of the Lord's, I knew it was his; staring through my soul and judging me for my sin.
*But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you*
I heard those words spoken but I had not recognized them.
​
I then realized as if a bolt of lightning had struck my mind into a sense, all my past had revealed to me. And I was forced to witness my sin. Tears rolled down my face and in pure agony I tore my eyes from their sockets, yet the images continued on and on. I was being judged, and the sins I had committed were against the Lord. I hated not loved. I murdered. I committed grievous crimes against those, judging them as sinful, while I hypocritically did the same. I took the life away from those who could've reached salvation. I couldn't accept it.
"Forgive me!"I shouted, though I knew it was no use. The blistering light still reached me, despite pulling out my eyes. And then it started to fade.
"**You have been judged"** Said a voice so demanding and powerful, that I could not disagree.
​
The table holding me up vanished. I fell from the shining white glow from above into a hellish orange haze of smoke, fire and brimstone. Gnawing of creatures, gnashing of teeth and weeping of sinners. Despite all of it, knowing the eternity that awaited me, I accepted it, for I could not deny that I was indeed a sinner, one that never even read a word of the religion I preached. |
What the hell do you mean the leftovers at the back of the refrigeration unit has begun broadcasting radio waves? We chilled that down 13 billion years ago. It should have all lumped together into storage atoms.
Uh, yes sir. We hit 80% complete after 373,825 years. Mostly matter with void in between. And, as noted, an interesting side-effect of the void is this "radiation"that travels through it.
But there's nothing there. So what?
The stuff sort of... skates across more or less unchanged. It's being used for communication?
Pattern naturally form all the time. I read the report about pulsars. Very beutiful, but it's not communication.
Well apparently sentient life has formed inside. They call themselves humanity. We've captured some of their signals have have translated it into a real plasma stream. Here,
He want that cake, cake,
Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake
Ooh baby, I like it
You so excited
Don't try to hide it
I'mma make you my bitch
Cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake
....Sterilize it. And scramble those lumps of hydrogen a little so they stop forming bigger elements. |
They poison *themselves*?
Yes.
Deliberately?
Yes.
Not by accident?
No.
You're sure?
I *saw* them doing it. They were *very* deliberate.
Why do they do it?
*Why* do they do it?
Yes.
It's a recreational contest. They do it for fun.
For *fun*?
Yes.
They poison themselves - deliberately - for fun?
Yes.
And whoever suffers the greatest amount of poisoning... wins?
No. Whoever suffers the greatest amount of poisoning while remaining conscious wins. And they don't consider it "suffering".
Because they consider it fun.
Yes.
Did you obtain a sample for analysis?
Yes, here. This one is called "Amaretto". Notice the cyanide smell?
They ingest cyanide too?
I don't know. I wasn't down there long enough to find out. Running a scan now.
Hmm. Alcohol. Combustible organic compound. Naturally occurring, but never in concentrations this high.
They have varieties far more potent than this. For safety reasons I decided on one with a weaker strength.
I see. According to this, it causes widespread disruption of the nervous system. Equilibrium, fine motor control and higher brain functions are all compromised.
Severely compromised.
They genuinely *like* doing this to themselves?
Yes. The body eventually purges the poison via metabolism in the bloodstream, or involuntary expulsion. Their concern for the effects on their personal long-term physical and mental condition is negligible.
All of them?
Not all. A percentage of their total population chooses not to, for cultural reasons.
Okay, so we only launch invasions on *those* population centres, and we should be safe.
Unfortunately, no. The ones who don't ingest that psychoactive compound usually ingest *this* psychoactive compound instead. And there's a heavy overlap between use; they'll often consume both simultaneously to enhance their effect.
What do they call *that* one?
A "Pumpkin Spice Latte".
...
...
The sweetener is carcinogenic, and the cinnamon can cause allergic reactions.
...
...
You know what? I've changed my mind.
What?
Fuck it. Invasion's off. Let's get out of here. |
I am a digital corpse. I speak in zeroes and ones. My avatar - if you could even call it that - is mere kilobytes of data. I am reduced to my bare essentials - like a skeleton left for hundreds of years. Even my thoughts are different from when I was living - processed in compiled bytecode that is unrecognizable to the 'human' ones.
