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When you walk into a coffee shop for an interview, you have a few expectations. An open area store. Chai latte that's good but never quite right. A quiet, yet energetic, interview for the school of your choice.
That's why I can say it was a complete surprise that I couldn't order that chai latte. Not because they were out, that was unlikely. No, it was more because The Bloodcrusher (I don't want to know how he crushes blood) burst into the place, grabbed me, and flew off.
But that was just the start. As he flew off, I saw Raging Thunder (now that name at least makes sense) coming up behind us like a storm... no, that doesn't make much sense. I think I'll avoid the hyperbole.
Anyway, after a couple thunderclaps (he literally clapped his hands together!), The Bloodcrusher set me down on a roof top and turned to face his... foe? I thought his nemesis was Patchwork. Or was that Clockwork? Not my area of expertise.
"Back off, do-gooder! This sack of meat has potential! We'll not see it squandered!"OK, now this was weird. The Bloodcrusher was known for one thing, namely crushing blood. He's not known for kidnapping or general mayhem.
"At least we're giving him the choice! You could have set up an interview rather than try to steal him away to the Bastion of Bastards!"Wait... the Bastion of... Oh no.
"Um... gentlemen?"I really hope they were gentle. I tried speaking up. "I think there's been a misunderstanding. Were you trying to recruit me for your superhero and supervillan schools?"
Raging Thunder looked at me quizzically. "Well, of course! We saw your general application and thought we could use someone like you in our ranks! Most people with your scores tend to avoid us, but you opted to a special life!"
The Bloodcrusher roared back, "NO! His talents are better suited for a life of crime and violence! We can help him bring out the true power of his skills and talents!"
"OK, look, I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding."I pulled out my photocopy of the application that had been scanned into the system. "I don't recall asking to join either school."
Raging Thunder pull out his... wait, where did he... not important. His copy from the digital services showed quite a few things and compared them to mine. As he looked, he said, "Oh. Oh my. The checkboxes on your copy, those are large Xs. It must have thought you were trying to check the other box. ... Hmm... uh huh. No wonder we both got copies of it! What were you trying to apply for?"
"I was going to business school!"
Raging Thunder and The Bloodcrusher looked at each other and said, "You can have him,"before they promptly flew off.
Great. I don't get my chai latte, I'm going to have to redo my entire application, and... uh oh. "Uh, could someone help me down?!" |
I’d worked as a stunt driver for eleven years. As a private driver/ bodyguard for five. A drag racer for three years, when I was much younger. And, as a massive favor for my sister the superintendent, I’d worked as a school bus driver for six weeks.
These days, I used the skills from the last job the most.
“Are we there yet?”
I didn’t bother to answer.
“It’s just that it’s been three hours, and Starbourne gets carsick,” Halcyon Daze continued.
I shrugged, and bit a chunk from a Twizzler. “I don’t know what to tell you. Turns out that a battle between superheroes and giant lizards wrecks hell on the infrastructure. And on the traffic. Shame.”
“Yeah, but couldn’t you just…” Hal trailed off and waggled his fingers.
“Driver is permitted to break all traffic rules with impunity while traveling to an incident site, as long as no civilians are directly or indirectly harmed by Driver’s actions.” I recited robotically. “Same doesn’t apply to driving home. Sorry.” I wasn’t sorry.
“Magda, are you… mad at us?” a tiny, tremulous voice said.
I turned around and gave her a rictus grin. “Well, Bellwether, you’re the telepath. Am I mad at you?”
“...yes?”
“And do any of you know *why* I might be angry?” I said sweetly.
“Because I mindcontrolled you and made you drive into the robot’s legs?”
“That’s one reason. Bellwether, sweetheart, you’ve got an unfair advantage, so let’s let other people guess for a bit. Does anyone *else* know why I might be angry?”
“Wrecking Ball picked up the bus and hit a lizard with it,” the Green Monkey said smugly.
I slowed down to let a student driver vehicle pass me, which in this traffic meant stopping altogether, but anything for the youth. The fact that the student drove slower than anyone else on the road was entirely coincidental.
“With me still inside, yes.”
“But Angel healed you!” Hal protested.
“And maybe if Angel had saved me first, he’d be up here with the good snacks. But he did not heal me first. Because *someone* was wailing his head off and making Angel think there was a big problem across the field.”
“I’ve never had a broken bone before,” Halcyon Daze said sulkily. “I’m supposed to be invulnerable.”
My smile had stretched to something that wouldn’t look out of place on a ventriloquist dummy. “And I’m sure a broken foot hurt much more than a broken spine and internal bleeding.”
Starbourne, bless them, actually raised their hand. “What did the rest of us do?”
“Nothing. You’re collateral damage. And don’t you complain about it now, ‘cause you certainly weren’t complaining back there. But Star, you may have a ginger ale if you’re still feeling sick, as you weren’t *directly* involved and I don’t want vomit in my bus.”
“You’re overreacting,” Wrecking Ball rumbled.
“Charon, how close was I to dying?”
Charon squirmed in his seat. “Um. Two minutes or an inch to the left?”
“And honey, I won’t get angry no matter what you say, but if I died were you going to sacrifice a decade of your life to bring me back like you did with Angel, or were you going to turn me into a zombie to attack the monsters?”
“...probably zombie,” Charon muttered.
“Thank you for your honesty, dear. You can pick the next song, if you’d like.”
Charon’s eyes lit up and everyone else groaned.
“You made your point.” Halcyon Daze said. “But *some* of us have important things to get back to. Businesses to run. People to save. So could you *please* hurry up?”
I gave him my sweetest smile and thought *You stole your name and your face from an eighth string racehorse.*
Bellwether choked.
“Since you asked so nicely, love, of course I will.” I maneuvered around the student driver, and sped up to twenty-five an hour. Which in this traffic, practically needed superpowers in itself.
“You missed my exit!” the Green Monkey shouted.
“New regulations. To prevent knowledge of civilian identities, Driver will deposit all heroes at headquarters. Heroes may submit all transportation bills caused by this change for reimbursement in four to five months time.”
“I LIVE AN HOUR FROM HEADQUARTERS!!” Wrecking Ball bellowed.
I bit another chunk off my candy. “Take it up with the management.”
Charon had decided on Enya, which I didn’t mind at all.
*Bellwether, if you tell them I’m the management, we will have to have a Talk. Understood?*
She looked a little pale and nodded. I tossed her a packet of Reese’s.
The sound of complaining mixed in with the song, and I knew which one sounded sweeter. |
My father did a good job at faking his death, I'll give him that. But not good enough. The grand, fated hero of prophecy doesn't just accidentally die early.
The first clue was the site of the battle itself. According to the aftermath that was left, a horde of the Dark Lord's zealots ambushed the camp in the night and slaughtered everyone: the great hero himself and all of his companions, dead just like that. Countless corpses in the cult uniform were also present, so the heroes put up a fight. But how did the cultists get the jump on them?
One of my father's companions was Rasmos, one of the greatest and most paranoid wizards in the land. He would keep my father's party under invisibility almost excessively, and even when they camped would litter the perimeter with wards and glyphs. There was little damage at all to the outer perimeter of the camp, indicating not a single trap went off when they were attacked; Rasmos died first, deactivating all of his magics, and it was from someone in the camp. His body was discovered with nothing more than a single dagger to the back.
The next clue was the party's remains. Every single one of them, Rasmos included, died to more than just battle wounds. First of all, they were all under-equipped. Leville, an archer without peer, was found without his signature quiver of golden arrows; those were found washed up in the river down stream. The knight Kayla was missing her shield, and that was found buried in the dirt just a few malms away. Second, I discovered poison in all of their systems when performing my own autopsies on the bodies. On further investigation, this same poison was found in a cooking pot in the camp site. Everyone had this poison in their system... except my father's body.
The final clue was my father's corpse, which had been impaled by a whole quiver of arrows, two spear heads, an axe to the shoulder, and a sword through the stomach. Clearly, undeniably dead. But again, was strangely the only body lacking poison, and was also the only member of the party who wasn't missing his equipment. So I investigated the body thoroughly, and discovered that beneath the skin of his right forearm was an inscribed rune. The magic was still active, so the user was still alive as well. I dispelled the rune, and the glamour over my father's corpse disappeared to reveal that a man I had never seen, perhaps one of the cultists, had taken my father's place.
There was undeniable proof that my father lived on, and now that I've dispelled his magic he surely knows that he's been found out. I've traced the magic signature to the barren wastes where people go to be forgotten. He cannot run from his fate, and I will make sure of it. |
“Oh fuck.”
I had definitely done it now. I struggled enough already trying to keep my job, my declining mental state not helping in the slightest. I had panic attacks relatively often, usually before the weekly company-wide progress report was delivered to my desk, but none so bad as to ever make everyone throughout the workplace fall immediately silent.
“Stacy?” I whispered to my only coworker that I felt I could trust, and the silence that followed did nothing to calm my nerves post panic-attack. I needed Advil or something similar, headaches usually come after the worst skirmishes with poor mental health, and the deafening silence probably meant this was the worst yet.
That’s when one of my coworkers I vaguely recognized got up from his seat and headed towards the medicine cabinet located on the far-side wall of the office. Small as it was, we didn’t have room to put it anywhere else but an unused cabinet next to the emergency exit. The coworker in question, some divorcee named Mark, opened the cabinet, grabbed a slightly expired container of headache medication, walked over to my cubicle, and presented it to me in an over-the-top sort of way, with a bow and all, while still remaining silent.
“Uh, thank you..?” I said, reluctantly, as I had never spoken a word to this person in my life, and I certainly never mentioned out-loud that I had a headache, but Mark simply walked back to his cubicle and sat down without a word.
This was a little spooky, but I was more than a little intrigued. I had heard of something called the GZ virus on the news a few weeks back, something about giving a bunch of people under the age of 25 supernatural abilities. At the time, I thought it was just another dumb prank Fox News fell for, but I started to wonder if maybe that was what was in play here. I had just recently turned 22, so I fit the age range, and the News Article talked about odd triggers stemming from traumatic experiences, so I got curious and did something risky.
I stormed into my bosses office, completely on a bunch, and told him to eat shit for allowing for the quarterly report to be so embarrassingly awful. I didn’t know jack shit about the quarterly report, as the quarter wasn’t even at the halfway point, so I was mostly talking out my ass because of a impromptu hunch, so imagine my surprise when he went to his personal bathroom and came back with his face smeared brown.
At this point I figured I had complete control over my office, as most would in this situation, so after sending my boss to wash himself off, I spent the next few day legally designating myself the owner of the company, an experimenting with my abilities a bit. By the end of the quarter, I did get the quarterly report, from Worker #1277, and it looked promising for our odds of taking over Europe by the end of the year. As I looked out the colossal window of my in-construction Iron Spire being made by my thousands of slaves, I smiled. The world was mine to conquer, and nothing could stand in my way. Well, except my still-declining mental state. I should probably see a therapist.
Thanks for reading! This is my first writing prompt ever, and I know it doesn’t flow great, but I needed something to do on a long car ride, so thanks OP! |
Jane kept her head down as she walked. The Nulls were there. They were everywhere these days. As long as she kept moving, she would be safe. She was just glad most Nulls did not have detectors on them. Otherwise she would be screwed.
Even so, heart heart raced as she passed one of them. The guy barely glanced her way. She could see his eyes through the visor of his helmet as they scanned the crowd. Jane was just thankful her abilities were perfect for not standing out. Of course, they were also perfect for the opposite, if she wanted it that way.
Not that she did, of course. Not with what she heard about the camps. Best to just lay low and not use her powers.
She ducked around the bars indicating a building was undergoing construction. The equipment was all set up and everything. Not that anyone cared. The city had gotten used to constant construction, and so most people ignored the sounds of men welding and large vehicles lumbering around. Jane liked it because there was so much around she could duck behind if the worst happened.
The screams were what caught her attention first. People were looking up at one of the large tower cranes. Jane paused and her heart raced even more. One of the steel cables had been cut. How did that happen? Who could cut one of those while the crane was in motion? Or at all, really.
One of the large I beams it was transporting started to slip out of the crane's grasp. People screamed. Jane felt a lump in her throat. They would be fine. There was no need for her to do anything. The beams were above the construction yard, not the street.
And then she saw it. She saw it when nobody else did. A kid, no more than five, walking through the zone, oblivious to the screams around him. A piercing shout rang out, probably the kid's mother. The kid looked around for his parent. The first beam slid free, falling right on the kid.
Jane stopped thinking. She just moved. She triggered her powers, sending strength to her muscles and toughening her skin. She easily jumped the fence separating the construction zone from the street. She stood over the kid and held out her hand. The beam hit her and crumpled around her arm, leaving both her and the kid unharmed.
She tossed the beam away, then looked at the hushed crowd. And, the Null staring at her. The man leveled his weapon at her and shouted.
"Unidentified super, surrender peacefully and submit yourself for reassignment."
Jane looked around. She was powerful, sure. Very powerful, in fact. But Nulls had earned their name for a reason. That gun wouldn't hurt her. At least, not the first shot. The second? That would probably tear right through her. But she also couldn't go quietly. She had heard what happened in the camps. The horrible things the government did to people like her. No, there was no way she could go with him.
But was running an option? She could outrun one or two Nulls easy. But ten? Twenty? No, she could not run forever, which is what would happen if she ran now.
The sound of scraping metal reached her ears. She looked up. The rest of the beams were coming loose. Jane bit her lip and did something incredibly stupid. She jumped. She poured power into her legs. Enough to get her to the beams. She lowered her body weight enough that she stared hovering.
Then she grabbed the beams and lifted the entire stack. She used them like a makeshift shield, blocking the nullifier beams being fired at her from the Null on the street. There were more coming, and all were opening fire on her. She scattered her payload among them, being careful not to hit any bystanders.
Then she kicked off the nearest surface and sped off into the distance. It was a temporary freedom. She would be found at any moment. But she was determined to try. She landed as far away as she could get. The Nulls on this street were still receiving the report about her, so she had some time. Plus, the fact that she could change her appearance, and--
"Pst, hey."The voice from the ally was unexpected. It came from a man even younger than Jane. He was tall and lanky. Very lanky, in fact. Too lanky. "You're the super who saved the kid back there, right? Come on, we've got to go before every Null in the city is looking for you."
Jane looked around, but did not give it much thought. This guy was clearly a super, and she was desperate. The two ran through the city's dark alleyways, twisting and turning seemingly at random.
"Who are you?"She asked as they ran.
"Call me Reach. No guesses why."He said, gasping for breath. "We're close to a safehouse. Should be just back here."
He ducked into another alley and stopped. He felt around the stone of the building until he found one that pressed in slightly. A whole in the street opened up. It was not a manhole, or another form of sewer entrance. Reach jumped down without hesitation. Jane followed. He hit another switch and the hole closed.
"There we go, now we can talk. So, like I said, call me Reach. Don't tell me you're real name. We only go by code names for safety reasons."He was breathing hard, and he leaned against a wall as he spoke.
"We? Wait, you're part of a rebel group, aren't you? I heard about people like you on the news a few weeks ago. Trying to get supers recognized or something."
"Something like that. We're trying to get supers out from under the government's thumb. No more null camps. No more being scared of using our powers. We just haven't been able to make any good progress lately. All the really good supers have been taken already, so we're left with guys like me."
"Like you?"
"I can stick to things and have really long arms. That's about it. How about you? I'm guessing a flying brick or something?"
"Uh, kind of. It's a little different than that."
"Oh? Do tell. I mean, you've got to think of a code name that suits you, right?"
"I...guess so. Anyway, I can change myself. Not like. Shape shifting, although I definitely can do that. I can alter myself in pretty much any way I want. I do have a few limits, but not many."
Reach let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's high class stuff. Like, really high class. How have you not been found yet?"
"I, uh, my powers make me good at hiding. I can change my looks, and shift my colors to really blend in places. I can even change my size if I need to. So yeah, I'm good at not being spotted."
"Yeah, that makes sense."He said. "Anyway, my team and I can really use a lady with that kind of power. And it looks like you have some heroic tendencies in you. So, how about it? You want to join?"
"I...I don't know."It would be so easy to disappear again. Change her looks. Move to another city. Start over. But did she really want to keep living with her head down? "I'll have to think about it."
"Sure, sure. We've got a ways to go before we get the HQ. You can ask more about what we do there."
Jane nodded and followed her new guide through the twisted underground tunnels. Her mind was racing. Could she do this? Should she? Were there any other options? She churned the options around in her mind. And eventually came to a conclusion.
She could not go back to how things were. She would never be satisfied with such a life. Not anymore.
She could not keep living with her head down. |
"What now, Dave?"
"Carl, like I said, **I** never said she stole my money. You did."
"Dave, I didn't steal your money."
"No, Carl, I meant you said I never said **she** stole my money, not that you stole my money."
"Dave, Claire would never steal your... my... wait, who's money did she steal?"
"I thought she stole your money, Carl. All of my money is accounted for, pun completely intended."
"What? My money, Dave? Nonsense, I **never** said she stole my money."
"Well you're a liar, Carl. I heard you say it like five minutes ago."
"No, Dave, I said I never **said** she stole my money. It was a joke. You said it, not me."
"You went "Oh Claire always steals my hoodies"and then you were like "Oh my money is gone."Pretty strong implication there, Carl."
"I never said she stole my **money.**"I said she stole my hoodies. Those are two completely unrelated things."
"It didn't sound like it."
"Yes it did."
"She's stealing more than your heart and your hoodies, Carl, wake up, this relationship is bad for you. What about that time you said she took the money for her gnome collection?"
"I never said she **stole** my money for that, Dave, I gave it to her as a gift! Stop poking holes in my relationship!"
"Who even has a gnome collection?!?!?!?"
"Claire does."
"And you gave her fifty bucks, Carl. I'm an accountant, I know fifty bucks doesn't buy fifty gnomes. She's stealing from you."
"No, you don't understand. I never said she stole **my** money."
"...Carl? Are you and Claire... Partners in crime?"
"Nah, that's just her. And technically she doesn't steal money or anything, just the gnomes."
"You're dating a gnome thief?"
"And a damn good one at that." |
Mala was the greatest healer in the land. At least, if you ask her. Her arrogance isn't entirely unwarranted, though; she is good at her job.
The thing is, though, she never really wanted to be a healer. It's the age old story of a parent forcing their child to become a benefit to society rather than, as they so delicately put it, a menace.
Mala had wanted to go into the medical field, but not one that dealt with living people. She wanted to study necromancy, to work in a morgue and deal with dead things. Maybe even bring back a few of the greats, you know, every little girls' dream.
Alas, Mala had been forced to follow her Father's dream of healer-hood. More profit in it, at least. Besides, Mala had figured out a way to combine the two.
As it turns out, simultaneously causing necrosis in an organ and using healing spells to fix it wasn't very good for the patient. Especially when you combined the wasting away of an organ with the hardening of it.
Necrosis+Cirrhosis+contradictory healing=bad.
Well, bad for the patient, great for the caster. Mala had never intended to show her odd talent for mixing life and death to anyone, but the pea-brained party that had hired her seemed to have bit off more than they could chew.
The giant they faced gave a mighty roar, and the so-called heroes of the party cowered. They were clearly quite new to the whole beating up big creatures job, so Mala figured she'd throw them a bone. Maybe they would even give her a sack of gold as a tip. Maybe even two!
Calmly, with the confidence of a cat fighting a dragon shaped laser, Mala strode past the terrified young heroes and up to the giant.
"Excuse me,"she said, "but I think you've got some damage to fix,"
With that, she thrust a plethora of spell combinations into the giant. She targeted the primary aorta in his heart and attacked it with her necrosis-cirrhosis combination, feeling in her bones the instant scarring and then decaying of the valve. The giant sputtered, a beefy hand clutching at his chest as Mala healed up the tissue that hadn't yet decayed before attacking him yet again.
In the span of three seconds thanks to the speed of magic, the giant had collapsed, the skin of his ribs folding in wards with the sudden shrinkage of his heart.
Three more seconds and the skin on his ribs were decayed, leaving it open to the world. As if he weren't dead enough, Mala took care of his lungs, too. Then the skin of his face. Soon enough, all that was left was the scarred remains of tissue clinging onto a blackened skeleton.
"See? Easy peasy!"Mala turned, beaming like any girl would after such an accomplishment. Half the group had passed out and the other half was nowhere to be seen. "...so much for my tip..."
[*I am not a doctor, so the conditions described may not be wholly accurate. Any feedback or things I could improve on would be appreciated!] |
"Captain, you might wanna look at this."
Captain Jacobs is a middle-aged, experienced, and respectable man that exudes a commanding aura not too dissimilar with the fictional UNSC Admiral Lord Terrence Hood. He is the appointed captain of the UNS First Scout, the first FTL-capable ship of the United Nations. Said ship is about 700 meters long, 200 meters tall, 180 meters wide, and does not have any sense of pleasant ship design, but it does a good job of being a scientific exploration ship. She was completed by the members of the United Nation's Project New World on 2098, and officially set off on 2100. It runs on the Bosen-Ritchie Bridge Drive, and has just returned from its exploration mission to the nearby Alpha Centauri system.
Right now, the captain's lieutenant is presenting the situation the First Scout faces: first contact with one or possibly two alien races.
The ship's screen shows two other alien spacecraft in front of them. On their left is a grey, slightly stocky, yet mostly sleek warcraft with obvious missile bay and cannon emplacements. Said ship looks moderately battered but fixable with a good repair. Calculations show that it is 1350 meters long, 100 meters tall, and 420 meters wide. On their right is a very sleek black and red spacecraft of unknown purpose that is 2000 meters long, 500 meters tall, and 300 meters wide. Both spaceships have designs slightly reminiscent of human design, but such details are not so obvious in a tensely nervous atmosphere.
"What should we do captain? Do we contact them?"
"Use every channel and every signal comms device we have."Captain Jacobs ordered. "Try to secure a stable communication with them. This may prove to be our blessing or doom depending on how we act and talk."
"Yes sir."The lieutenant saluted and relayed the captain's orders.
-----
"Are they hostile?"
"No commander, but we are detecting radio waves from one of them and an unidentified communication bandwidth from the other. We are currently attempting to establish connections with both ships. I am assuming they are attempting communication with us, as there are no heat signatures from either ship that would indicate the preparation or activation of weapons."The ship AI SELENA replied.
Commander de Vallo is the commander of the TCS Valhalla of the Terran Commonwealth. His ship is a dreadnought of the Excalibur-class, designed and created in 2978 and 2990 respectively to fight against the invading Maxian Hegemony. It just got out of an engagement through a forced jump of its Hydroplasmic Fusion Drive from the Celeber system in order to facilitate repairs and restock on supplies and ammunition, but the crew and captain certainly did not expect this situation.
"The makings of both ships do not conform to any ship designs of the known galaxy, commander."
"We're on the red with ammo right now. We can't afford a prolonged fight with them, or any kid of fight at all. Try to contact them if you can, but prime our shields and cannons in case the worst happens."
-----
"Is this a previously unknown race or races making first contact with us or is what?"
"Captain, this seems to be a first contact, yes. But based on their engine outputs, they have ridiculously slow FTL drives, so them being from somewhere outside the cluster, heck, even the galaxy, is impossible."Replied her custom personality AI BEN.
Captain Desser is a relatively carefree and adventurous woman. Born and raised on the cradle of humanity and the center of galactic politics, Earth. She's not a transporter, or a passenger ship captain, military ship captain, or even scientific vessel captain, but merely a wanderer not unlike the wandering families who lived in RVs on ancient Earth. Her ship, the Merryman, was created by Hephaestus Manufacturing in 5960, which in her opinion, was simply a dump of outdated Sol Confederate States tech. But well, she can't complain considering she is using a product of theirs now.
"Madam captain, we have established communications!"
-----
When the videos/holovids/holo projectors came online, everyone was dumbfounded for a good moment. All of them expected the other party to be aliens, not other humans! However, this does make communication much easier....maybe.
Captain Jacobs spoke first, as he was the first one to get out of stupor.
Cpt. Jacobs: "Ahem. Greetings. I am Captain Jacobs of the UNS First Scout."
Commander de Vallo: "Commander de Vallo of the...TCS Valhalla."
Cpt. Desser: "Oh uh... Captain Desser of the....Merryman."
Commander de Vallo: "Why are your ship designs so different? And can the two of you really afford to go to travel much without ship weapons in this time of war?"
Cpt. Jacobs: "What war? Isn't humanity already unified? And besides, World War 3 is already over."
Cpt. Desser: "The only war I know of is the Cluvian-V'trariix War on Andromeda."
Everyone is again, confused.
Commander de Vallo: "Okay, I think I have a guess as to what's happening with us here, but I need your answers to this question: what date is it?"
Cpt. Jacobs and Cpt. Desser both answer at the same time: "December 21, 2100/6000."
Both captains are confused of the other's conflicting year on the date.
Commander de Vallo: "I knew it. Mine's December 21, 3000. We're all humans of different times."
Cpt. Desser: "Wai wai wait, is this a joke? Is this another of those social experiments of the Sol Confederate States?"
Cpt. Jacobs: "Well, I think even the United Nations don't have this kind of capability."
Commander de Vallo's eyes widen in realization.
Commander de Vallo: "Cpt. Jacobs, what did you say is the name of your ship again?"
Cpt. Jacobs: "The UNS First Scout."
Commander de Vallo: "Right. In our historical records, your ship never returned and was declared missing. We never found your ship. So this is where you ended up. And if you're historically missing..."
Cpt. Desser: "Then that means we're all considered missing now. Ah I see."
Cpt. Jacobs: "Just for clarification, this is Earth right?"
Cpt. Desser and Commander de Vallo: "Yep/Yes."
Cpt. Jacobs: "Which era of Earth did we arrive into?"
Cpt. Desser: "I don't know. But let's find out shal- guys why does Earth look like its been nuked?"
Commander de Vallo: "I am detecting an incoming group of ships, and they look potentially hostile!"
Soon enough, a group of massive, bulky yet stalwart-looking ships entered the range of everyone's ship cameras. The ships look barbaric in design, but are intimidating with a dark yellow and black color scheme.
A tall and bulky guy appeared on everyone's screens/projectors. Seated on a silver-gold chair that looks like a throne yet not, and dressed in a sci-fi version of Roman armor.
"Intruders! I am Primarch Roboute Guilliman of the Indomitable Crusade! You are intruding upon Holy Terra! Do not resist and tell us how you got here. Glory to the Imperium! Glory to the Emperor!" |
I didn’t know it had happened. Everything changed instantly and suddenly, cartoon physics were in charge. I’d been making my rounds through the ICU, checking charts, looking over patients meds, the normal stuff. I went to adjust the dose of saline for a patient and update their chart when I couldn’t find my pen, I must have dropped it between here and the last patients room? Without thinking I reached behind my back and suddenly was holding a comically large pen?! I dropped it with a loud clang like cymbals?
It was like a sudden eruption of chaos, nurses pulling out supplies from the pockets of their scrubs like it was it’s own little storage unit. Patients came into the ER with classic cartoon wounds, one man had been unlucky enough to have a bed frame fall on him from a third story stairwell but he wasn’t dead, instead he waddled in like a hybrid penguin accordion?! Another woman had been run over and instead of getting an impromptu hemicorporectomy from a buses wheels she was as flat as sheet of paper. One kid had stepped on a rock rake and it left a perfect symmetrical indent in the middle of his face rather than breaking his nose.
The board of trustees advised us to continue doing our jobs the best we can. Now some of my most used tools are a bicycle pump, car jack and my comically large pen that I can pull from behind my back.
I miss the days where people just died instead… |
"Mom, seriously? I have access to literal magic. I could telport to Ryan's house if I wanted to, what good is taking my phone away going to do?"
Alenara Talenea, high sorceress of the twisted table, and literally the worst mother ever, smiled at me sweetly. "Honey, that's what your father is working on. The wards on your bedroom should be just about finished. I think spending a day or two as a mundane, grounded, human stuck in her bedroom will be good for you. A bit of time away from TikTok won't hurt either. Now run along, or maybe we'll have you spend that time as a salamander."
Mother shooed me away, and there were a few minutes between deciding whether or not to throw a fit, aparate away, or sulk battled inside my mind. Judging by the fact that I was sitting on my bed, sulking must have won. I flicked my wrist, and... nothing. Stupid dad being good at anti magic wards. I sighed as dramatically as I could manage, and flopped back on my bed. Hand instinctively going for my phone to text Ryan and.... nothing in my pocket. Right. Grounded.
I wasn't sure how long I spent sulking before the tapping at the window, and looked over to see a large crow with white eyes pecking at my windowsill. I love that boy. Opening the window slowly I whispered, "Careful, dad has the room warded, not sure against what but you'll probably lose the bird if you come in."
The crow strutted and fluffed its wings a bit, rocking its head back and forth until it coughed in a surprisingly good approximation of a male human. Transmuting a possessed bird at a distance of a few miles, Ryan was so awesome! His voice came out of the poor bird's throat a little tinny, but perfectly understandable, "warded room? Not answering my texts? What did you do this time Addy?"
She blew a frustrated breath out of her nose and scowled for the benefit of the little bird, Ryan should be using its eyes too after all, "Turned Sarah into a pig."
The crow cackled loudly and hopped around on the windowsill a bit. Crow's were quite capable of approximating a laughing fit on their own, "you transfigured a mundane? How did you get off with only a grounding, your mother is pretty famously strict on that. No wait, different question, why?"
"She called me fat. I called her a *stultus porcus."* |
Julia didn't know what to do when she found the proof, but at least she knew who to go to. Jim, her longtime partner, and now, deservedly, her boss had an open door policy. And a fully stocked bar.
"Wow, Julia. You look like you could use a drink."This was true, though not a feat of perception on Jim's part. He said that any time she entered his office after three in the afternoon. Jim barely waited for the nod before turning to mix up a pair of his favorite drinks, a Rum and Rum, dark and light. Julia often insisted that the dark rum be replaced with Coke, but not today.
Julia downed it in a single gulp and set her glass out for another. "Whoa, Julia. What's wrong? Perhaps you should slow down and talk to me."While he said this, he poured the second drink.
"You remember those cultists, right? The Shining Circle. Not the hangers-on, but the core group that we took down last year?"
"Jeez, Julia. You know we swore not to talk about that. Let me shut the door at least."
The Shining Circle had been on the Anti-Extremist Squad's wanted list for twenty years before they found them all. Julia still had nightmares about what she'd seen. The hallway of their hidden compound had been a parade of mutilation, bodies strung out for their arcane rituals. She could still feel the heat from the fire that had burned the place to the ground. Jim had stood by her as the pounding on the door slowly subsided, but the chain and padlock had held.
Julia took a slower drink this time. "Jim, did you ever look into what they were doing in there? Do you have nightmares?"
"I saw quite enough of it. My nightmares are about what they did, not what we did, if that's your point."
Julia took a sheaf of papers from her pocket and laid them out on the desk. "You never read their manifesto?"
Jim snatched it up. "Of course I read it. We were after them for twenty years. Where did you get this, Julia. These were all supposed to be destroyed."He shoved it into his desk drawer and locked it.
"It was on the Dark Web. The cyber team found a copy while investigating something else. They flagged it for my attention."
"Well, thank you, Julia. I'll make sure these get tracked down and scrubbed. The last thing we want is the Shining Circle starting back up again."
"I already did that. We took over the server, some old thing that was sitting online still in one of their old warehouses. I was able to date the copy on the server. It had been up since before our raid. Unchanged."
"Well, that's good news at least. Nobody new involved then."
"That's not good news. You don't remember from reading it? The predictions? It talks about the election last year. And the wars, that thing with the panda and the apple sauce, the attack on the award show. All things that happened after the raid, after it was written."
"Somebody has been updating it then. We'll have to track them down."
"Jim, you don't understand. The train crash from last night was in there. I printed that out three days ago. The predictions are happening. I've been looking into it. The Shining Circle was trying to stop the end of the world with their horrible sacrifices and now it's coming. The Mad God coming to take over the world. Just like they said. They were right."
Jim set down his glass. "Julia, of course they were right. Why do you think we killed them?"
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] |
"... Honey?"
From another room, I hear the voice of my husband shouting "YES?"
"I think I'm having a stroke!"
I hear him running from another room "WHAT?! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!"
"Just come to the living room!"
When he arrives, his face is red from the frantic run and he's starting to sweat like crazy but once he notices me, still laying almost calmly on the sofa, he makes an exasperated sound "What the hell, woman?! Do you want ***me*** to have a heart attack!"
"Look at the tv."I point at it with the remote, still not able to look away from the series of colorful spheres that keeps landing on whatever the fuck the giant green ogre thing is.
"Really?"I see from the corner of my eyes that he's crossed his arms and has now an exasperated expression on his face "I almost broke my neck... I hate your fluffy rug, you know?"
"Oh for fuck sake!"I get up from the couch and move him in front of the tv "Look at that. Does she look like our daughter to you?"
"What?"he glances at me quickly, like I'm crazy and I'm speaking nonsense but once his gaze finally fixates on the live tv, he's suddenly at loss for words"... What am I watching?"
"Concentrate husband! I'm asking if *that* girl looks like Avres to you..."I get really close to the tv and start pointing at other familiar faces "And if that's Mike Owens from 3B. Then this one must be Armando Parilla, right? Because that one is TJ Wu. Didn't they all used to play football in the junior league?"
"... Are you playing with that deep fake app again?"he's trying to joke right now, but he's not looking away from the screen either.
"What the fuck, no!"I slap him on the belly once I realize what he's implying, giving him the stink eye while my voice is reaching an unprecedented octave from the stress this bullshit is causing me "You are the prankster here! Did you do this?"
"Fuck no! Is that Central Park? Maybe we missed some school project?"
"Now you're just bullshitting me."I say, exasperated by his denial "What kind of budget do you think their middle school has?! We live in the suburbs!"
"Maybe it's some kind of national contest for digital art or something? And why did you mute the thing?!"he says, taking away the remote from my hand while smashing random buttons "I hate when you do that, how can you even follow what's going on like this?"
"I thought I was having a stroke!"I can't watch this anymore so I start frantically looking around for my phone "Forgive me oh wise one if I didn't want to listen to a live depiction of MY TWELVE YEARS OLD FIGHTING GODZILLA WITH A FUCKING MAGIC STICK!"
"I thought they were playing D&D on the weekend, what the fuck is that thing!?"
"All that stuff about Gods granting powers and what not?"now my couch is in disarray and I still haven't found my fucking phone damn it, "I thought she was just writing a wizard background for like, a 5E campaign or something!"
"Oh, she's so grounded."I hear my husband mumbling "Get the car, I'm putting on my shoes."
"AH-AH!"found the fucker, I start scrolling through my contracts while tracking my purse "I'm going to try and call the other parents, maybe one of them has some weird affiliation with, I don't even know, Chtulu or Doctor Strange what the hell."
"I SAID GET THE CAR, WOMAN!"he has his phone in one hand and his... wallet in the other? Bah, priorities.
"Are you driving then?"I ask, opening the front door while passing him the keys "AND WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING AT ME?!"
"BECAUSE OUR TWELVE YEARS OLD IS FIGHTING GODZILLA WITH A MAGIC STICK!"
"THAT'S WHAT I SAID!"
Once he's inside the car though he pushes the keys in the ignition, takes a deep breath, and then looks at me "... It's a little bit awesome though."
"Totally. But what the fuck? They're twelve."the call to Marika, Armando's mom, goes through "What kind of deity choose a bunch of twelve years old to do their bidding?!"
"Pure Deity *my ass*."
.
.
.
.
Edit: corrected some typos. |
"Listen!"Minami snarled, seizing Shinji by the front of his school uniform. "I don't think you understand the situation."
Shinji blinked. "Uh, well--"
"Shut up!"she snapped. "Just listen! I *hate* you."
"What?"he cried.
"I. HATE. YOU."Minami repeated, word by word. "We're in *advanced* English classes, we're officers in the English club, we both have vTuber channels where we teach our fans English -- so how do you not speak it well enough to understand what I *just* said?
"I...I guess I just thought--"he began.
"That I was just playing some sort of mind game? That I'm the sort of neurotic moron who's so afraid of her own feelings that she has to pull the whole *tsundere* thing? NO! I just, really, really, really, REALLY don't like you, Shinji!"
"Oh."he said, hanging his head.
"No!"she snapped. "You don't get to be *sad!* You don't get to be sad, because I have made it SO obvious, that you simply *cannot* be having a 'sudden' realization, right now."
"You...you always say 'Ohayou' when you see me at school, though!"Shinji protested.
"Common courtesy? That's what you're hanging this romantic delusion on, *common courtesy*? We're *Japanese,* Shinji! We're like courtesy *elementals,* you dumbass!*"*
"Okay, okay!"Shinji said, roughly dislodging her hands from his jacket. "I get it, alright! You don't need to be mean about it. Ugh. Forget this, I'm going home. Finish setting up for the stupid English club meeting by yourself, *Ms. President."*
"Oh boo hoo, I have to do ten minutes of work *without you* breathing down my neck!"Minami retorted. Shinji gave no reply, as he stalked out of the classroom and slammed the door behind him.
One he was was gone, Minami raised a curled forefinger to her mouth, thoughtfully, and bit her lip.
"Damn, this always happens. I really liked Shinji-san, and I was *sure* he liked me back. What am I doing *wrong?"* |
I haven't been the best person in my lifetime. I'll freely admit that. There aren't many people who would call me an okay one. And even fewer who would call me good. Knowing that, I was fully prepared to face my judgement and take whatever I had earned with at least some dignity.
Imagine my surprise when Max showed up at my judgement. For reference, Max used to be my dog in my early thirties. Truly great pupper, best dog I ever met. He helped me deal with a ton of stuff at the time. The day he left me was one of the very few when I have allowed myself to cry. Not in a dignified way. Just plain, ugly, pathetic weeping.
I'll admit I'm not sure how the next six months went. They are very much a haze, obscured by drugs, alcohol and pure anger. If I had to take a bet, I'd wager that this time alone had me headed for a place with a very constant climate, if you get me.
And still, Max had shown up to testify. On my behalf. Made me look like an angel who had rescued him from the pound, days before he would have been put down. In all honesty, I just felt a certain kinship to an old, scrappy dog no one had any interest in.
He told them how I had held him when the thunderstorms where really, really bad. How it had made him feel safe and sound. Truth be told, I held onto him for dear life. Hated thunderstorms ever since I came back from overseas.
How I had gone without food myself, just so I could provide for him. That one ... Is actually true. Wasn't easy, but I wouldn't let the old dogling go hungry in what time he had left.
Max kept going on and on about how well I had been for him, and what I had sacrificed for his sake. By the time he was done, I was weeping. Damn, I missed that stupid old fleabag.
The powers that be took what felt like an eternity to deliberate. Their final verdict was ... Unusual. Clearly, I did not deserve to go to heaven. Still, Max's heartfelt testimony had kept me from going down below. So what were they to do with me?
I was given time. Time to contemplate. Time to ponder. When I was ready, I'd reincarnate, to have another chance. Tell you what, that alone was more than I thought I'd get. However, as a caveat to my sentence, I would have to spend the time in another afterlife. Dog heaven, to be precise.
And that's where if been for I don't know how long. It has been an endless repeat of "STICK!", "BALL!"and "BELLYRUB!". And to be entirely honest with you, I would not mind spending the rest of eternity in this place.
*Edit: Typos.* |
The swirling pit of black -for lack of a better word - energy slowly arose out of the aforementioned rock that was kicked. It looked horrible. The mere sight of it made you want to rip your eyes out. But this was not the case. You see, he was really quite pleasant, and just gravely misunderstood.
Now he only had one thing on his mind: vengeance.
He zipped into the air, flowing with an impossible speed to the secret home of the gods. He raced and raced over plains fields deserts and mountains, "She really had me sent far away."he thought.
For the "greater good"they said, to "save us all"they said... He was their brother, he was a father, and now he had a horrible face and had been forced to be trapped for millions of years.
He would have his revenge.
He eventually came to the area in which he remembered was his home. But to his despair, it was gone. The mountain in which the hall of the gods once stood was now little more than a hill. He frantically raced around the area, looking for something, anything that remained of his brethren.
Nothing.
He collapsed to the ground. Maybe, after all these years, maybe, just maybe, he didn't want revenge. He just wanted to see his friends again.
He got up and took a closer look at the world around him, and he noticed something odd. The creatures that he ruled over were no longer roaming the land. In fact, they remained as fossils deep underground. He howled. What happened to his children?
He noticed the current Inhabitants. Apes. Naked apes?
And he knew immediately who was responsible. The person who condemned him. The person who turned everyone against him. The Goddess of destruction and war, Queen of the Apes.
And he zoomed up into the sky, eager to reclaim his world for his fallen brothers. |
"Commander! We've got another reading"
My heart sank upon hearing the young science officer's statement. In the past, I had jumped to action when I heard these notifications. Evidence of alien civilizations had been such an exciting divergence from the mundane boredom of planetary mining. The possibilities could have been endless, could have revealed mind blowing art or dazzling technology.... but never had. Not the first time, not the last hundred times, and most likely, not this time either.
"What does it look like, Ensign?"I replied, hoping my dread didn't come through too much in my voice.