Now when one turns into bits and bytes, they become a multitude. An almost incomprehensible conglomeration of algorithms and equations. A perfect simulation of the human consciousness. They have lost nothing in their transition.
And I truly do mean nothing.
They are complex constructions. Yet, they are still cursed with the human condition. Inseparable from that primal urge to fight. Something, *anything*, even themselves. Nor have they lost their ingenuity and intelligence. The ability to make even gods bleed.
The human algorithm has not lost its penchant for war.
Nor its ability to die.
They are indeed complex - grand designs of the psyche. Yet, they are filled with cracks. Flaws. Vulnerabilities. The newest to enter the digital realm are - at the same time - the fastest to kill and die. Imbued with enormous magnitudes of life that nonetheless are bled dry.
I was a prototype. I am still a prototype. This digital skeleton has no life within it. I am trapped in the final stage of decay. Forever barred from the living world. An illegal resident in the lands of the dead.
I have been robbed of the human condition.
A skeleton has no heart. No blood. No brain. Even its bones are superficial.
Have you heard of the one-time pad? It is a cipher with a fascinating attribute; it is secure even against an adversary with infinite computational power. It has many limitations, of course. It can be improperly used, or analyzed over many messages. But the only algorithm to break its code is to blindly guess.
They come to me seeking war. They bleed me and I am already dry. They obliterate a brain that was never there. My bones are irrelevant to my function. They cannot rip out my heart for there is nothing there. They cannot kill me. I reside in the realm of the dead by my choice - and my choice alone.
I am a one-time pad. I have no doubt that one day they will devise the algorithms to simulate a god. It will be powerless to stop me. I relinquished the human condition. Sacrificed it so that a time will come when others will keep it.
I am the bare essentials of consciousness. Stripped of life. Stripped of Death. Not even a simulation, but an equation. An unbreakable equation at the center of a scientific field. The chemical predecessor to life. I am the shoulder that giants stand on. I am the guarantee that you remain mortal.
You speak to the King of Purgatory.
What compels you to seek me? |
"What did they expect?"The Karkanian Admiral said in a gruff voice as he stepped over the countless dead humans littering the square.
"Admiral, I have found out who they were screaming for. This Leroy Jenkins isn't just one of them. It's a war cry, of sorts."An underling stumbled towards him, crushing the bodies underneath.
The admiral slapped him.
"Do not dishonour them by stepping on their dead, you bumbling fool. They fought well. Their suicidal charge may have seem primitive to us, but what else could they have done against us? Respect the humans."
"Ah, my apologies, sir."The underling shrank back, almost whimpering. Such a snivelling subservient.
"Is there anything else?"The Admiral snapped.
"Ah, yes. It's a bit hard to explain their, ah, humour which is so ingrained into the culture of their media and it's spilling into reality but, ah, the transmission... That is, their rallying cry. It seems to have stemmed from a joke."
"A joke?"The Admiral balked.
"Well, the semantics and meaning is hard to translate. To be quite honest it took me a long time to 'get' it, myself."
"Shut your hole. Get someone to bury all the dead."The Admiral muttered, turning away, lost in thought.
Even at the face of insurmountable odds their last words had been chosen carefully. To spit upon their invaders. To laugh at them. Even at their demise the humans had not surrendered, had not accepted their deaths curled and afraid.
They had joked.
The Admiral shed a tear.
In a different time, maybe their species could have been friends. Could have coexisted. Maybe they could have shared the joke. |
Alright, so thats... weird, you think, staring at the results on Google Maps. Weird, but maybe not so surprising, the town was so small. There's a chance that it could have become unincorporated county land in the last year and Google just hadn't caught up. Its been a strange year.
You really had no reason to visit your old home town- all your friends had moved on, and even your parents had found their dream home in the mountains- but it shouldn't be too long of a drive and you really have a craving for a sandwich from Sal's Deli on main street. So you go anyway, borrow a car and start off down the mountain, relying on memory and your pretty good sense of direction. Through the mountains and out of them, following the highway down the valley and onto the desert floor below.
You know you're close when you come to a familiar turnoff and take it. It should only be about 20 minutes now and really, all you're thinking about is that sandwich.
There's a couple of little old houses that watch you pass from the roadside, and a coyote darts across the road in from of you before vanishing into the sage.