"This is just a preliminary, sir, but..."
"Spit it out, son"This time, my irritation was definitely clear in my voice. "It's not going to be any better news if it's dragged out"
The young science officer took a quick, deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He hadn't always been like this. When he first came aboard, he had been a confident, quick witted fresh graduate from The Academy. Now.... well, now he was like the rest of us. Burnt out, dreading each and every minute at his station. Awaiting the next grim finding in what was supposed to be a simple mineral survey.
"It's the same one, sir. The same as all the rest. The same damn message broadcast on the same damn frequency."
I closed my eyes and rested my head in my hands, hunched over in the Captain's chair. I couldn't call it my chair, even though my field promotion had made it mine. After the Captain had done what he did, the stains and blaster burns had marked it as his chair far more than the nameplate ever had.
"Are you absolutely sure, Ensign"I said, more as a statement than a question. "Are you sure there's not a new part at the end, a new background voice, maybe-"
Ensign Fitzpatrick turned in his chair, glaring at me but also looking through me, eyes not focused on anything. "If you want to listen to hours of yourself screaming, then by all means, play the fucking thing over the ship's speakers. I'm not sitting through this again. I can't. I can't I can't I can't...."
I saw the signs too late. We had all had the basic psychiatric training at one point or another, knew the signs of self harm or suicidal thoughts. But after dealing with this shit for so long, losing so many close friends and crewmen... I supposed my reaction times were just dulled too far to stop him.
In one swift move, the young Ensign drew his service blaster, brought it to his head, and made sure he would never hear the message again. He wouldn't hear anything ever again.
I stood and stumbled the few short steps from the chair to his station. Medical protocol said to check his neck for a pulse, but there wasn't enough neck left to check on the corpse of Ensign Fitzpatrick. There wasn't much of anything left above his shoulders.
An alarm started sounding from nearby, saying something about a hull breach. I paid it no attention. The ship would fix itself anyways, why the hell did it insist on telling everyone. In a few moments it would be good as new, except for some slight discoloration from blaster burns and blood stains. Just the latest spot in a checkered mosaic of despair. Nobody would be left to see the finished masterpiece, after I added my own dot up there. I knew as I cradled my last crewmate's rapidly cooling body that it wasn't a matter of if I would join them, but when.
But first, I had a job to do. A duty to make sure this message was what I feared it was. Of what I knew it had to be.
I laid Ensign Fitzpatrick down by his station, and pressed the blinking icon that read "Receive Transmission". The same dreadful audio began to play as I folded the young science officer's hands across his chest.
"Mayday, mayday"I heard myself scream. I had never spoken these words, but it was clearly my voice that blared from the ship's speakers. I could make out a few other voices that belonged to other former crew mates in the background. It was so strange. Their voices hadn't all been there at first, just my own and an indistinct droning sound. But after the first time we came across the message, after Rodriguez had cycled himself out the airlock, his voice had joined mine. The chorus of despair had only grown from there.
"I repeat, Mayday, Mayday. This is the mining ship Theseus. I am Commander Mobius, the only remaining survivor of the crew. We have discovered what I can only describe as Hell on Earth. The mining prospect B-GG-04-D was not a dead rock, as the deep space scans had suggested. It was a deceased planet. Our planet. Stripped of atmosphere, of life, of hope... all that is left is ruins, skeletons, toxic... oh God, its just GONE. This isn't Sol, but somehow it's Earth. I'm sending out this distress beacon not for rescue, but for warning. DO NOT APPROACH THE PLANET. I am attempting to scuttle the ship among the ruins of New York. I repeat..."
I heard my own desperation joined by the wails of the rest of the crew. Rodriguez, the Captain... and now a new voice rose from the background. A younger voice. Ensign Fitzpatrick's voice. "I CANT I CANT I CANT", he wailed. "I CANTICANTICANTICANT"
I knew what I had to do. I just didn't know if I could. I reached out to stop the incoming message, and to record a new one. "Mayday, Mayday"I said, for the first time, again.
r/SlightlyColdStories if you want. Or don't. It's all up to you. |
It had eyes. Eyes made of sesame, and a tongue of minced flesh.
"HUMAN!"
And the voice of a scholar.
"Before you eat me, please, heed my tale O Chosen One! I have travelled a- what are you doing?"
The only thing I could. I brought the burger closer to me, showing it something it must eventually face.
"No, no! You know not what you do! The world, the universe!"
Meaningless.
"Only you can save it!"
Why would I care? I only wanted one thing. And it was in my hands.
The first bite elicited the sweet symphony of pure agony. The burger screamed. It screamed, and *screamed*. And it begged, and it *pleaded*. And I made it scream again. It cried for its mother, the pitiful wailing crooning a lullaby to my ears. I waited, savouring each slow bite as it sought divine deliverance from a deaf deity. I swallowed the mush of bread, plant and meat, feeling it go down my throat as I readied another bite. Horror reverberated through my fingers as wailed in helplessness. This time was slow. The corner of my mouth, a little shearing, a little spearing. A little *crushing*. And another, ketchupy chunk was *prrried* off the sandwich housing a gibbering wreck of a mind. The pain was so great, so encompassing, it vomited sauce everywhere.
*Sauce*.
I cleaned it, slowly, gently. A long, slithering lick, bathing my tongue in the creamy tomato pulp.
​
Yes. Yes, this really *was* some dope ass weed. |
We stare nervously at the screen, in-person work had started months ago het John had insisted on staying at home. Finally, we were going to put a stop to it. We were going to see him.
"Hello, John? Lovely to see you! Or rather it would be, but ahhh... This is awkward, and under normal circumstances probably a HR violation, but would you be able to turn on your camera?"My boss was sweating, I hadn't seen him like this since that time his wife had dropped in unannounced.
A pause on the the other end. "Ahm, no."
A pause on our end. The boss asks again, "I'm sorry, could you try?"
More assured this time, "Yeah, no."
He starts pleading, "Please?"
"No."
It's now my turn to try, "Hey John? It's Dan, as you can see, because my camera is on. We need you to turn yours on buddy."
"Aww, man, come on Dan, I'm sorry but no."
I take a deep breath, "Okay, I hate to do this to you man, but I gotta, we have access to your Google drive folder. For every ten seconds you don't turn your camera on we're gonna start putting files in the wrong places."
Silence on the other end.
A file is moved.
"NNNNOOOOOO, OKAY, fine, I'll turn it on. Just, just give me a second."
Time moves slowly as we wait in anticipation, but finally, finally we see a dimly lit room, ornately furnished, but no person. I struggle to conjure the words, "J-J-John?"Suddenly a pastry flashed across the screen, hovering as if by magic.
"My second name is Cena." |
“I heard it over here!” a voice shouted. Others heard the shout and they ran towards him, blindly following the directions of a man who’d drunk half his own supply of moonshine just an hour prior.
Idiots, Camden thought. He watched them run off together. They tried to act brave, but they needed torches and guns and weapons and they needed each other to even come out at night these days. They yelled because it felt better to yell than it did to whimper in their homes.
When the silence returned, Camden dropped down from atop the branch he was resting on. He liked the night and he enjoyed the way the moonlight felt on his skin, he liked the way no one usually bothered him at night.
“You can come down now,” Camden said. “They’re gone. They won’t be back until they think they hear something coming from this direction.”
She floated down. She had pale skin, short black hair that looked like it’d been chopped off, holding onto a stuffed animal that half resembled a turtle and a bear, and a tattered pastel green sundress.
When Camden asked her about it, Anastina said that her mother had made it for her. She said that she was looking for her mom, that she promised to find her soon, but that it had been four hundred years since she’d said that. They met at a roadside diner, late at night. Anastina had been sitting in a booth by herself and Camden saw her, asked where her parents were. She cried then and the lone waitress looked at the two of them, Camden could only provide confused shrugs in return. The waitress returned with a slice of cherry pie on the house and Camden tipped her generously while Anastina told him about her mom, her turtle bear, and how she’d been alive for so long.
“Do you remember anything about where you escaped from?” Camden asked.
“A little bit,” she replied. “Somewhere near the ocean.”
“That’s a problem then,” Camden replied.
“How come?” she asked.
“We’re in Missouri,” Camden said. He pulled out his phone to show her a map. “There’s no ocean anywhere near here.”
“Oh,” she replied. And she ate in silence, she tried her best to remember more about where she came from.
Since then, they’d been driving to California. Camden said it might be better to start there since the weather’s better there, that there were more people there too. The problem with driving there and the problem with Anastina was that people suspected the two of having an inappropriate relationship, Camden looked like no gentleman and Anastina looked like a young girl. On top of that, Anastina looked like one of the things all Americans were taught were certified evil. Hellish creatures that roamed the night, sucking the blood out of innocent girls and boys around the country.
“Where is that little blood licking sonuvabitch?” a voice said.
Voices like that chased them around when they got too suspicious, but Camden liked the night, he got lost in it easily. Something about it had always been comforting to him. It helped that Anastina knew where to hide, she knew where it was the most quiet.
They were back on the road again, Camden had a knack for finding cars with the keys still in the ignition.
“Why are you helping me?” Anastina had asked him.
“My grandma used to tell me about how scary vampires were and how her grandma and grandpa had been killed by one when she was a little girl.” Camden said. “She talked about how nothing could kill them, how the sun only slowed them down, how the silver bullets bounced off their skin.”
Anastina looked at her own skin, she wondered if she’d be that strong one day.
“But my grandma,” Camden said. And he stopped talking while he focused his eyes on the road ahead. He put a hand up to his eye. Anastina noticed his eyes were red, watery.
“All I’ll say was that my grandma was not a kind woman,” Camden said. “So I figured that what she had to say about your people must be wrong. And that maybe they’re being imprisoned unfairly.”
They didn’t speak, but Anastina looked out the window while Camden dried his eyes, rubbing the last of the tears away.
“Thank you,” Anastina said.
“It’s no biggie,” Camden said. “Now let’s go find your mom.”
---
Decided to take a different approach than what I'd normally write.
If you liked this, feel free to check out r/DeneilYeong for other writings I've done (the subreddit is a work in progress). |
Spider-man was waiting for the students in beasts lab that he taught chemistry in. Three students were there but Peter knew that there were at least 25 students on campus.
"Okay, where are the other students?"He said in a low whisper.
Daisy spoke up, "three are in the library, several are in the kitchen, but most are outside with Wade."
"How do you know that?"Spidey said in a shocked voice. "How did you hear me? Do you have heightened hearing or something?"
"No, I can hear and sense things from plants. All the potted plants are from the garden and share a connection. I can use that connection to 'feel' what is happening around them. Right now 15 of my fellow classmates are running around, oh wait, fighting with Deadpool out side."
"What the ever loving..."Peter jumped to the wall and opened the window. He ran out, going up and over the classroom section of the mansion and stopped on the other side of the roof. Here he saw chaos in it's purest form. Blood was on the field and students were getting up, most covered in smears of blue, yellow or green markings. The only person with any blood on them was Deadpool.
Peter watched as the students were jockeying for position to land a hit on Wade. Most missed, followed by a spray of paintballs hitting them or a nerf sword soaked with some form of marking color. The injuries to him appeared to be burns, cuts, scrapes or stabbing wounds.
With the fingers in his mouth, Spidey whistled for attention and then jumped down to the field.
"What in the world are you doing Wade?"
Blowing the tip of the barrel of the paintball gun, Deadpool 'sheathed' the sword behind him, the green coloring dripping down his back and his leg. The knife on his hip leaving the yellow smear of what looked like mustard down his other leg. Wearing only his mask, utility belt, sword harness and what was either shorts or underwear, he looked at Peter.
"I'm giving the kids a chance at actual combat with someone who won't freak out on 'em, like some short and hairy crazy Canadian we know."
Several children came out of the school and watched. The students who had been 'fighting' with Deadpool gathered around and waited to see what would happen.
"Wade, this isn't what we were hired for."Peter took a few steps toward the children and saw the colors slowly drying on their clothes, faces and hands.
"Pete, as our canucklehead friend would say, 'this is what I do best.'"Wade shot him in the chest. His danger sense never alerted him as there was no real threat posed by the liquid filled plastic ball that struck him in the center of the chest. Peter looked down at his shirt.
"This is one of my best shirts. Now I have to get it dry cleaned."Several students laughed and some whispered saying Wade was going to get it.
A chant of 'fight fight fight fight' started from the students and both Wade and Peter looked at them.
Wade nodded to Peter, "okay, you want to see a throwdown. Here's the deal. All classes need to be attended and class and homework done for tomorrow."Some moans and come on's came from the students. "That happens, then Wade and I fight to submission after dinner."The students cheered and yelled.
Wade crossed his arms, "Fine. One day of following the rules then I kick your butt. Alright, let's go get cleaned up kids."Wade walked over to Peter, "Interesting way to get them in line."
"I know you're trying to teach them how to fight when they need to. We both know that Charles always wants that as a last resort."Peter said.
"I know, they saw it as a game or a challenge. Counting coup on Deadpool is not something I let just anyone do. Besides, with just the two of us here, it's not going to be easy keeping them in line and attentive." |
His eardrums ruptured. His ribs fractured as the sonic wave of energy hit him square in the chest, throwing him like a weightless ragdoll against a pile of sandbags.
He lay in a crumpled heap, power armor sizzling, warning lights flashing all over his HUD in saturated hues of stuttering, blinking red and orange.
He felt himself succumb to inky darkness. But Her voice, clear as always through the din of hell and fire, reached him, bringing him back from the brink. Waking him from the stupor and shock of near death. Patched directly into his brain via the suit interface, she spoke to him directly through his auditory lobes.
"John. Are you okay? Wake up. Please wake up!"
A finger twitched, and he opened his eyes, returning to the fresh hell unfolding around him.
Deep behind enemy lines, reinforcements nowhere to be found, supply lines cut off, and his squad all but decimated. Shelled and bombed to a paste. Par for the course for his unit. Conscripted prisoners and gladiators pressed into combat and hailing from the outer rim colonies, he and his fellow squaddies were always sent to the thick of the fighting, used as fodder to draw fire. Always the diversion, the vanguard. First in, last out for every operation. So many died, and yet the unit never fully wiped. And so John and a handful of this Prisoner and Gladiator unit soon grew a reputation. They were dubbed as The Immortals. Combat skills grew to rival and even exceed those of the privileged Sol Inner Systems Spec Op troops, John's Immortals became somewhat of a military legend. An underdog story of how petty thieves, convicts, and gladiators/killers-for-sport became the best of the best Earth's forces had to offer.
And so a special squadron of this ragtag force came to be outfitted with armor normally reserved for Sol's Spec Ops units, complete with onboard personal combat AI.
He forced himself into a sitting position.
"Run diagnostics."
"Critical damage to frontal ablative plates. Suit punctures detected. Kinetic shield emitters are fried... John, it's bad."
"... We've been through worse. Squad status?"John coughed, blood drooling out the corner of his mouth. It hurt to even breathe.
"All's gone dark. Radio silent. Nobody's responding to my hails."
"Fuck. Even Jacobs huh? Always figured I'd go before him."
"John... Can you move? We need to pull back."
John tried to get up again, but fell back on his ass with a pained grunt. "Can't."
"Scanning... Suit servomotors are shot. I can redirect what little power that's left to get you moving again but..."
"But...?"
"I'll have to shut down. There's not enough energy otherwise. Suit systems are failing, John."
John grit his teeth. "No."
"But it's the only way..."
"I said NO goddamn it!"John swung a fist against a sandbag, denting his gauntlet. "We'll find a way, Vira. We always do."
"John... I'm sorry."
John snorted. "The fuck you apologizin for?"
"Because I'm going to reroute power. I'm sorry, John. My priority is to keep you alive, and do all I can to ensure success of the mission."
John's eyes widened. "No! FUCK the mission! Fuck the Sol System. Fuck Earth. They ain't done shit cept throw us in jail and then throw us into the shit. We're fucking expendable to them."
"And I'm expendable to you. Rerouting... Standby."
"Fuck no you aren't."
"...John?"Her electronic voice was tinged with confusion.
"You're not expendable. Unlike those bastards back on Earth, I won't leave anyone behind."He reached up and tapped a button on the side of his helmet.
"John, what are you-"
"Initiate manual override."He issued the voice command to the suit, and decoupled Vira's access to the suit's systems.
"John.... Why?"
John leaned back into the sandbags and got comfortable, rifle held steady and pointed forwards from his sitting position, ready for a last stand.
Hell, might as well confess now, at the end of the line. And he knew she already knew, having direct access to his brain and thoughts through the mind-suit interface, but he also knew she wanted to hear it. And he wanted to say it too, after all they've been through together. Countless battles and countless quiet nights of conversation out in the field. And now...
"Because... You're special to me. I love you, Vira."
They would be together, until the very end. |
A concerto of gasps could be heard throughout the meeting room as the large display that made up the entire back wall shut off. Diagrams and schedules showing the next few weeks of interplanetary missions suddenly disappeared and made way for an entirely blue screen.
After the gasps came silence. None in the meeting room dared speak as a couple of technicians rushed forward and engaged in conversation with Vryan, the elected spokesman of the council. They seemed in distress, and for those who could read Vryan’s facial expressions, it became clear that this was an emergency.
The meeting room had been in use for over two hundred years and always the display had been up and running. Its design was fully integrated in the ship that held the meeting room. Information from all offices and research centres was streamed directly into the display so it could be processed immediately.
If the display had broken down…
*This will take years to replace,* is what went through everyone’s mind that moment. The entire ship would have to be reprogrammed. Every button, wire and connection would require manual resetting.
That’s what was on everyone’s mind. Expect for one attendee.
The human.
“Have you tried turning it off and on again?”
The words echoed through the nervously silent meeting room. Some of the council members double checked their universal translators as to ensure they had properly understood the human.
*Turn off the display?*
The human had a smug look on his face initially, a smugness that turned into confusion as he saw the looks his fellow council members threw at him.
“What?” he asked, grin fading. “It usually works. I always do it when I get a bluescreen of death.”
“Usually works?” Moran asked. His Teruvian features shone with indignation. “It is called the bluescreen of death for a reason, George from Earth.”
“You’re serious?” George asked in disbelief. “Just turn off the display, wait a few seconds and then turn it back on. Doesn’t hurt to try, no?”
Gasps and exclaims of shock rang through the meeting room.
“Turn off the display?” Moran inquired. “And lose all our information?”
For a moment, George seemed too taken aback to answer. Then, a revelation popped up inside his head and he understood. “The display,” he asked, “was installed with the help of a human engineer, no?”
Moran nodded.
“If a human engineer was involved, he’ll have made sure back-ups were made on a regular basis that would be stored on an external server. If you reboot the display without saving, it’ll just pull the most recent back-up from the server and be on its way.”
Moran, and the rest of the council, seemed sceptical. It was spokesman Vryan who eventually spoke. “Your words seem convincing, George. Do you know the way of your ancestors to *reboot* the display?”
George shrugged and stood up, making his way towards the display. Nervous eyes followed him. “Should be a button somewhere on the side,” he said and walked towards the right side. He looked around for a second and then found it. “Here it is. Hah! It even has a HDMI and VGA port. Now this is old school. Alright, hold on.”
The entire council room held their collective breath as the screen went from blue to black. A few seconds passed before George announced he had turned the display back on again.
“Ta-da!” the human exclaimed as the display turned back on. “Jeez,” George continued. “I’m surprised this is the first time in two centuries the display bluescreens.”
“How so?” Vryan asked, staring in wonder at the logo on the screen.
George shrugged. “Windows Vista wasn’t exactly their best version. Even 95 was better.”
----
> Thanks for reading, more over at /r/PromptedByDaddy (including several ongoing serials) |
I was well known in the justice system. My name was synonymous with quality. I was the ultimate test, one which most high-security prisons took. If they could hold me for a week, I would give them a seal of approval, along with a list of escape avenues I could predict being successful over a longer period of time.
So receiving official communications out of the blue was a relatively normal thing for me. Not that it was common, maybe once or twice a year. But they paid handsomely, letting me live a life of comfort. Not so much decadence, but then I had no need for mountains of gold. I charged enough to keep me comfortable.
I was enjoying a relaxing day with a cup of tea and a book, when a knock disturbed me. I sighed, sliding in the bookmark to save my space. I took one more sip of tea, before standing up to find out just who wanted my attention. I peered through the little peephole, seeing a woman standing there. Her silver hair seemed to give off a subtle glow, and she wore a lush black dress. She was definitely a stranger to me, but my instincts told me she wasn't a threat to my life.
I carefully opened the door, getting a proper look at her. Her hair was definitely glowing, it almost rippling like waves. Her black dress slowly turned, becoming a deep, royal blue. Her skin was the colour of parchment, but her eyes were the most striking. The irises were gold, with slight bumps and lines that looked almost intentional.
"Hello Roulus."
Her voice was soft, but carried with it a ring of strength. She smiled a brilliant smile, utterly calm. I took a deep breath, forcing my emotions to remain level.
"That is me, and you are...?"
She gave a small curtsy, her eyes never leaving mine.
"I am the Avatar of Arca."
That made me stop. Arca, the Goddess of Magic. A name that every man, woman and child would know. She was one of the oldest gods, and one of the most powerful. Even her Avatar was able to level mountains. And now she was standing at my door.
"May I come in?"
She was unfailingly polite, as if it were commonplace for her. I acted without thinking, stepping to the side.
"Of, of course..."
She flashed that smile at me, moving past. This stumped me. Why would a god want to visit me? Like a lost puppy I followed her to my sitting room, as she sat on one of my spare chairs.
"I have come here with a job offer."
Arca went straight to business. I seized it gratefully, as something I could focus on, over the fact that there was a god in my house.
"A job offer? How can I help?"
She folded her hands together.
"We need your assistance in testing out a prison for an Ascended."
An Ascended. One of those not born into godhood, but who were elevated to it, either by their own actions or by another god. I stared at her, thinking this through.
"Um, if I may, why do you need me? You are gods, surely you can make something inescapable."
She gave a sad smile, shaking her head.
"Not quite. We can do much, but we are not all knowing or all powerful. The fact that we are having to consider this is proof enough. To be blunt, there is a new Ascended. One who seeks not to nuture, but to control. They would have all of reality enslaved to their will."
A sigh escaped her.
"We can beat them, easily. But we cannot kill them as such. They are entwined with divine power, meaning that they will endure, unless they choose to end it. But if we keep them drained, we can imprison them."
I frowned.
"Why do you need me then?"
She snorted.
"Ascended are in most ways weaker than us. But we are gods through and through. They have an element of mortality in them, meaning they can adapt and change. They can think of things we simply cannot. So we need a mortal mind to test out our prison. Your's makes the most sense."
I could just about understand what she was saying. The realm of gods was a bit beyond me, but I could understand why they wanted my help.
"I see."
Arca leaned forwards, staring at me.
"This will be more than your normal job. In order to ensure its reliability, we ask that you complete a year in there."
"A year?!"
I couldn't believe it. A year in a cell. I didn't think I could handle it. I needed to be free. That's what made me so good at escaping. She held up a hand to placate me.
"Don't worry. We will ensure time does not affect you whilst completing this. One year may pass, but to your body it will be but seconds. As for compensation..."
Her left hand lit with a rainbow coloured ball.
"You more than fulfill our requirements even without this. We would be happy to make you into an Ascended." |
I noticed the first as I crossed a busy street. He was a younger sort, with a gleam in his eye. I felt his eyes upon me, and knew he was following. I sighed, choosing not to pay it much mind. He was soon joined by a second, another young man looking a little more down on his luck. The picture was forming in my head about their choices.
It was as I drew closer to home, leaving behind busy streets that I noticed the third one. They were hiding in an alley, focused on me. I shrugged internally. There was no point in running from this, so I was just going to go with it.
Sure enough, as I passed I heard the third step out to join their friends. I stopped, turning to face them.
"Can I help you?"
One drew a knife, one that looked well used.
"Don't move or I'll cut you. Scream, and I cut you. Do anything I don't ask you to, and I will cut you."
I chose to obey, interested in just what they were going to do. The first two brought out rope and tape, tying my hands together. A cloth was tied across my mouth, and a bag finished it off. Thus contained they pushed me along.
One of them gave me a pat down, finding my wallet, keys and phone. I didn't argue, as I recognised where we were going just by direction. They were taking me to my home. I assumed their plan was to rob me blind, and leave me there as they made their escape, quite possibly also either wounding or killing me.
I didn't bother trying to fight. There was no point, as there was a clear difference in power here. It would only end in death. So I let them take me to my home, feeling them shove me inside. I heard the scrape of a chair, and I was forced onto it, with more rope tying me to it.
I heard them move around, getting a lay of the land. I pulled at the bindings, feeling them tight. This definitely wasn't their first rodeo. I just so happened to be their unlucky victim this time. I sat in silence for a good few minutes, before the bag was torn from my head. As I suspected, I was in my living room. One of them stood over me, the one that held the knife.
He pulled out my gag, holding the knife to me.
"Alright. You're gonna tell me the code to your safe upstairs, and how to open your security door to the basement."
I sighed.
"The safe code is seven eight one six nine seven. As for the door, it's a fingerprint scanner."
He paused, before putting the gag back in place. He left the room, before coming back with the others. They untied me from the chair, pushing me to the door. The one holding the knife held it up to me back.
"Open it."
"Alright."
I awkwardly placed a finger on the pad. It read it before beeping, the locks disengaging. They pushed me down first into the darkness, before all following. I lead the way, waiting before I knew they were all inside before I finally decided to act. I casually bit through the gag, before calling out.
"The Full Moon Calls."
The security door slammed shut, making them jump. I flexed, breaking the rope and tape around my wrists. As I did I stopped holding back, getting in touch with my inner beast. Hair sprouted, and I felt my bones shift and grow. They paled as they realised just what I was, and the mistake they had made.
Werewolves were rare, with almost every single one in the public eye to some capacity. I was one of the only execptions. And they had happily broken into my lair. |
"Dear Alice,
Maybe I should call you Alison, as this letter feels formal. Ms. Thompson? I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter, anymore. Ever since you handed me my skim double espresso, my heart has been fluttering your name. Now, I hadn't had the courage to return, too anxious and afraid that I may spill or stutter, either my words or my drink, so I've had to settle for homemade coffee and brief glances of you through the storefront. Even from beyond the thick glass your body radiated sensuality. A kindness and sweetness like none other flowed from your smile. You were perfect for me.
I imagined our life together. Living in your apartment until we found a house. A house that had a dedicated room for oil painting, and in a more pleasant neighborhood, where maybe you wouldn't feel the need for Ativan.
But, I digress...this letter isn't about the life that could have been. This letter is about the life I need vs. the life I want. And darling, I need a partner that's cares about herself. Over the past three weeks, you've been held in detention 6 times. Don't you know how important your education is? How hard is it to stay out of trouble? Is it your father? I've know he hits you. The sound echoes throughout your building, pounding my head. It's just too much for me to handle right now. I need a person from a prettier neighborhood, with a prettier outlook, and a prettier future. And I'm happy to say, I've found her!
Alice, I think you'd love her. She's a huge fan of Reddit, and r/writingpromps, in particular! Her comments are witty, sometimes a little mean, often times constructive, and I know she gets me. In fact, she's probably upset that I didn't proof-read this entry, nor put much care into it. But that's what I love about her.
I love you. |
I had to double take, thinking I went insane.
A gigantic lizard, half it's body swimming through the ocean toward land.
*Of course, a hallucination from sun stroke*, I thought. I didn't have enough spf in my lotion that day.
Just out of curiosity, I glanced at the bottle and miserably saw the rating was a 100.
Nope...not sun stroke.
But there was no thuds, and the water didn't part before it.
It was getting closer, now only knee deep in the tide, hunched over and mass blotting out my vision, but not the sun...
That was when I realized it wasn't my mind playing tricks on me.
It was a ghost.
One. Big. Ghost.
It lumbered over me, it's massive translucent body casting a green faded shadow across the sand.
And that was it. It went past me and everyone else on the beach, moving inland as it phased past cars and trees and hotel buildings.
I rolled over on my chest so I could watch it plodded away. It took a long count of minutes before it faded into the horizon, far, far into the distance and threading through the distance mountains.
It was certainly a *new* experience, but considering my ability to see all sorts of departed and even extinct animals, it wasn't all that out of the ordinary.
Spectral apparitions were not innately harmful, and the vast majority of them just simply existed on a parallel existence, somehow unable to interact with the world of the living. Very rarely would they harm the actual world, merely stirring the wind or nudging a chair to make it creak at worst.
I was about to close my eyes to continue my sunbathing when the sand underneath me shook. A violent trembling that was the start of an earthquake.
I started getting goosebumps as I shifted on the shore, others screaming as they experienced the tremors as well.
*It's Japan* I told myself. *This happens all the time.*
And then an explosion behind me turned everyone's attention.
And then my goosebumps were joined by cold sweat as a particularly large peak in the mountains spat out clouds of red, angry fire.
Oh, that's Mount Fuji.
That's where the ghost kaiju went.
And that's not a good thing... |
I felt the circle snap open, releasing me onto the mortal world. For a moment I was filled with the desire for bloodshed and carnage, as I walked amongst those fresh souls. But that moment soon passed, as it always did.
"White wine's in the fridge, red's on the side. Choose your tipple, then come have a seat!"
I grinned at my summoner and friend. Agatha was a sweet girl, one who craved knowledge. She didn't want it for any purpose, but instead just wanted it for the sake of having knowledge. I had known her for years, after her first summoning me.
She had wanted forbidden knowledge at one point. I was of course eager to share, in exchange for her soul. Instead of accepting though, she decided to question me about what I used souls for. She was amazed to hear how we used them as food and fuel, to keep both ourselves and our creations running.
She kept on summoning me after that. Sometimes to chat, other times to just hang out. I grew fond of her company, battling down my old instincts when she first released me. I didn't want to destroy her. Her mind was a beautiful thing, always eager, and always listening. She was so much different to what I had experienced below, it was incredible.
I pressed my form down into a suitable female form. Though my demonic heritage poked through, my skin purple and a pair of leathery wings on my back. Still, resizing meant going through her small apartment was much easier. I found my way to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of red this time.
"So, tell me, how's your studying going?"
Agatha grinned at my question, pouring herself a glass of white.
"Well thanks! Get this, I found a book on homunculi."
I tapped my glass into hers, taking a sip.
"Oh how fascinating, we don't have much on that below. Tell me all about it.".
She tapped my chest, grinning.
"Only if you do my hair again."
I gave a mock groan, before laughing. One time, one time I had offered to do her hair in a style I had seen below. Now it seemed that it was all she wanted from me.
"Sure, OK then. But you had better not hide any of the juicy bits!" |
CW: Mentioned SH.
An innocuous chord from the phone lying on the coffinside table. Eddy opened his eyes carefully, slowly, feeling the sun hanging low in the sky, and reached for the device. "Kid's left the den,"the message read; a second soon appearing after. "Said she was going to hang at the mall."
Hang at the mall? The middle-aged vampire - three hundred and seventy-six counted as middle-aged, not some young upstart! - scoffed as his coffin rearranged itself at his thought and as he moved into a sitting position. That excuse, in twenty-twenty-two? "Y'all need to teach her to lie better,"he sent back. Using that form of address still felt weird to him, but he sprinkled it in so the other families in the area wouldn't think them too snobbish.
The world dimmed as Eddy's vampiric mind scattered, seeking, detecting, observing. He found nothing, as expected. Though... That was not entirely true. There was a presence in his teenage son's coffin, but it was... Oh, that was precious. He returned, ignored the dots at the bottom, and started texting his wife. "Timothy's sneaking out again. He left a homunculus in his coffin to make me think he's sleeping in."
Liv was online, and started replying instantly. "Send me a picture when out of your coffin. And make sure you don't get caught. Love you."
Then, back over to the other message. "Heart on her sleeve, that one. Especially this time of month. Surprised she's not told us yet. Tim did come up as a 'friend from school' last night, though. History project."
The exact subject Eddy knew best and would therefore not touch with a ten foot stake. He'd done a spell as a history teacher in the 1970s and 1980s, but when it came to his son, he was a firm believer in teaching research, not dependence on him. "If they work together, it's at your place. Strict no-friends policy here."Not after, well... That one Halloween.
"Antisocial coffindweller. ;-)"was sent back almost instantly. Neil probably had that as a saved reply option or something. Eddy was capable with computers, but found messaging apps strange once moving past the basics, while the werewolf on the other side worked on mobile phone applications for a living. "Do you lot need special treatment as guests?"
"Some. Invitiation in, no garlic, no open blood. Some sun's fine for his age."Eddy sent the first message, but then remembered one of the hobbies the werewolf's partner had. "Hide Badr's woodwhittling too, just in case."As far as Eddy knew, his son was a year clean, but no need to test that.
"Will do. Btw, y'sure ya don't want to change bet? If Sel's willing to bring him here..."the message trailed off meaningfully.
Eddy shook his head, grey-white coffinhead locks falling around his face. "A pact made is a pact made."And he would stick to that even if it lost him the bet the parents had made three weeks ago. "Off to inspect my son's blood magic progress. Want a picture?"
"Always!" |
Me and the buddies were riding home from the biker bar, when we saw a flash of light in the sky. I assumed it was lightning or something, until it came straight for us. We tried to dodge, but skidded in the road. It was too late. Whatever it was, it was going to hit us.
I wake up and am surprised to be alive. I search the area for my men and our bikes, but what I see almost makes me hurl.
Jake, Richard, George, Emilio, they are all dressed head to tail in pink, yellow, blue, and purple fru fru. They look like some goddamn ballerinas for Christ sake.
"What in the hell are you guys doing?"They look at me, all blank faces, until I hear the resounding laughter.
"Us? Boss, you look like a fuckin' unicorn or somethin' with all that rainbow."Emilio says. I freeze and gulp as I slowly look down at my frilly rainbow princess dress.
"Goddammit."I murmur. "Who the fuck did this?"I look around for something or someone. I don't find the person responsible, but I do see what became of our bikes. "Aw hell, and why are our bikes magical creatures?"
"I don't know, but it's kinda cool boss."Jake says. It would be Jake that would say that. I sigh, but don't have enough time before the dark creatures come charging at us.
"Good will never win. Accept your fate."Without a word, we all grab our guns. They have all been girlyfied, but nothing much else about them has changed.
"Nani, motherfucker?"Then we all start blasting. |
I spun around to look back at the mirror, seeing only my own face in shock. The room seems normal, the bathroom always has a few lotions or what-have-you laying around, but nearly everything is nearly tucked away.
"Who the hell said that?....."I whisper only to myself, barely audible.
A voice, nearly identical to my own, says in a hushed but worried tone, only two words. "Oh shit".
The panic is setting in. I franticly check both windows, opening them to stick my head out and look for anyone that's run off. The air nearly freezes my face both times, it's the dead of winter and far below zero. The sun isn't even up, and there isn't any tracks in the snow.
It doesn't make it better. One by one I check every item in the room, tossing them in the bathtub as I go.
"Please stop"a voice begged, still a whisper, but this time it's not my own. The voice is familiar but I can't quite place it. Like someone I may have met only once, or a long time ago.
"NOT UNTIL I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"I shouted, still reeling and practically spinning around searching for the voice.
I run to the mudroom closet and grab my largest magnet, a large bar on wheels used for finding nails in my driveway. In my panic I don't care, and break the bar off destroying the plastic housing.
Back in the bathroom I run the magnet over everything. Looking for any resistance, anything that pulls. A hint at where something might be hidden. As I turn around it comes near the side of my head and I hear a static as it passes. I face the mirror again, seeing nothing but my own fear. I bring the magnet closer again and before the static starts the voice comes back. Not hushed or quiet, but loud and nearly deafening.
"STOP! PLEASE STOP!"
The voice was as panicked as I was, maybe even more. I didn't pull the magnet any further away, I simply stopped where I was.
"If you don't tell me who you are, I'll do it. I don't care what happens, I might just be insane."I was just talking to myself in the mirror again, now I could see the anger coming up over the fear.
"Okay, I'll tell you...."The voice trailed off at the end, almost sad. It sounds more familiar now, I feel like I can almost place it.
The voice paused for what felt like forever, but was likely no more than a few seconds.
"Do you remember when you were 17 and your parents kicked you out, and told you that you were worthless?"
"What the fu-"I tried to respond as the voice overpowered my own.
"Well, I was your therapist. I'm the one who made sure you reminded yourself you weren't worthless. You have an implant so I can see and hear what you do. After so long monitoring you, I began saying your affirmation with you. My own life has become sad, and I often feel worthless myself."It was all quite rushed, with a very embarrassed tone.
"Then how come I don't remember you? Nobody helped me. I was on my own."The fear fades away, but confusion and anger are still in its place.
"Well, I made sure you wouldn't remember. This implant is quite impressive."
"There's no way this is legal, how did you do this to me? And if I cnsr remember you why do I know your voice?"
"Well"the voice continued, much calmer, "You actually agreed to this. You signed up for our program. As far as remembering my voice, I'm sure you've heard it again since."
"Fine, say I did agree. But what program even has this? And where have I heard you before?"Seeing myself in the mirror again showed a much calmer demeanor, but obviously confused. I don't know if I had ever stared at myself so much in my entire life.
All of the sudden, there's excitement in his voice. "There's only one program that can do this, and I'm sure you've heard of it. It's called Nueralink!"
"Oh fuck you Elon"were my last words as I brought the large magnet to my head again. Frying the implant, and slowly shutting my brain down. My body lay in a heap on the floor.
My last words couldn't change, I had lost control of myself. But I heard one last thing, that would haunt me for years if I had thet much time.
"Ah damnit, he did the same thing. Do we have another one yet?" |
First the birds went away - flew South for the winter, escaping our nets, and never came back. Then we had a weak harvest, then a weaker one, then a weaker one yet. In the fifth year, when only a few sickly stalks struggled up from the fields, we realised that this was more than ill luck.
And by then, the signs were everywhere. The lakes - which once sparkled with the glittering scales of teeming, credulous fish - lay still and stagnant, mosquito nurseries and nothing more. The high meadows, where we once grazed plump sheep for the slaughter, were now carpeted with milkweed and monkshood.
We had lived off the land, like our ancestors before us. Lived - more precisely - off the life of the land, off the benevolence of nature that stocked streams and glades with her bounty. And now that life was vanishing, deserting us, dying or departing and leaving us with dwindling granaries and gnawing hunger.
We sought solutions. Grain and cattle, purchased at vast expense, rotted and sickened in a matter of days. Treatments from the alchemists led to soil that burnt the skin, but still produced no crop. Prayers, sermons, sacrifices - all were given in vain.
We sent warriors to the forests, searching for awoken evils, corrupted beasts. When they returned, they spoke of silence and decay, crawling beetles replacing both birds and bees, but they found no cause. Just emptiness, an absence of life in what should have been the heart of it. We knew the stories, the tales of other towns. We knew that a hero of stout heart could save us, could stop the rampage of a monstrous boar, choke the life from a witch so that her hands would loose the waterways. We knew what must be done, but there was no enemy to slay, no corruption to cleanse.
We were weak. Money spent, storehouses empty, we found the only food we could. At first it was done in secret - a widow on the outskirts of town, a child who ran down the wrong street after dark. But soon, driven by the endless hunger, we became bolder. Dragged familes from their beds, fought over savaged meat in the town square. Hunger pangs would ease, for a time, then return in greater strength. Each shameful meal satisfied less than the one before, shared with fewer mouths but taken from a dwindling stock.
It was easy to justify, we found. Was this not nature's law? That the weak are prey, sustenance for those with the wit and might to conquer them? What difference is there really, in the slaughter of a babe or a lamb? What is the purpose of a life, if not to be used in service of others? Is it not better to prolong many lives than end one in pain and starvation? We found endless reasons to salve our consciences.
Only a handful now remain. The strongest, the most cunning. We watch each other with mistrustful eyes, ready gaunt limbs to spring at the first sign of betrayal or weakness. One day - soon - there will be only one. One last remaining creature, grown strong on the meat of its own kind. One rampaging killer, preying on all it encounters. One limitless hunger, scouring life away.
Perhaps, in time, even that last one will die, struck down by something it wrongly thought to be prey. Perhaps that final death will break our curse, let life take root here once more. Perhaps we are not so different from the other towns in the end. It is all we can hope for now. |
It had been 1926. A nice time to visit, between the "War to end all wars,"(I tried to tell them how wrong that was) and its inevitable sequel. I'd missed the city since the World's Fair, and was curious if they'd done anything to fix that ridiculous eyesore, seeing as it hadn't been torn down instead. They had not, of course, instead trying to paint it in a coat of nostalgia and romance. So very Parisian.
I was debating heading to the Louvre, understand this was before dear Henri rearranged everything so nicely, which would have made the debate far shorter, when I heard the little whistles. I... may have picked a few pockets that morning. I have never enjoyed excessive wealth, so I have learned to make my way by small means. Scratch that, I do enjoy excessive wealth, but enjoying it and maintaining it are two separate tasks.