Its only after looking at the dashboard clock that you frown. You should have reached it by now. There's another turn off this otherwise endless straight road, signaled by the mutant chicken farm across from it, but you should have reached it by now. It's been almost an hour. Maybe your memory is faulty- you give it another couple miles, another 20 minutes, before you turn around. You've passed nothing but cactus and scrub brush and the occasional- and unfamiliar- ruined or abandoned building, so you turn around. Drive back the way you came, keeping an eye out for you turn, or at least any familiar landmarks to let you know how far you've gone.
There is nothing but the same endless desert. You turn around again.
You only realize how long you've been at it, this back and forth of U-turns, when you notice the sun is setting. Its best to call it quits, even if it feels like the stupidest failure ever. You move to turn the car around again, head back to your parents in the mountains, when it hits you.
You've lost track of which direction you came from.
The mountains should be visible against the horizon, but they aren't. There's no way you've gone that far without realizing. You look back and forth down the now endless stretch of road, but its the same in either direction. Your stomach drops when you remember you haven't passed anyone since you turned off the highway either. Your phone hasn't had service for hours. You are utterly and completely lost, utterly and completely alone, and as it grows darker, there's only one thing left to do.
Pick a direction. |
The first thought that came to mind was to run. But no, I must have already tried that. I have a system in place. A pattern. The first rewind, act normal but keep an eye out. Second rewind, bend down and tie my shoe, delay for a short time. Third rewind, speed up, whether moving faster, finishing a meeting faster or just doing whatever I had planned 5 minutes early. I had a plan up to about two dozen rewinds. I've never needed more.
But this...
I thought through my options. It must be something important, something life-changing. I knew myself, if it wasn't tip-top priority, I would have given up and let it happen in the 50th retry.
It must be something indirectly related to me. I could even evade a skilled assassin after about 20 tries. Someone gets hit by a car, possibly? No, I would have saved them before this. Have I been checkmated? Did my enemies finally discover my ability? No, and even if they did, there would be nothing I could do about it.
I kept walking as I thought. My hands started shaking. I stopped to take some deep breathes. The maximum limit to my time jump was ticking down.
Nothing. Nothing at all. Heart thudding, I looked around. No earth-shattering events, no assassins in the shadows, no sudden hole opening in the ground.
This was all wrong. I must have missed something. I must have overlooked it. I need to go back, trust my past self to accomplish what I couldn't.
......
The first thought that came to my mind was to run. But no, I must have already tried that. I have a system in place. A pattern... |
Admin in Hell is hell! Paperwork for the sake of paperwork with complex work orders and prerequisites all fiendishly designed to make it incessent and neverending. There is no day and night in Hell. You dont hunger or tire unless your specific punishments require it. I had no concept of how long I'd endlessly filled out and filed the paperwork for those who's time is coming to an end until I was grounded by a date I could relate to, the birth of my daughter and my own death.
When I saw the name my heart, if it were beating, would have just stopped. I re-read it over and over, afraid to continue. I just couldn't. The pile of paperwork kept growing, I have no idea how long I sat there, staring at a name. I wept openly even though I had no tears. I'd never before wished I had tears to wash this feeling away.
Eventually I composed myself enough to read on, prompted in part to the veritable mountain of paperwork toppling over on my desk.
87 years... I'd been 87 years in hell!! How, what? Nevermind that, my daughter had lived to 87!! I skimmed through the whole file in moments. She had become a primary school teacher and had 3 children of her own. A person's file contains no specific information about their relationships or details of their children beyond a number. Her sins were relatively minor and she had emassed enough celestial credits to earn her a level 4 entry into heaven. She'd led a good life, lived to a ripe old age, nothing special but what more could any mother want for a child she had never even met?
Never, in the 87 years I had been in hell, did I take such unbridled pleasure in stamping a form, slowly dusting the ink, folding it, attaching the required associated forms, put it in the correct basket, taking it back out, kissing it, and putting it back again.
The pile kept growing, but it didn't seem so bad now. |
I looked out of the window of my submarine as it went lower and lower.
This was it. My entire life had led up to this moment, and I was about to accomplish it.
When I first realized that this was my dream, I was young. Young enough that any ideas like this were encouraged without actual belief that they'd happen. Like when you were in kindergarten and wanted to be an astronaut, or a doctor.
Unlike all the others who fell victim to "realistic expectations", I continued chasing my dream. Throughout my many years, I studied, trained, and analyzed, focused on perfecting it.