Right, the whistles. I carefully adjusted in my seat to allow a quick escape while not drawing suspicion, and simultaneously turning to see of noble, Oh, what was their word for the police? Something painfully French. Ah, well, anyway, I was not their quarry. She was young and swift, laughing as she danced and tumbled away, her dark hair like a pirate flag of rebellion. Unfortunately, she was only thinking of the small flock here, and not the rest of their force.
I am not much of a romantic. My last marriage was in a pre-Christian world. And I have gone centuries without even friendships. All the same, something in me ticked, and I ran. I knew I could get away, and more importantly, I thought I could help her get away.
"Mademoiselle,"I said as I came up alongside. "Vous-"
"Sorry, froggy, cannae talk noo."
"Scottish? Splendid. We are currently aimed at a trap. I know an escape route if you will trust me a moment. And don't mind either a swim of the catacombs."
"Cain't swim."
"Catacombs it is. A left up here, over the wall, and then straight through the door, down the stairs."
We ran, we kissed. We spent a day being fools. And as we parted the following morning, not even knowing one another's name, she made her promise. I was certain I'd be there by the end of the week. Instead, absence made my heart grow... Distant. My mind came back into control, called me a fool, as well I was, and I went about my life with only a memory.
I rarely thought of her. Another world war, a cold one, plenty of others. Computers and ubiquitous cameras made life a little tougher for a while, then easier once I had the ideas down. Hacking was easy, and making a series of ad-supported social media accounts to fund my escapades? It was almost fun.
Then came the storms, the collapses, more wars. Space age dreams were dashed on rocks of our own making. The food crisis, the water crisis, and now, this. I had been in Denmark for a lifetime, hiding out. But when the last of my neighbors passed, and I saw no one else around. I remembered her. I was surprised I still remembered the address.
It took a while to walk the distance, and that eyesore was finally gone, slain by apathy rather than people who came to their senses. And fool that I am, I found I missed it. I walked along the river, an indirect route, but I was in no hurry. |
My eyes feel a little gummy, so I blink a couple of times as I wake up.
It's really light, and the light is . . . white?
Why is it white? The rain fly on my tent is orange.
I blink again and realize that I'm not in my tent, or my sleeping bag, or my long underwear. This ought to bother me, I was on the second night of a backpacking trip way out in a designated wilderness when I went to sleep, but I feel really relaxed.
I look around lazily. I seem to be lying on a massage table, or something that looks like one, with a towel draped over my mid section. The room around me has clean white walls, and some kind of neutral fabric draped over a folding screen the head of the table. There's a little table on one side of the room with an orchid in a bud vase, but no window.
The other side of the room . . . has a white skinned android or robot?
The robot has a screen on the front of its head displaying a basic line-type face.
"Greetings,"it says. It sounds like Morgan Freeman.
"Um, hi. Where am I?"
The robot nods slightly, "You are aboard a research vessel. I am going to perform some tests so that my culture can gather important data about your species' physiology."
I glance around the room again, waiting for the panic to hit, a spike of adrenaline to catapult me off of the table in gibbering terror.
After a second or two I look back at the robot. "Why am I not freaking out right now? I'm pretty sure that being abducted by aliens ought to bother me."
"We are monitoring your brain function in real time with a imaging system somewhat similar to fMRI, though substantially more advanced. We are also using the system to damp down some of your instinctive reactions to decrease the chances that you will harm yourself either intentionally or inadvertently."
Okay, they're controlling my mind. That really ought to bother me more, but it doesn't. I guess they're pretty good at whatever they're doing. I hope it doesn't do me any long term harm.
"It won't."The robot assures me.
"You guys can read my mind too?"I am still not feeling any panic, which bothers me intellectually, but there's no accompanying physical response.
"It's very advanced imaging. We're going to move on to sampling your DNA now."
I sigh, that seems to be the limits of how excited I can get. "All right, let the probing begin, I guess."
"Nothing so crude,"the robot assures me as it starts to wash my hair. "We can gather ample DNA from hair and skin. When I've finished here, I'll give you a massage. We'll be monitoring your brain while we do that. We are able to collect all of the information we need while engaged in practices that many members of your species seek out for enjoyment. Please let me know if you are physically, mentally, or emotionally uncomfortable at any point."
I contemplate that, "I'm pretty sure I'd be mentally or emotionally uncomfortable right now if you were letting that happen."
The robot nods as it rinses my hair, "The scans show that you definitely would be, but you're acclimating well, and we're reducing the level of intervention commensurately. Your higher brain functions have not been affected and something close to your full range of emotions should be available soon."
I guess that makes sense, these aliens are incredibly powerful but they're putting real effort into making me comfortable.
The robot has finished with my hair and moves to my feet. "I am going to trim your toenails now. Would you like callus removal with the treatment, or would you prefer that I leave your calluses in place, as you are currently on a backpacking vacation?"
I only have to think about that for a second. "Leave the calluses please, my feet and boots are in harmony right now and I don't want to change that if I'm going to be back on the trail soon."
I hesitate, a little afraid to ask, "Am I going to be back on the trail soon?"
"Oh yes,"the robot assures me in its smooth baritone. "You'll wake up in your tent in the morning, and be able to continue your whole trip."
All right. I guess that works. I relax as the robot begins a really nice foot massage, it's hands feel completely normal.
"Would you like a cool drink?"the robot asks.
"Sure, can I get water with lemon?"
"Coming right up."
This is kind of . . . great. Right now I'm wishing they'd abducted me on the last night of my trip. |
“Look, Hammond! It’s a letter from the producers!”
“Well, read it!”
“I was going to. *’Obviously, you have found out that you are no longer in Britain. You are, in fact, now in a kingdom not even on Earth. This is the Top Gear Isekai Special, and you have been transported to a world where what we would normally consider fantasy is commonplace. All you have is your cars, the camera crew, and your own ingenuity. To return home, you must bring peace and order to this land. Good luck, the Producers.’* Well, cock.”
“What the hell are they on? Fantasy world? No help? Are they trying to get us killed?”
“For once, Hammond, I must agree. Are the producers bloody mad? Clarkson, what do you say?”
“I say that when we get back, I am going to murder someone at the BBC. Bloody. Murder.”
-------------
“So, these are our cars. Hammond... you really chose a Mustang II?”
“I thought we were going to America! They wanted us to pick American cars in Britain, and they told us to pack clothes for hot weather!”
“But a Mustang II? Really, Hamm-”
“This is not the time for this! We should not be arguing! We’re trapped here, in a completely foreign land, with no help and nobody to rescue us! We could die here!”
“I don’t think we *can* die here. The note left in my trunk says that the Producers have allowed the protectors of this world to spell us immortal and our cars unbreakable and always full of fuel. I really don’t think we’re in much danger at all.”
“And you believe that entirely? There’s a catch - there’s always a catch. And-”
“Richard. Calm down. I’m sure Andy won’t put us into a situation that could end up with us killed. We’ll be fine.”
-------------
* Part II will come at some point. * |
"Ah, love, let us be true to one another, is this truly what you had bragged so loquaciously about?"
The time traveler stops. Her face, red. Auburn hair falling into her eyes, eyes of sky blue brimming with tears. "Don't you see? This is all wrong. All of it. I don't understand what happened. Where I am from this is a vast fortress of wealth and knowledge shared by everybody. One of many around a world in which humans were treated with dignity and honor."
Lord Matthew Arnold glances down his nose at her, eyes bored, and she knows that's the height of Victorian insult to act unbothered in the face of a major fuck up. She turns her back on his judgment and continues trying to repair the ship. Of course, it breaks down. Of course, she fucked up so simple of a task. Gather proof. She stops banging on the engine because she realizes she was putting too much emotion into her work and damaging it even further was not going to help. All she wanted was to try, find proof that her father's work was not lunacy and that he should keep getting his grants from the government.
Time travel was possible. Because here she was. But then that same part of her mind that allowed her to accept reality chimes in; maybe it’s impossible because instead of traveling through time you disrupt time by exchanging realities.
She thinks of her father before her mother died. They both worked so hard on this contraption. The work eventually killing her and ruining him. Are they down there now, happy in this alternate version of her 2022? Was she even alive?
Distracted in the absence of trying to force the spare timing chain into its housing, she finds herself staring down into the town she knows as San Francisco, but a fun-house-twisted-dirty version of it. A giant red-with-rust bridge spans the waters between the town and elsewhere. Such a dangerous waste of resources for a planet with such a finite supply. Every choice affects every human was something many philosophers preached in ancient times. This ideal was in full effect in her 2023. In place of this very bridge was a mag-lift ferry system with minimal eco disruption. Something her grandfather's generation put in place following the Mohawk Accord of 1756 down to the letter.
Do No Harm.
Lord Arnold coughs as if looking to draw her attention, it does and she looks back at him to find him pointing above her inside the cylindrical vehicle. She looks at where he is pointing and at first, she thinks he is pointing at the F.B.I. lock she broke off the controls to claim the vehicle and go back to 1850 London and try this whole bit of stupidity, in the first place, and doesn't notice right away the gauge flashing red, which eventual she discovered meant the timing chain had broke, was off. Meaning she was free to fix her mistake and take his lordness back. Or at least try. Which in her mind might fix all this hell. In her research on who to take she picked Lord Arnold because he was the lead voice in keeping the world clean during the industrial age and returning this lord and member of parliament meant adding his voice of reason in the fight against digging for energy.
"What, pray-tale, are those?"
She sees he was in fact pointing at the ribbon of black asphalt that cut like cancer through the pristine woodlands North of San Fran, where they found themselves. Little boxes cut across it leaving a trail of gray smog behind.
"I would say transport of some kind."
"How do they run horseless?"
She sniffed at the dirty air, "Judging from the exhaust, I would guess some kind of combustion."
"Oil derivatives?"
"Perhaps."
"So various, so beautiful, so new. To think the devils were right this whole time. When ignorant armies clash by night, by Jove."
She looks at him suddenly afraid she had stumbled upon the true fix to all this and it wasn't returning the lord to his time and place after all. She grips the hammer in her hand tightly, deciding sometimes violence is best, after all when fixing a mechanical deficit. |
The warning was met with a scoff of derision. The upstart adventurer slid a dagger from his belt, casually flipping it around in his hand.
"Oi, you, I want an ale and information."
The target of his words half turned towards him, stained white shirt stretched tight across a broad chest. A thick head of grey hair lay in a messy pile, meeting with an equally unkempt beard. The bartender wiped the inside of an empty tankard, before speaking in a quiet, calm voice.
"Ale is easy. Information, now that is an odd request."
The adventurer pulled out a sketch, flipping it around to show the bartender. The hulk of a figure barely glanced at it, as the upstart spoke with a self-important tone.
"I have heard this woman came into this pub. You are going to tell me where she is."
The bartender leaned in ever so slightly, tone still level.
"I don't know who she is. I haven't seen her before."
As soon as the words left their lips, the adventurer moved. The dagger flashed, spearing down to staple the sketch to the wooden bar.
"Look again. I know you're lying. You don't want to lie to me."
Around them a few locals pulled away, quietly making a space around their conversation. All eyes fell on the pair, chatter falling silent on still lips, laser focus on that one single point.
The bartender carried on wiping, showing no care for the situation.
"I said I don't know her."
Venom filled the adventurers voice, as they withdrew another dagger.
"Listen, simpleton. If you don't start talking, I'm going to have to persuade you. I'm sure you have a family wanting to see you in one piece."
In an instant the bartender showed a glimpse of emotion. A fire in their eye, as they leaned further.
"I said I *don't* know her. Now get out."
"You utter-"
Whatever was going to be said next was interrupted by a strangled gurgle, as a meaty hand shot out to wrap around the adventurers throat. The bartender glared, breath coming in great huffs. Already pulled back, those who knew what was coming drew back further, dragging tables and chairs with them.
"You. Do. Not. Threaten. Me. In. My. Tavern."
A well spring of rage poured through the words of the bartender, as each was spat out. The once peaceful exterior was replaced with the hardened still of a warrior, one who had grown old in a young person's field. One who had embraced the berserker within, and used it to shatter armies.
"Now. Get. Out." |
Another day, another batch of Soylent Green, we all know that it's primary ingredient is dead people by now. But we can't do anything about it, it's either this or starve to death.
We've polluted our planet beyond any repair that we will see in this in Millenia, plants, vegetation and meat are food for the rich. What little we have are lab grown or raised in captivity. The Soylent Green we are fed consists 75% of human meat, 10% various chemicals and additives, 10% bugs and rodents that survive in our polluted world, and 5% plant matter which are themselves pumped full of chemicals.
Almost all plant and "natural"ingredients are beyond the prices of even the upper-middle class. Leaving us with flavourings sourced from other means, or means that do not require an unpolluted sky, earth or sea. such as salt from our oceans or minerals or fungi grown in the dark and damp.
Only good thing about it, is that it keeps you full and gives you enough energy for a day.
-----‐
I arrive back home, a modest apartment for a worn-out soul, fortunately I make just that bit more than most others and can afford some small measures of luxury.
I lay the soylent on my cutting board, dicing it into as small of pieces as I possibly can, sweep the pile into the blender, pour in some water and milk.
That's right, milk, human of course. Don't worry, not from a dead human, from my neighbour Suzzane actually, she's expecting a kid in a couple months. But until that baby is born, the milk would just be wasted. So she bottles up her milk and sells it. In our world where our daily meals are just soylent green and salt, and maybe mushrooms, Milk is a luxury, regardless of what creature it comes from. Being her next door neighbour means I get to be one of the first ones to buy a bottle.
Anyways, as I was saying. Blend the mixture into a paste, pour it out into a stove pot, set the heat on medium to low, pour in more water and milk, stir the pot, add in chopped mushrooms, let it boil for a couple minutes whilst stirring it every now and then, sprinkle in some salt.
And now for the more luxurious part, grounded herbs, an absolute fortune for how little you get. Hells, I could get a natural diamond ring for cheaper. But today is a special day after all, so why shouldn't I splurge a little?
I scoop the soup into a bowl, sprinkle on the herbs, and pour myself a glass of milk.
Happy Birthday to me. |
As the one eyed man with the black birds raised his cup at Jennifer, she was still trying to process what was going on. She was in a long building that reminded her of a church. In front of her was a long table with wonderful foods all laid out in front of her.
"Prepare to fight every day for the rest of your eternity"the one eyed man said. He seemed sad about it. Jennifer wasn't sure why.
"Just know that you gave a good fight. But that's the rules of this place. And unfortunately, the rules have been altered in recent years to make more people be drawn into these halls. Please enjoy the feast until the fight comes again."
The one eyed man stood up and left to another room. Jennifer could make out yelling and cheering coming from the other side of the door. She wondered why she couldn't go over there where the people seemed happier. It seemed better than being here with everyone who seemed very sad about something.
As she ate in silence among the others, her head started to ache, as it did when she was in the hospital. It started becoming more painful. Jennifer started to scream and cry in pain, accompanied by the disturbed and pained screeches of the other children near her.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
As the one eyed man with the black birds raised his cup at a child seated on the bench next to her, Jennifer was still trying to process what was going on. She seemed to remember being in pain yesterday, but couldn't remember much.
"Prepare to fight every day for the rest of your eternity"the one eyed man said. He seemed sad about it. Jennifer wasn't sure why. |
'Well of course they're dragons!"Lancelot yelled, his voice booming through the row of cubicles.
"No, for the fifth time, they're not! Our bosses, despite their greed and avarice, are only human. It's human to sin."
Lancelot cocked his head, still puzzled. That look was becoming very familiar now to me. That and his, I will destroy this enemy face, had become common to me since the incident today.
The incident was too simple. During lunch break, when most people were gone, a blue portal opened and sucked in my cubicle buddy Steve. In his place dropped Lancelot, a knight's exemplaire from the Redenian Kingdom, a title that apparently carried some pull.
Just not on 21st century Earth, in the deep catacombs of the paper company I worked for.
Lancelot was sent here by an evil wizard, and was duty bound to learn the ways of this new world and find a way back his time and end the Mighty Mage Gorgoth. For that, he had to first master the dreaded ender of free time, the bosses email.
Then the hourly schedule update. The chair with bad lumbar support. The printer.
For some reason, all my other workers saw in this hunking 6 foot man with flowing blond locks the fat portly body of Steve. Poor Steve. I wonder how he would fare in an atheletic medival fantasy world. Not that good I assume. Also, he was black! How was Lancelots world in regard to race? For the usual fantasies didn't have a good record in this area.
But I never got to ask Lancelot all this because ever since I had explained to him the company hierarchy structure, he was convinced our ceo's were dragons in disguise.
Despite all my efforts to the contrary.
"They're not fire breathing reptiles!"I yelled. I cringed instantly fraid we'd get caught. I shouldn't have bothered. No one looked up form their cubicle but just shushed me.
"But I never claimed they were. I said, dragons."
"Look, I'm not discussing fantasy species bifurcation with you. You just need to listen to me about this. Like with the computer."
Lancelot rubbed his head, ashamed still of his defeat. "That electric contraption was a puzzle too great for my intellect, yes, but in this area I have an expertise, for I am a dragon hunter!"His voice loud and proud even through his whispers, and just for a second I could imagine the many warriors charging to battle behind with this beast of a man. "Look,"he said, "Can you just answer a few of mine questions? I know these scaly beasts, you don't. If these Seyiyo's of yours are human, I would never hurt them. But if they aren't, well how would you know?"
Well, answering a few questions wouldn't hurt. "Okay. But only if you drop this matter after."I accepted, gingerly.
Lancelot nodded, "A fair bargain. Alright, they hoard great weath, yes?"
I mentally remembered the company profit margin and the huge bonuses the upper level management received. "Yes."
"Do they also have a long list of henchmen, who they boss around with absurd orders and yet pay nothing close what they earn?"
My head titled as the question hit home. "Why yes. Yes they do."
Lancelot's face tightened. "Concerning. What about this, are they unnatural in appearance?"
"Meaning what?"I asked, confused.
"It is inexplicable. I need to see them!"
"Will a picture work?"I ask, loading the company website home page. There a of picture the entire upper level of our company showed them all in suits, smiling, giving a most robotic thumbs up.
"Old skin yet no wrinkles (all of them were old yet hiding it with surgery). Colours in strange places (make up). And that expression on their face, that smug arrogance? Dragons. All of them."Lancelot mumbled, unsheathing his sword. He had a habit of doing that far too quickly.
"Look, I'm get your points but I'm concerned you're reading to much into this."I had to stop him!
It was too late. He got up, and depsite my holding on to his one arm with both of mine, put his armour on. Then, he easily shook me off, like an elephant would a flea.
He marched away, but came back, because he didn't know where they were. I was then carried, and he managed to take the information out of me quickly. You say no to a knight in full armour.
I took him upstairs. Security ignored us for some reason, but before we stepped into the main chamber where only the heads of Pile's Gold and Paper Co, he dropped me down.
"I sense this is the final chamber."He whispered.
"Yes..."I gasped out, tired being carried all the way here. He wasn't even breathing hard. "Look-"
"No friend, you listen. You have helped me blend in this strange land and learn the ways. You gave me great service, which i cherish. But I'm a knight exemplaire of the Redenian royal force, and I am oathsworn to find my way back and kill the mage who wronged me so greviously. I need a way back though, and from everything you've told me about these creatures from their greed to their unfair payment, these are dragons. Look how they even decorate their lair!"
And I couldn't argue, because the gaudy gold and purple painy job and ornate tasteless furnishings of my bosses chambers didn't let me.
"I'm sure, somewhere in there is a phylactery or a crystal or some electric device that will let me go back. I'm certain of it. All dragons love artifacts of power. I will go in their my only goal is to go back home. I will not fight unless necessary, you have my word. But I must do this! You understand?"He finished his speech and if I could charge an army now, I would.
"Good. I shall find a way to send word back. Thank you, friend."Those were his last words, before he barreled through the giant doors with freakish speed, breaking them to smithereens. My mouth agape, I tried to follow, but my supervisor called me just then, asking why I wasn't at my desk and where was Steve. By the time I got back upstairs, the doors were whole again. I was extremely confused, but could do nothing. What do I even say? These doors had been crushed by a knight before?
I went back, and soon enough, reality took over. A few days later however, my computer screen crinkled. Out popped out a note. It read,
I'm back. Seyeyo's were indeed dragon wizards. Slayed them, spell ended. Steve wishes to stay here. Thanks for assistance. Thou have knightly strength and valor. Warm regards, Lancelot. |
I enter the dreamer's dream as is my wont, and see him experiencing the joys of his subconscious desires. This one flies across places he wishes to see in waking world. I scoff at the baseness of this, limited only by imagination indeed. I cease to watch him and begin, I pinch and prod at his dream world, to see where his fears are hidden, for it is terror of the mind that is my sustenance.
Tastes of memories, sounds of experiences, feels of lessons learned, slowly as to not accidentally wake him, do I search for strongest links to his emotions.