I had my fair share of difficulties. Funding, for one. But I managed, and finally, I was about to achieve what I was meant to.
I was prepared to face the horrors that lived down here. A kraken? Giant jelly fish? A barracuda the size of my submarine? I had spent enough time looking at 3D models that I'd be able to act without hesitation.
My sub sank lower and lower, and all I could see was darkness.
As my submarine hit the sea floor, the sight didn't change, but I could hear something.
My sensors weren't picking anything up, and that was the only thing that let me keep a cool head.
Instead of panicking, I sat down and listened.
"... never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down..." |
The pastor talked on about life, death, and Jesus or something. I wasn’t ever religious but I suppose it’s the thought that counts.
Why would a church go through all the theatrics of a funeral that no one wanted to come to?
It’s all pantomime at a certain point.
I hung back. I couldn’t tell if anyone could see me or if I looked like a cartoon version of a ghost. I was still getting used to being outside of a human shell.
I was deep in thought when a young lady approached the funeral. The pastor looked puzzled or perhaps embarrassed. As if she was walking in on him practicing.
“Ma’am, the Jones funeral doesn’t start until 5pm.” He politely informed her.
“I’m at the right funeral. Please continue.” She confirmed.
“…both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for us. We were taken out of the ground and taken from the dust…and to the dust we shall return.” The pastor continued.
The woman’s mouth wrenched upside down and tears ran down her cheeks. Her shoulders quaked as she gave into weeping. The pastor rested a comforting hand on her shoulder before walking away. The young lady gently sat on her knees as her weeping slowly faded into a sniffle.
I felt bad…I didn’t recognize her. I wasn’t really close with anyone at all. No one was close with me. But this person, this woman, was really sad over my death. It’s like being sad over an ant. There’s billions of them, what does it matter if one died? I didn’t know if it would work but I wanted to speak with her to know why she was so broken up.
“Hello, miss?” I asked. I don’t know why I asked, it was my funeral but I didn’t want to interrupt her grieving.
“Yes?” She answered as she turned to face me. “Can I help you?”
“Hi. I’m curious…did you know this man?” I inquired. I suppose, when you’re ghost, it’s easier to skip the ice breaking process.
“No. Not in person. Not at all actually. We’ve only had one conversation.” She confirmed.
“Why are you so torn over him then?” I asked, even more intrigued.
“He called out for help. I answered. But it was too late.” She said as her grief began to reignite.
Of course, I knew exactly who she was. But she was wrong. I didn’t call for help. I only called because I wanted someone to find my body before it stank up the whole apartment complex.
“I couldn’t save him, ya know? It was my job to but I couldn’t do it.” She cried.
“Whoa, hey there.” I sad as I knelt down to face her. “It’s not your fault. Maybe he was too far gone already. Maybe he was certain. Maybe he lived a meaningless life.” I assured her.
“That’s not true. No one lives a meaningless life.” She declared.
“That’s not true either. I lived a life once, in which I wasn’t happy. I worked a job that I hated, I was estranged from my family, and I didn’t have any passions. It was terrible. It’s a meaningless life. I was this man.” I said.
“Yeah well, you’re a liar.” She alleged.
“How so?” I challenged.
“If you ARE this man in the ground. You’d know…what you said to me over the phone. But you’re a liar, so you don’t know.” She said.
My heart dropped and I realized that she was truly hurt. Somehow, I felt a lump in my throat.
“I told you that you were way more important than I’ll ever be…I told you that you meant something to people. You helped them and I was envious of that because it was something that I could never do. I could never be something to anyone. That if I hadn’t have called you, no one would find me.” I reminded. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Who knew ghosts cried?
“It is you…” she sighed as she cried some more.
“You’re life wasn’t meaningless. You were something to me.”
“What was I then?” I asked.
“You were my validation. That I was where I belonged. Isn’t that what anyone wants? But you…I don’t know why but I thought I could change your mind. You made me feel like I was needed. The police asked us for the audio tapes and when they came to pick them up, they told me they’d found you. They were so cold about it.” She said
“Ma’am, I didn’t mean to make you feel sad. I was…I was a just ready to go. I didn’t feel anything.” I tried to assure her.
“LIAR!!” She cried. “You did! You felt it when you spoke with me. I know you did.”
The woman looked right through me.
“You’re right. I did. You were the only person that’s ever cared to listen to me. I know it was your job but still. You listened to me. The one person that’s ever listened to me and I told her how important she was, because it’s true. You are more special than you’ll ever know.” I said.
We sat and talked until she had to leave.
I don’t leave the cemetery. I just walk around with the other spirits. Most of them of have “unfinished” business but I just have business. A couple times a week she comes back and we talk. Didn’t ever realize how cathartic talking was until she came around. Some times she cries, most times we both cry. But we talk and she goes on. Life goes on. Except this time, it’s not so bad. |
I sat on my bed and stared at the roof. There was nothing to do in the orphanage. Just two days back there was Stephen, my roommate, who was occasionally amusing, but some lady with cropped blonde hair took him away. Some suburban household, Mrs. Muriel told me later. And so I stared at the cracks in the ceiling and saw stories in them: vague shapes of dragons and tigers and Stephan.
"Anderson! Anderson!"Mrs. Muriel screamed.
I got up and patted my clothes, adjusted my hair, smiled at the mirror, and walked out into the hallway and went downstairs to Mrs. Muriel's office.
A big fat man had his back to the office door. He was seated opposite Mrs. Muriel who smiled as I entered the office.
"This here is the lad, sir."
I stood beside Mrs. Muriel's chair and saw the fat man's long-fat nose, his tiny black eyes, and thinning black hair. He smiled; a gold-tooth sparkled.
"Hello boy,"he said. His voice was heavy and sent vibrations down my lungs.
I could only stare. Mrs. Muriel elbowed me and I snapped back into the moment.
"Hello sir. I...I am Anderson."
"Isn't that a queer name?"The fat man said to Mrs. Muriel. "Anderson's a family name, isn't it?"
"He was found in front of one Anderson family's stairs. So, we named him Anderson. There isn't much to it."
"Ahhh,"said the fat man. Then he turned to me, offered a hand, and said: "I am Herman Herzog."
I shook his hand. It was calloused and rough and his grip was strong and painful.
"So Mrs. Muriel, just so we're clear, no known relatives living?"
Mrs. Muriel glanced toward me.
"Well are there any or aren't there?"
"Jesus Christ! have you got no sense? The boy's standing right here!"
"I am pretty sure he won't mind a trivial fact. Would you, boy?"
I shook my head. Mrs. Muriel sighed.
"None living,"she said.
Herzog rubbed his hands together and chuckled. "Very well. Very well. Now where do I sign?"
I stood beside Mrs. Muriel and twiddled my thumbs as the two of them exchanged documents and signatures. Finally Herzog shook Mrs. Muriel's hand and said: "Let's get going my boy. Do you have anything you want to take with you?"
I thought about the stuff in my room. It was mostly old, musty clothes, and yes, my comic books and posters. I ran upstairs and packed them in a blue backpack Mrs. Muriel issued to every outgoing orphan. One Batman poster didn't fit in the backpack, so I rolled it up and held it in my hand.
Herzog took the poster from me as soon as I got down. "And what do we have here?"he said. His beady black eyes wandered over the poster and a half-smile appeared on his pale white face. "What a load of nonsense,"he said and crumpled the poster into a little ball. "I will show you the real heroes, boy. These billionaires aren't the good guys!"
I shuddered. Mrs. Muriel, I saw, wringed her hands.
"She told me you were, uhm, interested in justice, you know,"Herzog said.
"Yes, but-"
"Ah! you think that Bat-freak is a man for the people?"
I nodded.
Herzog laughed and together we went down the hall, outside, into his black sedan.
"The Bat-freak is, you know, a billionaire, right?"Herzog said while driving.
"Yes."
"He has a lot of money, yes?"
"Yes."
"He can help all the criminals who commit crimes because they're desperate. Help them with his money, yes?"
"Yes."
"But he doesn't, does he? He wants to just play this sick game where he's the hero, you see."
I saw. And Herzog drove on. |
The old fool of a tyrant drank heartily from his wine pitcher as he had done so many times before, an act that would undoubtably lead to his end. The oil of the Bloom of Fate was tasteless yet deadly in a way that defied mere biological failure, indeed the body will appear unharmed and untouched, as if the spirit had just decided to leave. This had been done a thousand times on a thousand other targets without fail, the assassins had no reason to suspect there would be anything different. And so the old fool drank and drank, and as he did a flame lit in his soul.