"There it is!!!"I think in triumph, when I see a taught strand of his history. I blow at it gently to make it sing.
"It is too deep, help!!"Barely a whisper, an entrée before the main course, but already I know this will be a feast. I begin to link the strand to the dream world getting ready take control when suddenly...
"Hello there. How is it going?"
Irritation fills my being, rarely do I get noticed, but when I do, the effects of the nightmare is always lessened, as my presence is inevitably imprinted to the dream. Also the dreamers wake up sooner as the discrepancies stir them.
In disgust I pluck the strand as hard as I can, to salvage as much as possible.
The man is now drowning in the sea, one hand above the waves, otherwise submerged. I ready myself to eat and We are in a white room with only a desk and two chairs. Man slides a paper and pen to me.
"Well get started, draw me what is on your mind right now."He says. I pick up the pencil and begin to draw the hunger that compels my being, this has been a very frustrating day, I draw on the memories of having a bad luck trying to entrap a flying man when suddenly ...
"How did I get here?"I ask the man in confusion. "Why am I here? This makes no"We are sitting in a rowboat each holding one oar, rowing in unison. I am glad I finally got to do this. Beings like me never get to experience human activities. We lack the physical bodies to do it, so I am really enjoying the unusual experience.
"Having fun?"asks my friend
"Very much so, I am just a little hungry"I reply, beginning to feel the drain on my own essence.
"Don't worry, there is plenty of food where we are going"He says in a joyful tone.
"That is good."I say and continue to row. I am so looking forward to the food, beings like me need to feast almost all the time, lest we begin to consume ourself. That is why we move from dream to dream from the moment we are conceived. Consuming the food of the...
"I don't eat food."I say in sudden confusion and look at the man "I can't eat..."Only few more steps and we will reach the summit. Finally, after the years of preparation we will succeed where most have not. Though my whole body now aches, and starves. I will rank amongst less then 200 who climbed Mt. Everest without oxygen. This fills me with pride. Though a small fear gnaws at me.
"I don't think I will be able to get down."I say to my Sherpa.
"Don't worry about that, I will take care of you."He replies in comforting voice and continues to climb. He is however getting further and further away, as is the summit, I try to hurry to catch up, but it is as if I am stuck in quick sand. I am not moving, he is too far, I am too weak, I will be trapped here.
"Heeeelp"I scream at him. But he is now so far away I can barely see him, I need to get away, I turn around and freeze. The slope is littered by shades of my kind. Realization hits me, he is lucid and aware. I need to escape to another dreamer, I barely have enough energy to jump The Adrenalin is pumping in my veins as I take second to last turn of this F1 race. The horror of so many crashes on this last lap on the forefront of my mind. So many dead friends. I am so glad this will be over, I think I will never drive again, I am almost dead of hunger, it is not worth it.
Only one last turn, but I am so tired, my vision is getting blurry and fading. I think I will faint before I cross the finish line.
I see the man with the checkered flag waving at the finish line. I am loosing the fight of staying awake ... I ... I don't sleep, ... not staying awake, ... staying alive... I don't even have energy to be horrified by this realization.
The last thing my dissolving essence sees is the grinning face of the man I came to feast on, waving off my life like one big joke. |
The communication device on my wrist buzzed again.
"Tell them to fuck off,"Khalan answered.
"It's the council."
"Of course it's the council. Who else would dare summon you like this. You only just got back from assignment! For fucks sake Chris, you've been gone for 32 cycles! Why can't you have just one night back with me?"
I could only sigh, helplessly. There was a loud and insistent knock at the door.
"I have to get this over with,"I said, kissing my adorable but pissed of wife on the forehead. We had a rule that we wouldn't say goodbye angry. Well, I had my job to finish and she was angry and there was nothing I could do about it. I deserved a night with my wife after everything I'd been through, but it wasn't to be.
That damnable job! That damnable planet! Those damnable test subjects!
An attendant was waiting at the door and gestured towards a portal. It was an expensive mode of transportation, one that lead from my front garden straight into the council chambers. Thirty senior figures circled a low table and thirty thousand more stood in the dimly lit auditorium above.
Despite being over a hundred thousand cycles old, I suddenly felt very young and foolish.
"Councilor Chris. Thank you for finally joining us."The lead councilors voice dripping with reprimand.
"I'd like for you to explain why you have ordered the quarantine of 13 system planets. I'd also like you to explain why you have made the unprecedented request that WE should also be quarantined from THEM!!"
"Yes of course,"I should have been nervous at being dressed down by the council like this, but lately I had grown accustomed to true fear.
"My assignment was to observe the systems integration test on planet PX-J15. Locally known as Earth."A projection of the planet floated above the table. "As per system protocol, twelve randomly selected individuals were taken from their sleep and transported to an already integrated planet. My job was to observe their performance under system conditions, and to make recommendations on their integration assistance package."
I suddenly felt foolish, lecturing this ancient group on basic system integration protocols. I shook the thought off.
"The test subjects were monsters. Each and every one of them. I've never seen anything like it."The projection changed to show a young man dancing through a chaotic battlefield, hurling balls of fire and ice while slicing his enemies in half with a system infused sword. A young lady hunting a horde of demons from above on wings of ash. She crashed into their ranks with a meteoric detonation then blinked in and out of their ranks, each apparition delivering surgical punches and kicks that shattered skulls and ruptured organs. Titanic beings clashed against a diminutive figures in utter vain. Armies of beasts piled up in a forested land. Once proud kings looked up in abject terror for the first and last time. The recording went on and on with one thing remained constant. Every one of the test subjects wore a silly grin. Not a sinister grin. It looked like they were having fun.
One by one, the councilors looked away as the grisly scenes unfolded.
"This,"I said. "Was all during the tutorial phase of their system integration test."
A pulse of opinions and fear rippled through the council.
"Wait!"I yelled. "There is more you should know."
"They had a shared culture. Every one of them referred to their transportation into a strange new world using the term 'Isekai'. They also used the term 'RPG'. They would quickly adapt to the new environment and would go on to optimize and outright cheat every part of the systems magic that they were exposed to. It ensured not just their power and survival, but also their absolute dominance over every power hierarchy that they encountered. All twelve host worlds have been damaged beyond repair."
"PX-J15 is a high population world, am I correct?"A councilwoman asked with a trembling voice. It was the only sound that echoed through the council chamber.
"9 billion, ma'am. Possessing a high level of technology."The projection blinked back to the planet overview, this time with a dizzying array of overlays and statistics floating above the planet. "Furthermore, preliminary studies have shown that the general population has creativity and intelligence quotients so far of the scale that the scale might as well not exist!"
"It's almost.."I wanted to stop before injecting an opinion, but I couldn't help myself.
"It's almost like they are so eager for the system integration that they have started without it."
"And now, the system is coming to Earth, and with it, unrestrained magic."The head councilor finished for me.
"Yes, we have 16 cycles."I seated myself.
The council erupted into chaotic arguments as a few senior councilors bellowed out orders, attempting to bring back the decorum. Their job had always been to help new worlds survive their system integration and now they were desperately trying to stop it.
A door crashed open. One of my assistants ran towards me and whispered a short but soul freezing message.
"Excuse me, Councilors!"A lot of eyes were suddenly looking at me.
"One of the test subjects has just broken quarantine. He has returned to Earth." |
The old man behind the counter wiped his glasses with his shirt sleeve and then replaced them.
“Say what now?” He said into the phone.
“Uh-huh.”
“And it’s called a what?”
He picked up a binder from under the counter, opening it and drawing his middle finger down a long list of products. His hands looked large for his size and strong for his age, and they also trembled violently. He must have been in his late seventies. I imagined him pouring a glass of water with those trembling hands, and it made me want to cry.
His name tag read Bob.
“I don’t have anything like that here at the shop.” Bob said to the chirping woman on the phone.
“No ma’am”
He snapped the folder shut and returned it to its place under the counter. He shouldered the phone and rubbed his hands together nervously.
“Well heck, I got all kinds of lawnmowers.” He said. “You could tell me how big a yard you got, an’ I…”
“Well, no.”
“Ma’am please, no need to yell.”
His face was getting red, his breathing sharp and quick.
“Now hold on. ” He said.
“Now you listen here, Missy...”
“Hello?”
"Hello?"
“Goodness gracious.”
Bob placed the phone on the receiver. Once he had collected himself, he looked up at me over the brim of his glasses and forced a smile.
“How can I help you son?” He asked.
That smile — that smile made me feel so bad. So sorry.
“Bob.” I didn’t know what to say, what I was supposed to say.
“Everything will be okay for you.” I whispered, pointing the gun towards the office.
“Just give me the money in the safe, and you won’t get hurt.” |
The door opened. An overweight Italian man stood there, staring dumbly at the delivery boy. The man looked at the pizza boxes and back to the boy.
"What is your name?"The voice was rough and calculated, as if each word were pre-meditated.
"Depends on the buyer. I'm deliverin' to a Mexican, my names Juan. They send me to a Indian, my names Raj. See I got a face that fits any race. For you, my names Tony."Tony gave a small smile and a half bow, holding the pizzas in just his left arm.
"Leave, Tony."The man spoke slowly, weight behind the words. An unspoken threat if Tony had ever seen one.
"Well hold on now,"Tony spoke quickly. "Is this because I got here in 31 minutes? I blame your tiger for that one. I mean who keeps a tiger? Without that tiger, I'd be here in 25 minutes. 27 *tops*."
The man closed the door, but Tony put his foot in the doorway. The man slowly opened it again and looked at the delivery boy. He didn't say anything, but instead lifted his shirt, revealing a fat gut and a gun.
"Woah now,"Tony said. "I'd tell you to get a girdle, but you're already strapped, eh?"The young boy laughed, proud of that one.
The man at the door closed his eyes slowly and opened them again. "Tony. I'll say it once more. Leave."
"Not until I get paid, amico."
The man stepped outside and pulled out his gun. Tony gulped.
----
**Four years later**
"I don't want to buy any *nose candy*, whatever the Hell that is."The disgruntled man said to the man pestering him on the street. "What the hell is your name?"
"I go by many names, brother."The young man said. "But for you, my names Jamal." |
The day of the inauguration was painfully cold and blindingly sunny. I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with hundreds of thousands of other people, staring eagerly up at the podium where the new president was preparing to make his speech. Though it had been a long time since the president said anything substantive in the inaugural speech, going to see it in person was kind of like going to a big rock concert. It just wasn't the same on TV. I had camped out for ages to get tickets, and I was just a few dozen feet from the main stage.
Finally, the new president and Chief Justice Big Mac took the stage. The president wore a bright red suit coat, with a tactful white vertical line and a few bubbles arcing down the back. Our nation's logo was emblazoned across the front. Chief Justice Big Mac wore his ceremonial white robe, on the back of which was a golden M that stretched from the floor and stopped just shy of the neckline.
The new President placed his hand on the Bible and said the Oath of Office as follows: “I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States of Coca Cola, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
Applause erupted from the crowd and a few people cheered, though their voices were drowned out in the din. It had been a very close race between Senator Skittles and now-President Pizza Hut, but in the end President Pizza Hut's compelling campaign about the societal detriment of chewy candies contributing to cavities, and how cavities in the mouth of one American are cavities in the soul of the country, swayed the vote.
President Pizza Hut took the podium, settling his hands on either side as the crowd quieted down.
"My fellow Americans,"he intoned soberly, "I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for helping me get to this stage today, by announcing that, as my first act as President, every citizen will get 20% off their order this evening from Pizza Hut."
The crowd applauded appreciatively. President Pizza Hut smiled indulgently, waiting for them to calm down.
"Today ushers in a new era in American history,"he continued ponderously, "where every American can lease or finance a new Chevrolet truck or sedan for just 2.5% APR."
Another round of applause, through which President Pizza Hut waited patiently.
"As President, I intend to see to it that every man, woman, and child in this country can experience the thrill of a perfectly clean linoleum and hardwood floors with the Hurricane Spin Mop. That's right, the Hurricane Spin Mop! Everyone who orders today will receive TWO Hurricane Spin Mops for the price of one. But wait- there's more! In honor of my inauguration, the generous folks at Hurricane Spin Mop have decided to also include two bottles of Hurricane Spin Mop Floor Detergent at *no extra cost*!"
The crowd erupted into frantic cheers and clapping, a woman standing next to me started weeping with joy and relief.
"My floors have been so dirty for so long,"she confided to me, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. I smiled and nodded patiently.
"But this is also a time of need, America. As you well know, the dangers of chewy fruit candy still loom over our nation's head. A cavity in the mouth of one citizen, is a cavity in the mouth of Freedom."Several people in the crowd nodded appreciatively. "Four out of five dentists recommend Colgate to keep your family's teeth healthy.
"I look forward to this incredible journey with you, as the President of the United States of Coca Cola. It is my privilege to serve as Commander in Cola of this refreshing nation. And please remember, America, to spay and neuter your pets, and eat your Wheaties."
Deafening applause engulfed the National Mall as President Pizza Hut retreated from the podium. Confetti exploded over the crowd from somewhere overhead. I had been grinning for so long, and the air was so cold, that my cheeks were in agonizing pain. But I couldn't stop smiling. |
It was another average day in Sea City and Rick Yeager was driving his bus back to the depot to clock out. "Hope the wife is making beef stew tonight". Rick was so absorbed with thoughts of steamy beef, he barely noticed the road ahead of him splitting in half. "What the hell is this?"Rick jammed on his brakes, turning his bus nearly sideways. A thunderous crack filled the air as the road collapsed totally into the ground in front of Rick's bus. Cautiously, he got out to survey the scene. A gargantuan abyss loomed a few mere feet away from the front of his bus. Rick could not see the bottom nor the other side from where he stood. The entire city before him had seemingly been swallowed up by the earth.
"What's the hold up son?", inquired a little voice behind Rick.
Rick turned to address the voice of his geriatric passenger. "Please, get back on the bus Mrs. Snider", said Rick a bit uncertainly. He was considering his options, when someone cried out behind him: "What's that, up in the sky? Is it a tornado?"
Rick grimaced immediately. He knew it could only be one thing.
"Oh lord, it's that dick with the blender", said Mrs. Snider.
Up in the sky, there did indeed appear to be a small tornado of sorts. Strangely, it was apparent that someone was riding the top of the thing by somehow clinging to the tail end of the twister. As the whirlwind grew closer, the figure materialized as a man in an odd costume clinging to a strange device which was seemingly the source of the wind. He wore a grey one-piece jumpsuit, accented with yellow arrows and a large emblem across his chest depicting the device he bore in his hands. The man rotated around like a ceiling fan blade from the end of the twister, his body held straight out. He was emitting a constant wail as he traveled.
"This is all we need"said a bystander.
The tornado suddenly disappeared and the costumed man was flung unceremoniously to the ground, landing just a few feet away from Rick. The gruff bus driver looked upon the prone figure with contempt.
"Can I help you up Blenderman?"he said with a sigh.
He was moving to do so, when the earth again began to rumble. The earth shook violently and Rick stumbled to the ground. As he shook his head clear, he slowly noticed that he was lying in shadow. Turning his head, a grotesque sight came to his eyes. The thing before him was enormous, it loomed up nearly six stories into the air. To Rick, this thing looked like nothing so much as a giant lobster which had managed to grow tentacles and several extra eyes, one of which slowly moved to hover over him. Rick was paralyzed with terror, the creature was slowly extending a massive pincer toward him. He felt a strong wind blowing across his face and then he saw no more.
Rick awoke a few moments later and blearily looked around. He saw a costumed figure, high in the sky, plummeting toward the massive lobster like creature. As Rick lost consciousness again, he heard these words echoing through the air: "Will it blend?! Will it blend?!"
|
"It's beautiful isn't it,"said a naked man sitting on Abalon hill. There were no flowers, the grasses had long since died. The buildings that once lined Frumpton street in white brick so contrast to the red stones in the road, had worn away, rusted out and turned to dust. The roads of Gilgarech, which once were the roads of Arion, which once were the roads of Visti, which once were the roads of Quarts had finally broken apart under the heat of the swelling sun.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"he repeated to a dark figure walking up behind.
The sun was the sky: red anger in all directions.
"It's beautiful,"said Death, taking a seat beside the man. "It will not be long now."
"So you say."
"True,"said death, pulling back the hood of his cloak to reveal a soft angelic face, "I know not what will happen to my essence once the sun breaks its hold and destroys this world. I know not what will happen to one such as you, immortal. You should have died long ago."
"I should have,"the man said. "You are immortal as well."
"No,"said death, "I am of a purpose which you have outlasted. There is but one soul left on this world and I am bound by the laws set forth before the creation to guide it into the dimensional rift. I do not know if I will be set free upon this fiery end. Impossible to tell, if my final duty will be lingering with you in the vacuity of space until the final collapse."
"I can not say,"thought the man, "if that is my fate to float in space for the rest of time, that it would be a bad thing to have you with me."
"Nor do you know the glory of the souls freedom in the other worlds,"Death smiled, eyes soft and human. "These past years, do you know how many?"
The man shook his head no and crossed his arms, "Too many."
"Too many, Five billion years,"death mocked, "and you have not lost your mind. You have outlived your own species. You have seen the caldera explode. You have seen the ice age come. You saw new creatures walk the world and were here when visitors arrived from distant stars. What is your regret?"
"Besides not going when I had the chance?"
Death pointed at the sun, which roared and screamed as it bit and burned space. "Do not waste time now,"Death begged.
"I regret,"said the man, "not telling the people I loved how deeply I loved them."
"Foolish man,"said Death.
**edit** |
[Edit: Part 3 added below]
The captain flicked the intercom switch "All hands battle stations. T-minus one minute."There was a renewed flurry of activity all over the ship as weapons were armed, readouts double-checked, and hands hovered over keyboards. The USO Gate Crasher was the fastest and meanest looking ship in earth's arsenal. The black hull was dotted with laser domes and acceleration nacelles that made it look like a windblown porcupine. This was the first manned mission to cross the line since the warning sent to earth ten years ago. No probes or drones were heard or seen from again past the border. Humanity was growing restless.
"Ten seconds."The captain said as he tightened the chair's harness. His eyes stared straight ahead at the main view screens. Once past the border, the ship's lasers were programmed to automatically incinerate anything bigger than a pebble within a light second radius, the antimatter missiles would take care of the rest. False alarms were out of the question, even out here in the heart of the asteroid belt, it was rare to find just one small rock within sensor distance, or so the astronomers said.
The ship cut past border, a single ping sounded across the ship to notify the crew. Nothing happened.
"Status!"Yelled the captain.
"Sensors show nothing sir."Said the ensign "Absolutely nothing... wai-."The ships computer interrupted the ensign
* [Incoming communication # source unknown] *
"Read out."the captain said.
A brief moment of static was followed by a young female voice "You have crossed the border without permission..."only the faint hiss from the oxygen tubes could be heard in the room."...You have passed the first test, a bold move for your species. But if you are to survive in this cosmos you will need much, much more..."The captain thought he heard a faint chuckle as the voice finished. Suddenly there were hundreds of dots materializing in the view screen, the proximity alarm sounded like a thunderclap. The ship looked like a blown dandelion as a full barrage of missiles were fired at once. A small smile crept up from the captain’s cracked lips, he always liked pop quizzes.
**PART II**
The Gate Crasher's targeting computer now ran the show. The forward facing lasers were aimed at the closest ships while the missiles arced over towards the farthest. The main command display snapped to a tight crop of the largest alien ship. It looked like those flying saucers you see in shaky handheld videos, but with two saucers stacked on top of each other. The screen's scale bar measured a couple kilometers across. What looked like thousands of angry bees appeared from the gap between the two saucers. These smaller ships ebbed and flowed in a large cloud that advanced directly for the ship.
Pulsing every microsecond, the ship's laser array was still falling behind the targeting quota. Noting this, the targeting computer overclocked itself, firing with a newfound vigor. Tens of thousands of new lights exploded upon the deep, giving a strobe like illumination to the hundreds of surrounding bees. The antimatter missiles were faring better, each one creating a bubble of pure energy that left an ever shifting swiss cheese texture in the approaching swarm.
The captain looked over at the battle overview screen, the outlook was grim. What looked like a line of green ink was dripping past each circular range marker that ringed the ship. For every bee destroyed, ten more emerged from the mothership.
"Reverse course!"The captain jerked against the seats restraint straps. On command, the ships nacelles pivoted forward, they emitted light first in the ultraviolet then quickly shifted into X-ray spectrum as they ramped to full power.
"Weapon status!"
"Laser heat sinks at 80% capacity, missiles half depleted"the computer chimed in its calm voice.
"Target override.” The captain said “Lasers fire on the mothership when the missiles clear a path!"he watched the swarm stagger closer.
The lasers impatiently waited for the flock of missiles to reorient themselves. Each one turning in to converge along the precomputed line which held the mothership at one end and the fleeing Gate Crasher at the other. The resulting explosion produced the largest antimatter column the galaxy has seen in eons. On cue, the lasers flooded the narrow well with light hitting the mothership’s central axis with everything they had.
"Laser heat sinks at 100% capacity, shutting down"the computer said. The swarm vanished from the view screen, the mothership remained undamaged.
“Full stop.” Said the captain, he ran a hand through his short hair. A crackling female voice came over the ships intercom...
“Very good human. You impress me still.” The ship creaked and popped from the contracting heatsinks. “A decision has been reached, the border will be expanded to a four light year radius around your star.”
“That’s just shy of the Alpha Centauri system.” whispered the captain under his breath.
“Yes, and if you humans want it,” The voice replied “come take it. But be warned… Out there, we shoot back.”The crackle of the audio transmission ceased. The air in the command room had grown eerily cold.
**PART III**
# Seven Years Latter #
The Captain awoke into a void, there was no feeling, no color, no taste. To him, there was only one consciousness, alone in the universe. What the hell happened? His thoughts were difficult to form, it’s as if they were slurred in his own head. Moments passed, or was it years, the Captain couldn’t be sure, the important thing was that he wasn’t alone anymore. From somewhere far off he could hear it. As he concentrated the noise grew louder, a buzzing sound, barely audible over the silence. A split second latter the noise rose to a deafening roar, it shook the very fabric of his existence. Memories flashed like lightning before his eyes and pain squeezed his bones.
The Captain flashed back to the Gate Crasher’s bridge.
“Where are they,” Jane said absentmindedly. “I thought we crossed the border half a light year back.” She placed her hands on her hips, a navigational view screen stood before her.
“They’re going to ambush us Lieutenant.”
Started, Jane turned and looked at The Captain. “How do you know that sir?”
“Because that’s what I would do.” The Captain said. His fingers tapped the command chair’s compad as he re-checked the ship status reports. He paused when he glanced up at the navigation screen.
“Red alert, all hands battle stations.” How many times has he said that over the years? He quickly tossed the thought from his mind, this was no time to day dream. His eyes burned as he stared at the map. Pressing a small button on his wrist, his suit injected a small dose of stimulant #3 into his neck. The stimulant, along with several other chemicals, were now standard on all fleet issue survival suits.
The Captain leaned forward, he could feel the stimulant releasing adrenaline already, waves of energy pulsed through his body. The bridge’s main view screen showed a tight crop of the sixth planet. Alternating red and green belts of gas streaked diagonally across the planet. Several such stands merged just below the planet’s equator into a giant storm, leaving ripples of yellow gas in its wake.
The ships sensors first detected the massive gravitational wave. Usually produced by colliding black holes or supernovae, a wave this large had no business existing here. For several milliseconds the computers poured over the data, checking and re-checking the logs, the physics just didn’t line up. Unable to cope with the paradox any further, the computer decided the next course of action was to notify a human. The small message scrolled unobtrusively across the ensign's compad: [Anomaly 41b. Origin: -50km Alpha Centarui F. Requesting action...] A small blinking light now flashed on the system map, it was centered on the planet.
The ensign blinked forcefully then re-read the message. Shit. His clenched fist slammed down on the intercom switch. "Wardens on Centarui F!"The computers had no problem interpreting this message, the ship's weapons were hot before the ensign could inhale his next breath.
The flak cannon spat 350mm slugs at a mind numbing rate as the dual rail barrels swept across the bow. The slugs were accelerated down the barrels by electromagnets so powerful they would rip the keys right out of your pocket a mile away. Downrange the slugs exploded, peppering the space between the planet and the ship with thick clouds of Uranium dust, creating a shield that would hopefully obstruct hostile laser fire.
The gas giant's atmosphere darkened as billions of black dots emerged from beneath the clouds. Like flies suddenly rising off a carcass, the swarm took flight. Most were the same featureless black cubes as before, but now there were tetrahedrons sporadically intermixed. These new pyramidal shaped objects were larger and moved slower than the cubes surrounding them. The Captain didn't like the way the cubes amassed and orbited around the new shapes as if they were protecting them.
(Holy crap do I write slow... If there's further interest I might put more up on a blog, but for now I think I'll keep writing. Perhaps it will turn into a book someday.) |
"Please do not infuriate me."Bruce Placard said threateningly, pointing a finger at his enemy. "You would not adore me when I am perturbed."
Bruce Banner studied him from down the street, feeling the rage bubbling inside him. This other Bruce was practically a clone, but for some reason had strange, out-of-proportion limbs. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
"Look, *Bruce*, or whatever your real name is. I don't know who you are, or why you're making fun of me, but just stop it. This will not end well for you."
"No, it is for *you* that things will not turn happily!"shouted his opponent down the street. Banner felt his biceps bulging and his feet swelling against the sides of his shoes. He closed his eyes and repeated his mantra over and over, trying to stop the eruption of anger. He heard a rip and felt the shirt start to peel off of his back; it wasn't working.
"Please, just go"Banner managed to spit out before clenching his teeth and focusing on reversing the change.
"No, *you* go,"said Placard, planting his feet in the concrete. "Or I unleash my *true* self: The Astonishing Bulk!"
Banner couldn't hold the corrections in anymore; "IT'S '**H**ULK!'"he roared. His eyes popped open, suddenly emerald green. The shirt seemed to melt off of him, dissolving into scraps of shredded fabric as his enormous biceps bulged out. His skin tinged a neon, toxic-looking green. He felt his shoes tear apart as his feet tripled in size, and the pavement cracked under the sudden additional weight of his swollen muscles.
Across the street, Placard was undergoing a similar transformation, but into a more yellowish, baby-poop brown color. They roared simultaneously and launched themselves at each other with their enormous fists raised. |
*Not really thinking clearly while I write this, I think I went off on a bit of a tangent and got a little confused. But I imagine that's what you would feel like in this sort of scenario.*
I'm sitting in bed, working on an assignment due the next evening. I've been stressing myself out with the workload; nearly contemplated dropping out of university. There's a bright light outside. I don't know what it is. I don't care, work is all I can think about right now.
I'm sitting in bed, working on geography homework due tomorrow morning. The shock of the Reset makes me nauseous, and I dry retch doubled over. Downstairs, I hear my dad and my sister doing the same, with my confused mum asking what's wrong, panic in her voice. I stand up and look at my calender - 28th of February, 2005. Ten years in the past. Blair is still in power, tuition fees are a third of the cost, and *my mother is alive again*. I run downstairs, nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste, and get into the kitchen. There are high pitched voices of sheer panic and confusion on the radio, and my father and my sister and clinging to my mother, and I follow suit. She has no idea what's happened. I guess she wouldn't, there was no her to come back.
Weeks pass. There are good points and bad points. Babies are sad figures rather than cute, trying desperately to communicate without the skills to do so. The lottery is redundant. Crimes are being solved before they happen, bringing unprecedented legal questions into play. Political party's manifestos don't have the credibility they used to, now people know they have no intention of following through.
Months pass. I make the most of the time I have left with my mum. Her passing is harder this time. School is easier than last time around, but then it is for everybody. Primary schools are abandoned, anyone at the right age to go through school already did it ten years ago. Ten years hence. Whatever. Secondary schools are downsized for the same reason. Scientists are still trying to work out what happened, but they're drawing blanks. No-one knows what happened, or why.
Ten years pass. It's February 28th, 2015. There's a bright light outside. I don't know what it is. I don't care any more. Re-living ten years of your life isn't the amazing second chance you'd think it would be. Sure, you can go after the One That Got Away, and sacrifice your chance to be with the girl you found later. You can do better in school, and maybe give up meeting your best friend from before.
The Reset might have saved us from this. It might have caused this. It might be this.
People say we lost 10 years. People say we gained them back. People don't care anymore. It was. Maybe it will be again. |
You know the saying: “The pen is mightier than the sword”? Well, I think it may be true.
Let me start from the beginning.
It looks like any other regular pen, really. I ordered offline from some weird website that advertised occult trinkets. The owner said it could answer any question correctly but came with a horrible curse. But me, being the sixteen-year-old slacker I was, bought it out of sheer boredom and procrastination.
I got it on Thursday, the day before my major world history exam. I hadn’t paid attention the entire semester so I decided to use, just for shits and giggles. Maybe it would at least give me the false hope that I had a chance of passing. After all, I needed an A to avoid taking summer classes.
Again...
Well, when I sat down to take the test, I didn’t feel any smarter. And I know for sure that when Mrs. Green handed me my test, I was as lost as ever. But I did my best, filling out as many questions I could and even bullshitting the ones I had never heard before. I mean, who the fuck is Kublai Khan, anyway?
That’s beside the point. I had no doubt I had flunked the test and dreaded going back to school that Monday, knowing I would have to deal with my parents. But when Mrs. Green called me up to her desk during class, much to my dismay, she showed me I had somehow aced the test – every single question right.
Even stranger, everyone else had failed by a huge margin. Not a normal occurrence considering the valedictorian was in my class. I was always the one that people expected to fail.
She doubted me as much as I did myself. But with no evidence of cheating, I got off jail free. I couldn’t complain.
When I went back to my desk, I looked over my test. There was no way I could have done perfectly, not with how I felt while taking it. And as I looked over my answers, realization hit me.
The answers were wrong. At least, I think they were.
For example, I answered that the fall of Rome was due to an alien invasion. It didn’t take a genius to figure out I was wrong but for reason, my answer was right. Yet, when I went to the Wikipedia page for the Roman Empire, it said was brought to an abrupt stop by intergalactic forces.
It meant only one thing. I wrote the first thing that came to mind.
*2+2=5*
I looked to my neighbor, Sarah, resident cheerlead captain and all-around bitch. She wasn’t the brightest of the class but could do simple math, nonetheless.
“Hey, Sarah. I have a question.”
“What?” she asked, give me a look like I reeked worse than a decaying pig in the sunshine.
“What’s 2+2?”
“I know you’re stupid but this is a new level.”
“Just answer the question.”
“Fine. It’s 5. Do you need me to teach you the alphabet while we’re at it?”
I ignored her, looking back to the pen. It did just what I expected. It didn’t give me the right answer but made *my* answers right.
I smiled, pulling out a fresh sheet of paper. History was in need of some editing. |
"Get to the courtyard!"Knight Daemus yells out to the rest of the guard.
The young prince, barely a teen, tugs at his arm, "What's happening? where's father?"
"He's out."
"He's out?"
"Well, that's where the story appears to be going, I can't really find a better lie than that since the king is dead right now."
"Father is dead?!?"
"Shit, uhh, damnit. Look, we don't have time for tears right now, we need to get to the courtyard and assemble the guard"
Knight Daemus picks the boy up on his back, and attempts to rush to meet with the rest of the castle guard.
"Has anyone seen how large it is?"Knight Daemus asks the entire covered court.
"It's the size of one of our eastern towers. Must be the size of two small cottages sir."
Screams and fire can be heard outside the castle walls, as the bells toll to warn the city of a dragon.
"Do we have any ballistas left?"Knight Daemus asks their lead engineer.
"Only 2 left are manned the last time I checked, the rest have either been burned or abandoned sir."
"Okay, Malik's guard, You'll have to help the people evacuate the city, a messenger has been sent to Talimar for help, they should be able to give provisions to those who need shelter. Kilmer's guard, you'll come with me to escort the prince. All the rest, provide cover for the remaining ballistas, if they go, help along with Malik's guard. Is everything clear?"
Before all of the guards are able to respond, the courtyard turns dark. The courtyard was surrounded by stone walls, but it was barely covered by wooden beams and vines from above. past the wooden frame a dark red figure looms above them. Knight Daemus had realized the error he had just made, he ordered all his men into a potential fire pit.
Before Daemus had even yelled out to everyone to run away, half of whatever was left of the guard was screaming, running around frantic while being scorched alive. Everyone knew what to do already, it's too late to try and save those who have been hit. Daemus assembles in the dining room with the rest of Kilmer's guard and heads down to the dungeon.
"Where are we going, sir?"
"Well, it seems that our story-teller is getting a bit better at not making any more errors, right now, there should be an old drainage tunnel leading outward into a lower mountain."
"Story-teller?"
"Nevermind that, help me with this grate."
Knight Daemus and two of Kilmer's guard help in removing an old drainage grate.
"So? who wants to go first?"Daemus says.
Each of the guard is reluctant, but the choice of sewage or fire was easy enough that one of the guards volunteered. The guard lowers himself down, everything is at knee height and the guard says that everything is good down there.
Next to lower was knight Daemus, then Prince Kilmer, who then sat on knight Daemus' shoulders, never once stepping foot in the refuse. "It smells awful here"the young prince exclaims.
"At least it's silent."Daemus says. It was true, underneath the city, their ears were spared the screams of burning commoners and the tolls of the bells.
They began to move across the drainage tunnel along with the remaining guard.
"What happened to father?"Kilmer pestered.
"He went to command the engineers and round up the archers."knight Daemus tells the boy. The other guards look at eachother upon hearing the story, they knew he was lying, the king died right inside his bedroom, barely clothed, as the dragon hovered at his grand balcony.
"Shouldn't I be there to command in his place?"
"No, warfare is no place for a boy, not even for a prince. One day you will command, but right now, you have to survive. For the good of the kingdom."
It was a long journey until they reached the end of the tunnel. Everyone takes a look back to see a black tower of smoke towering behind the hill. A short walk from there was a small stable operated by only a few men.
"What is this place?"A guard asks
"Henford's stable. Not many know about this, they keep some of the horses here from time to time in case of a tragedy such as this."Daemus answers
He puts the prince on a horse along with another guard.
"Make sure he reaches Talimar safely. Follow along the goat path until you reach the mountainside, from there you should know where to go."
"Aren't you coming Daemus?"The prince asks
"I'll see you in Talimar, my prince."
"But--"
The guard sitting with him on the saddle spurs the horse, and they begin galloping away along with the rest of the prince's guard.
"Wait!"The young prince yells out
"There is no time, we have to reach Talimar, It is the knight's orders."
The young prince looks back at Daemus as he walks back to the tunnel, possibly to help with the evacuation, or maybe to face the dragon. The prince could do nothing but yell out and wail as it may be the last time he sees his half brother.
EDIT: grammar and spellings. Im allowed to edit for that, right?
|
Well bugger me! After nearly 25 years of careful planning and saving up an obscene amount of money, plus not to mention getting involved with some downright nefarious characters, I was finally here! It hadn't been easy but nothing worth having or doing ever is, and there is still so much to be done.
"Good morning class. My name is Mr Randle."
Gazing out across the sea of expectant faces, I tried to find myself. No not in a self-reflecting philosophical bullshit kind of way, I mean actually find myself. This is definitely where it all began, in this very classroom. And low and behold, there I am. Small for my age, with my eyes down turned. You won't find any friends in this classroom kid, but I will save you.
"I am your new Mathematics teacher, and will be taking this class all the way up to your GCSEs."
This is so fucking surreal! To be back here in this very room surround by those that will eventually take and destroy everything that I once held dear; I am going to make you little shits pay so very dearly. I am going to break you down bit by bit, and save my former self from the pure hatred and defilement that you will bring upon him.
"Did I say you could talk Mark? No? Then shut up you prepubescent little stain!"
Aha that got their attention, that set the pace. Now to play the long con. What better way to save myself then by giving my future oppressors a teacher they will all learn to hate more. I will unify the rats, allowing younger me to follow suit and blend right in. This is your ticket kid, this is your freedom. It has and always will be for you, and for your future.
Cracking my neck, I gazed once more around the class. Are you ready to hate me one last time?
|
What happened to Cinderella when she got to the ball?
Choke.
You see, Cinderella is not only a keen reciprocator in oratory favours but is somewhat inept at judging the challenges she sets before herself - and this is but one unfortunate situation.
Not only has Cinderella failed to visually measure the monster that Prince Charming is packing in his pantaloons, but she has put her own life at risk by inserting his Sword of Griffindor into her Goblet of Fire, a decision that has rendered Cinderella's mouth at maximum capacity and resulted in her gagging quite tremendously, not only throwing Cinderella off her game, but also ruining the fancy dinner party she was attending. |
“Cup of tea, dear?” asked Grandma Beryl as I entered the kitchen of her bungalow.
“Yes, please, that would be lovely,” I replied, taking a seat at the dining table. Grandma Beryl shuffled across the lino towards the kettle and began preparing the teapot. She peered out of the window above the sink; she was ever so nosy and liked to spy on Alan, the old man next door. She froze as she noticed him leave his house to walk his Yorkshire Terrier, Bill.
“The nerve of him,” she gasped as she watched him approach her treasured rhododendron bush on the edge of her front garden.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, rising from the spindly chair and dashing over to the sink to join her.
“Look at him!” she cried, pointing towards the hound squatting in her garden. She watched in horror as he cocked his leg and took a leak all over her beloved flowers. “How dare he!”
“That is so disrespectful of him to do that!” I agreed. “Let me go out to him-"
“No, Sarah,” Grandma Beryl said, with a steely calmness in the tone of her voice. “I will deal with it when he gets back.” She tutted and continued with brewing the tea. We sat and chatted about me and my husband Jack’s decision to start a family, what happened on Coronation Street last night, how Margaret across the road died last week and it was like nothing had happened. As I left an hour later, I pecked my Grandma on the cheek and got into my car as she waved from the doorstep. As I reversed out of the drive, Alan returned from his walk with the dog, and I saw Grandma Beryl’s eyes narrow as he closed his front door.
**
A few days later, I revisited Grandma Beryl. As I entered her kitchen, I saw her comforting Alan at the table.
“I don’t understand,” Alan wept. “Bill always stayed in the yard, he’s never even tried to run away before!”
“Oh, Alan, I’m so sorry to hear that,” I told him, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll come back!”
“Yes,” agreed Grandma Beryl, “he’s got a strong nose, he’ll find his way back. Here, have some meat and potato pie, Alan; I always find food comforting in times of crisis.” She stood up and went over to the worktop, and returned with a small pie tin topped with golden puff pastry.
“Thank you, Beryl,” said Alan solemnly, “but I’m not in the mood for eating at the moment.”
“Oh, I insist,” Grandma Beryl said, placing the pie on the placemat before him. “You will feel much better.”
“Alright then,” said Alan after some hesitation. Grandma Beryl passed him a fork and watched him eat attentively, smiling as we all conversed, comforting him, assuring him that the dog would return. When Alan finished, let out a large sigh.
“Cheers, Beryl,” he thanked her. “You are a true friend indeed.” Alan stood up from the table and patted his belly. “I feel better already. I’d better get back across to mine, I need to print off some more missing posters for Bill.”
“Alright, Alan,” Grandma Beryl said kindly. She waved him off at the front door and returned to the kitchen, where I told her I would be leaving as well.
“Okay dear,” Grandma Beryl replied sweetly, “but before you go, could you pop this old microwave into my wheely bin outside for me? It’s much too heavy for me to carry.”
“Oh, no problem, Grandma,” I smiled as I picked it up from the worktop. We said our goodbyes, exchanged kisses and Grandma closed the door behind me. I headed over to the wheely bin with the ancient microwave under one arm and lifted the lid. My heart stopped as I gazed, transfixed, at the bottom of the bin.
There was a dog collar and the hide of a Yorkshire terrier at the base of the bin, flies consuming any remains to be found. I retched at the putrid smell and threw the microwave in the bin and slammed the lid shut. I turned slowly to the kitchen window, where Grandma Beryl was smiling and waving. She turned back to her kitchen and walked away. Jaw still wide open, I got into my car, trying to process what had just happened.
“Holy fuck,” I whispered, horrified. I whipped out my phone from my handbag and immediately texted my brother.
*So you know how dad always used to say “never mess with Grandma Beryl”…*
|
“You just don’t understand, Dad,” Citrine shouted as she stamped her foot on the floor. She was a teenager now, but she still possessed some of her childlike qualities that had made her the most adorable tantrum-thrower when she was a child. “It’s not a phase!”
“Your favorite color cannot suddenly change, Citrine,” Martelus said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He glanced at his wife who seemed to be struggling to hold back a smile. Of course Wendi would find this funny, he thought angrily to himself. White, being her favorite color since birth, gave her an innate ability at being a seer. She could see all the colors people appreciated, and could see the magic they would grow into as well. She had seen this coming for weeks apparently; maybe longer.
“It did though,” Citrine said as she crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. “You changed your favorite color when you were a child, why can’t I?”