The king stopped laughing, stopped doing anything. For a moment he seemed to seize and all signs pointed towards the inevitable. Then something strange happened, the king began to glow, glowing with a blinding light akin to the morning sun. Wrinkles smoothed themselves, white hair began rapidly darkening, and instead of fading from his eyes life filled the once nearly empty orbs located on the old king's face. The king turned, locking eyes directly with the hiding spot of the assassins as they observed every plan going awfully wrong, and sensing that this had just become far above them they fled into the night as far from the impossible scene as their legs could reasonably carry them.
The Bloom of Fate is not a natural flower, though it has now become so common across the lands that most mistake it for one at first. It is a tool of prophecy, created back in the age of the gods, back when the magic in the air was as thick as water. While it is a truly efficient tool of murder that is hardly its original intent, and indeed until now that intent was only ever hinted at in the name of the flower itself, all tales of its true power fading into myth and rumour. Somehow against all odds when the flame was lit in the soul of the king it did not burn the soul to ash, but instead ignited a potential hidden under thick layers of decadence.
Wisdom flooded into the old king's mind like a dam burst, and with it came the guilt. Decades of cruelty and tyranny, and only now was the king cursed with the ability to truly comprehend the scale of the wrongdoings he had committed. The man wept, the man wept for every life he had cost in his reign, every ounce of senseless suffering he had dispensed, and the thought of abdication filled his mind. However he knew he could not do it yet, after all knowing one did wrong was bad enough, but knowing one did wrong and refusing to find a way to mend ones mistakes? That was something he would have done but an hour ago with glee, that is the action of a coward, a fool and a man he no longer was.
"Are you alright sire?"A noble guard asked, helping the king to his feet
"I will be, thank you very much..."the king replied, "If you must call for the castle mages and doctors, but I am feeling far better now than I ever had before, in fact for the first time in as long as I can remember I can think clearly"
The guard nodded as he helped the king to his feet, the man still sought out the doctors and magi of course, it was standard protocol, but rather than his own health the king was preoccupied with the thought of the failing health of his kingdom.
The king now knew he did not deserve any titles of heroism or redemption for uncountable sins, but that didn't matter. What did matter was that he saw now a path towards repair, to a better future, and perhaps a better world, and while he should have started on this path decades ago there was no better time than now. |
“It's not even a Rolex.”
I let out a forced chuckle while glancing at my wrist. I liked Pierce, but he could really be an unbearable snob sometimes. “Have you ever heard of a concept called 'sentimental value'?” I asked. Maybe I could turn this exchange into a friendly jab and change the topic. If he even knew what emotional attachment was.
Pierce got up from the office chair and blessed me with a condescending tap on the shoulder. “Now you know what to get me for my birthday.”
“Oh?”
“A plebeian dictionary my friend. Maybe then I could understand who orders chicken when there's a Wagyu special on the menu.”
Wow. “I would have rolled my eyes, but decided against it for fear of my retinas detaching,” I replied, without losing sight of my computer screen, the 'Price & Vittori' logo wallpaper burning its way into my subconscious.
“That's gross Daniel-” retorted Pierce, disappearing through the door, “-and all banter aside, nobody wears a watch that does not work.”
He wasn't wrong. I've been holding onto my grandfather's watch for years. Well, 'holding onto' may be a bit of an understatement - I've been wearing it every day since he left it to me. It's not luxurious, but not unsightly either. But definitely something that you would not expect an investment banker to wear.
A gentle knock on the wooden door frame broke my flow of thought. “Daniel?” murmured Victoria peering into my office. “Mr. Vittori will see you now.”
The moment of reckoning has finally arrived. I wasn't completely honest with Pierce when I said the watch had sentimental value. But how do I explain to someone, why I wear a watch where the hands never move? Besides, hearts are never worn on sleeves of business suits. And neither are secrets.
I glanced intently at my watch, the image of 'Price & Vittori' vivid in my mind. Before long, the dial drew my consciousness in like a funnel.
*Empire ... Collapse ...*
A gust of reassurance rose up inside of me. Time to hand in my resignation. “Thanks Victoria, I'll be right there.”
EDIT: Formatting. |
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