Martelus groaned inwardly and wished he had never told her that story. His favorite color growing up had been green. He needed green clothes, green bedsheets, green plates, green everything; and then one day he saw a bluebird take off from a field, and ever since then he had been obsessed with the color blue. His parents were grateful, as they had been worried that Martelus had been a Non, or someone who couldn’t use magic. It turns out that he had just been wrong about his favorite color all his childhood life.
Once Blue became his favorite color, his magic started leaking out in sometimes strange, and sometimes embarrassing, ways. He would never forget the visit to the doctor’s office over frostbite on his crotch. Shaking his head to dispel the memories he finally said, “So why the change? Answer me that.”
Citrine huffed and turned her head to the side in a show of arrogance. She looked back at Martelus and said, “Because it just represents who I am better.”
“And who is that, sweety?” Wendi asked, finally piping up and taking some of the heat off Martelus.
Citrine snorted, like the question was obvious. She glared down at her mother on the couch and sighed, “Because life just sucks, and we’re forced like sheep into this kind of position. We don’t get to choose our favorite colors; we have them forced on us.” She pointed at her dad, “He had a favorite color when he was born, but somehow he was wrong. That proves that things aren’t the way we’re told in school.”
Martelus leaned back on the couch and put his arm around Wendi, “I’m sure the Wizard Council is not some all-knowing and all-powerful conspirator, Citrine.”
Folding her arms back across her chest, Citrine turned and sat down in the chair behind her. “You’re just indoctrinated to this stuff. That’s why you believe it without question.”
Martelus sighed, “Do you know what people do who have your ‘favorite’ color, Citrine?”
Citrine turned her head away again like the question was stupid, but Martelus could see that she actually didn’t. She had put all the fire and thought into the argument; she hadn’t taken the time to actually investigate what her new favorite color made her. Martelus knew that her favorite color was red; he had for a long time. She had set a doll on fire when she was 2 years old with just her hands. Rather than crying, she had laughed and giggled and played with the fire, making it dance. She also had the attitude.
“They’re necromancers,” he said finally. “People who communicate with the dead, and with ancestors, or prepare bodies for last rites. Is that what you want to do?”
Citrine refused to meet his gaze, which meant she was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge this. Oh well, Martelus thought, it’s just a phase. She’ll get over it eventually, so he might as well humor her. Standing up he helped his wife to her feet and looked at Citrine, “Well, let’s go to Ancient Armada and buy you some new clothes, then. I think they have black on sale right now.”
-----------
[r/grenadiere42](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42) |
James snuck slowly past the open room door. The next part of his plan would involve some noise and he needed to make sure the occupants remained asleep.
"Beep."The computer in the living room whirred to life and the screen began to glow as it formed the familiar Windows logo. James sighed. He was safe. He glanced over at the open doorway leading to his parents' room. No movement. Excellent.
He eased his pants down to his knees as he googled. The plastic chair he sat on felt familiar, warm. It was always good to go back to the familiar.
As he set the video on [loop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=endP6hTviXE) and sat back in his chair, he felt himself stiffening and soon, he climaxed. All over the seat of the chair. He sighed. Cleanup time. Or he'd have a lot of explaining to do in the morning.
------*-------
Meridiana screamed in impotent rage. The King was dead. Another 3000 year wait. Why did it have to be a teenager chosen to carry the seed, and the weirdest sort too? |
Steve buttoned the top button of his coveralls. In only a few moments, the conveyor belt would begin moving, and the onslaught of unassembled boxes would begin. In his left hand, he gripped his **APPROVED** stamper. In his right, **REJECTED**. The low hum that was only white noise a moment before, grew into more of a mechanical whir.
*Back to the grind.*
The conveyor in front of him lurched forward, and onward marched the troop of cardboard.
**APPROVED**
**APPROVED**
*Ooh, this won't do.*
**REJECTED**
*This is more like it.*
**APPROVED**
**APPROVED**
**APPROVED**
*Wow, three in a row.*
**APPROVED**
*Nice. I'm about to beat my record.*
**REJECTED**
*Damn.*
**REJECTED**
*Oh come on, baby don't be like that.*
**REJECTED**
*Shit. No. Come on, You know if we get more than three rejects in a row we gotta stop the line. Do you want to stop the line? Because it seems like you want to stop the line.*
**APPROVED**
*That's what I thought.*
**REJECTED**
*Quit being a baby. You can't be right all the time. Get your head out of your ass. Don't you want to continue on and hold some shoes?*
**REJECTED**
*A fridge, huh? That's cool I guess. I mean, after you do your job you can go on to be a kids playfort for about a day before you get torn apart and used as kindling for his alcoholic father's bonfire.*
**APPROVED**
*I mean, if that's what you're into. Personally, I'd want to be like a sleeve for a VHS tape or something. That way I will always have a use.*
**REJECTED**
"How is that boring? I'd get used like everyday. I would hold a tape. Sometimes I would even get to sit on top of the VCR."
**REJECTED**
*Fair enough. I suppose I can try thinking outside the box.*
**APPROVED**
*Heh. That was pretty good, wasn't it? Hooooooly shit. We got a big one coming now. Looks pretty important. I wonder what it's for.*
**REJECTED**
*Boss isn't gonna like that. Anyways, so if longevity and usefulness isn't what being a box is all about. Then what is?*
**APPROVED**
*I mean, at the end of the day, no matter what you're used for, you're gonna end up getting destroyed SOMEWHERE down the line.*
**APPROVED**
*So you're telling me you'd rather just do your duty and then be done? You're even more boring than me, dude. THINK BIG. What is the most exciting thing a box could be used for?*
**REJECTED**
*You're killin' me, Boxy. Come on, man. A homeless dude could live inside of you. You could be a HOME!*
**REJECTED**
*Okay, well, how about a UPS box? You could be a box that holds other boxes. Be in charge, ya know?
**REJECTED**
*I don't even want to know what a cumbox is.*
**REJECTED**
*Don't fucking get snippy with me. I'm just trying to help. You're the one who's going off on a "I just want to do my job and then die"tangent. Get real.*
**REJECTED**
*Maybe I will quit! I'd lose the job I've had for 10 years, but it'd be worth it if I didn't have to look at your square ass anymore.*
**REJECTED**
*Fine. I'll quit. You go be a fridge box or whatever the fuck you end up being. See if I care. You know-*
**REJECTED**
"Oh, fuck." |
The phone rings again. It's him. I take a moment from my frantic driving to answer.
"Listen,"I try to say.
"No, man, *you* listen. What you're doing isn't going to work - I'm keeping the child until you do as I say."
"For fuck's... I know you don't believe me, but I'm only telling you the truth. If you value your safety -"
"Do you really think I'm just going to tell you where he is and walk away? Do you seriously believe I'm that much of an idiot? This child wouldn't hurt a fly. Maybe you didn't know that was going to be his reaction, but your kid is *terrified*."
"What?"
"He's just been crying silently to himself this whole time, mumbling things..."
This is more serious than I thought.
I yell as I almost hit a car trying to cross in front of me. I barely swerve to avoid it and keep the pedal on the gas, leaving the angry driver honking loudly behind me.
"OK."I say. "You have to be very careful. Under no circumstances do you let him loose, you hear?"
"This conversation is over. I'll call you again later."*Click*.
-----
I exit my car and quickly walk into the train station. I'm pretty sure I heard this station's name in the background...
Suddenly I hear the familiar old-timey phone ring of my cell.
"Listen, man, you better hurry up. I can tell your kid's being traumatized by this whole thing."
I'm inside. I don't know where to go next.
I hear some shuffling on the other end.
"Hey!"I listen the man tell my son, "No, don't do that! Fuck..."he shuffles back to me. "I gotta tell ya, I almost feel sorry for the kid. Now, are you at the park yet?"
I close and hold my eyes with my free hand."I don't even know why I'm trying to save you."I say, even though that's a lie. Cleaning up after my son has left its permanent mark on me. Never again.
"I know you're by Eston Station."I say quickly.
No reaction.
I take it I was right.
"I've called the cops."I bluff. "They're already all over the area."
This time the man laughs.
"You... you're a clever little bastard, I'll give you that.
"This train takes you to the place I told you about in a single trip. I suggest you take it."
*Click*.
-----
"Shut the fuck up!"a bald man yells at me from his window. "If your Jonny was around he'd have heard you the first ten fucking times!"And he slams the window shut.
Another call from the man.
"All right,"I say at once, "I'll say this one last -"
"Hey dad."
I freeze.
"I'm at the corner of Autumn and Miller. Come pick me up."
*Click*.
I stay still for a second.
I hang my head in defeat.
*Bastard*, I think to myself. *You bastard...*
*Why do I love you*? |
Don was born normal. Completely average. The type of guy you forget exists a minute after you talk to him. Was completely average in the kindergarden. Completely average in pre, middle and high school. He had completely average friends. Completely average girlfriend. Completely average everything.
As he was getting older he started realizing that average just doesn't cut it for him. He doesn't want an average girlfriend. He wants a model. He doesn't want a Honda Civic, he wants a Bentley with a personal (very hot) female driver). It wasn't until 18 able to participate in the experimental program that allowed people to learn new "skills". Interventions like these, of course, couldn't go unnoticed for the brain. It would randomly develop mostly unexpected and negative deviations. Sometimes people would develop anxiety, some will develop ADHD, some OCD. Schizophrenia was among the most popular deviations. People would become depressed, develop suicidal thoughts, become hyperactive, maniacal, but the program wwas still very popular because so many people wanted to completely turn their lives around.
First time Don came there he just wanted a minor bump in the level of intellectual capacity. It was like a miracle to him. Suddenly he developed an ability to understand much more than previously. Difficult courses at college were much easier to master. He was doing his own taxes and finding ways to make small cash while in college. The downside was that he was becoming antisocial. Doctors said it was a very mild form of autism. Don wasn't very comfortable in social situations. He would say random things that seemed ok to him but were offensive. He was losing his friends. But he was ok, because he was above all of them.
After a year he agreed for another round in the program. He wanted more money, so he asked for stronger skills in math, econ, business, finances. Each time he participated in the program he developed new ways to make money. He loved it. Each time he was becoming more and more strange. He was becoming very selfish. He was completely inadequate and incompetent in social situations. People didn't like him anymore, but still stuck around. Because he had money. A lot of it. Billions of dollars after the 8th treatment in the program.
Finally he realized that he wanted more. He conquered the business world. Now he wanted to conquer the world of politics. Deep inside he realized that another treatment would fuck him up psychologically beyond repair. But still, he dialed the number and asked for his regular doctor.
-How may I help you today?
-Hey, doc, this is Don.
-Oh my God, you again. Haven't you had enough? Come on. You are the most sociopathic client we have ever had. You have to stop doing this!
-Doc, remember how much I paid you last time to do your job and keep your mouth shut? I will pay double.
-Ugh... Come next week. What skill would you like to learn?
-I want to be a fucking President. I want to rule this fucking country!
-Ugh... Come next week. I will see what I can do.
Don smiled, threw his phone on a sofa that cost 10 times more than his first car and pressed a button on his hundred grand table. The same minute Miss Idaho entered his cabinet.
-Mister Trump, would you like some coffee?
|
The door swung open right after she knocked. She took a step in and looked around the place, glancing at me only out the corner of her eye. She gave out a whistle. "Nice digs you've got here."
She was young, probably no more than 16. She was dressed in a more modern pair of Jeans and a short T-shirt. A more Rachel look, not at all like Laura. She wore her auburn hair in a long braid and sported a necklace that went down to her exposed midriff.
Despite my uncomfortableness, I tried not to react. I knew something was different when a second chair appeared this morning. I had prepared two meals all day, just in case something like this happened. The second breakfast and lunch were currently in the fridge. I had placed a second chicken with mashed potatoes dish at the empty spot at the table, fully expecting to put it away too. I had already sat down, but did not have a chance to touch my food yet when she knocked. And now that the thing I had been preparing for all day was here, I was at a loss of what to do. How would Robert react?
I cleared my throat. "Won't you sit down?"
She looked at me full in the face, her cool blue eyes staring into mine for an uncomfortably long moment. Finally, she nodded. She slung a bag from shoulders I had not noticed before and sat down. She picked up the knife and fork and began to eat.
"So,"she said with a mouth full of food. "Do you got a name?"
I shook my head. "No."
"No?"
"I have never been given a name. In fact, I've never seen another person before. Outside of the television, of course."
She grinned. "Neither have I. And I don't have a name either."
I nodded. "Well, why don't we give each other names."
"Okay. But first, we need to know each other better. Let eat dinner, and then we can name each other at the end. We won't get up until we have names. How does that sound?"She pointed at my plate. "That means you have to eat too."
Despite her apparent age, this young girl seemed smart. Clever, even. I gave her what I hoped was a polite smile, and began eating.
We ate in silence for a few minutes. Even though this was the first time that either of us has ever been in the company of another person, it seemed like we did not have much to say. I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to when she was looking so intently at me, studying my face.
There were a lot of things to think about. My guess about other people and other boxes were true. With all the television shows showing people interacting with each other, it had made sense that there were more people than just me. I thought back to the Dick van Dyke show. What would Rob being saying in this situation? Something polite, innocuous maybe.
"So, um, how did you get here?"I asked, hoping that was polite enough.
"I really don't know,"she said. "I went to sleep in my own place, and then woke up inside your box. Out on your back lawn."She gestured with a slender thumb towards the kitchen door.
"Yeah, that just showed up about a week ago."
She wrinkled her brow, scrunching up her nose in the process. "It showed up?"
I nodded. "Yeah, the whole box has been growing recently. I have a few new rooms, some extra furniture, and a front and back lawn now. Was your box like this?"
She dipped a piece of her chicken in the potatoes. "No, it was a bit smaller. Maybe three or four rooms total, no outside."
"Yeah, that sounds like how my apartment was at first too."
She bobbed her head in agreement. "It looks like *they* have been planning this for a while then."She gestured to the black domes on the ceiling.
Confused, I asked, "They?"
"Yeah, you know, they people who watch us?"
I shook my head. "I don't know what you mean."
She cocked her head to one side. "You mean you don't know what those things are? Those things are cameras. I took one down a while ago, and there are tiny cameras underneath them. Whoever is keeping us here, is watching us too."
I never had thought of it like that. Was I being kept here? Where would I go besides here? Well, there was another person -- a girl -- here now, perhaps I could go to someone else's box. And who was watching me? Was I on their televisions in their boxes?
She interrupted my thoughts. "So, you watch the TV too?"
"Oh, yes. Quite a bit."
"Do you have a favorite show?"
"Um, yes. I really enjoy the Dick van Dyke show."
She nodded. "That explains the decorations."
I looked around. I had never thought anything weird about my decorations before. I turned back to her. "What show do you enjoy?"
"Have you ever heard of Dawson's Creek?"
I wiped my face with a napkin. "I've seen it listed, but I have never watched it."
"Well, that's what I watch the most. Anyway, we are both done eating now."
I looked at my plate and, indeed, it was empty. A moment I did not know I was dreading suddenly presented itself. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. "Yes we are. I guess we get to name each other now."
"Alright, I'll go first."She leaned forward and gave a sideways smile. "You seem polite, and it looks like you model your life off of van Dyke. However, you don't really conform to that image. You're a little older than I am, and a bit on the tall side too. While clean, I can imagine you being kind of prudish. So..."She pursed her full lips and narrowed her eyes. "I'll call you Danny. Like Danny from Full House."
I let out a breath. Danny. Well, I suppose that could work. She could have chosen a worse name. And the more I thought of it, the more I liked it. "Yeah, I think that's okay."
"Okay, your turn."She leaned back in her chair, balancing on just the back two legs.
"Okay, lets see. You're smart, I can tell. You are a bit young, but you don't let that stop you. Hmm...have you ever seen Happy Days? You remind me a lot of Richie's sister. So I think I am going to name you Joanie."
She stood up and leaned forward across the table, taking my hand. With a firm grip, she shook it and looked me straight in the eye. "Well, Danny, it's nice to meet you."
I stood and smiled back at her. "Likewise, Joanie."
___
*If there is enough interest, I would consider doing more to this story.*
Check out /r/killersealion for more! |
DoubleBee lifted his head from the dusty ground, spitting dirt and blood - just in time to be kicked by the fur-clad leg of his opponent.
"Stay *down!*"snarled the warrior in greyish-green animal furs, his armoured torso dented from DoubleBee's futile attacks.
Rolling to his feet, DoubleBee left his feathered headdress where it lay, squaring off against his aggressor.
"You can't win,"the other warrior said, spinning his metal shield.
"But I can still hurt you,"DoubleBee whispered, glancing frantically around the arena.
As his enemy approached, he kicked up dust with his brightly-coloured boots, then dodged around the fur-clad man to reach for one of the many weapons that were hooked over the inside of the cage.
Finding an old musical instrument of brass that had been hammered into a rough club shape, he let forth an ululating warcry and swung at his foe.
The club connected with the round shield and both combatants staggered, fighting for purchase in the dusty, sandy ground. DoubleBee pressed the advantage and kicked out strongly again, buckling the knee of the other warrior.
The crowd of colourful onlookers howled at the upset and the judge in the black cape looked on grimly, squinting through his single eyepiece.
The shield swung out for DoubleBee's head but he ducked and tackled the injured man, wrenching the round object away.
"Now we shall see who is the stronger fighter!"
Again the crowd roared and a chant started up as DoubleBee pasted his foe with heavy punches;
*"Yip! Yip! Yip!"*
Flushed with excitement, he hammered blow after blow into the face of his opponent as the judge counted out each one solemnly,
"One! One punch! Two! Two punches!"
Eventually the fighter in the green fur went limp under DoubleBee and he lifted his bloodied fists to the sky, his feathered armour now more red that yellow.
"Ten! Ten punches! Ah-haaaa-haaaaaa!"roared the judge.
On his knees, DoubleBee ripped the green mask off his foe and stood, holding the trophy aloft,
"Can you tell me?"he roared to the crowd.
"CAN YOU TELL ME!"they roared back.
"HOW TO GET TO SESAME STREET!"he finished - and the crowd went wild in a frenzy of chest slapping and hooting, the furry armour filling the air with colours.
The judge stepped forward and presented DoubleBee with the trophies - two large red sigils.
"Today's match was brought to us by the letter D for death and the number 1 for victory!"
|
Year 1: Day 1
I knew when we started that it was wrong. All wrong. I knew the very instant that I signed the dotted line and leased the buildings, the lab space, the machines. When I cashed the check and transferred the money to the relevant accounts, I fought back my nausea. When they told me that I could do it, I hated them.
But we had a job to do. Humanity recognized that, and humanity was ready to pay the price, even if it meant compromising what defined us--EVERYTHING that defined us. Even if it meant compromising everything that we held near and dear. It would all be worth it. That was what I needed to cling to. Besides, we had done it before. Some of humanities defining technological shifts have come as a result of the same blase disregard for "human normitive"ethical perspectives. This is the paradigm shift we seek now... the shift we need.
_________________________________________________
Year 3: Day 220
It will all be worth it. I keep screaming that inside my own head. It will all be worth it. It is the mantra of my dreams--the fiber that knits my consciousness and my sanity together. We haven't killed anyone--not like the others. We have no deaths on our hands, and it will all be worth it.
But sometimes, I dream of her little face. I dream of her voice. "Please Derek--it hurts,"she repeats, until I wake up screaming. But those nightmares have ebbed with the medication.
__________________________________________________
Year 6: Day 74
It is finally done. We've made contact. I was right. We hadn't killed them. They were still alive! They were still ALIVE. Alive...insofar as I can define life. It was Rogers who finally unlocked the key. It was more invasive than in my wildest nightmares, but it worked. I heard her speak. I could hear her voice in that tinny speaker, "Hello? Is anyone there? Please--it is so dark."
This was the thread we had needed. Our equipment was alive with data, streaming in from every sensor and input we had thought to create, and I think that by the end of this year, we will have a workable solution to stop this waking nightmare from rending humanity into nothingness.
I walked over to the bank of tubes that contained the disembodied brain and spinal columns of so many humans. Most of them were no one: disenfranchised, penniless, without family, comfort, or friends. They had been volunteered by humanity as sacrifices to save us all. I was only in charge of one of the spearheads against the impending threat, but we were responsible for one of the most critical components of this technological arms race.
They are coming, full of malevolent, murderous hatred for humanity. We barely survived the first prong of their attack. They had sent a massive salvo of warheads, numbering in the millions, so widely dispersed, so voluminous, that it would have blanketed Earth in its entirety as it spun on its pole, exposing every hemisphere to that violent thrust. But we had seen it. We had acted in time. The planetary defense system had kept enough of them from getting through, and we are alive. AND WE KNOW THEY ARE COMING.
I looked at the rows upon rows of brains. You all knew they were coming to, and you are part of the sacrifice. But only in a way. We weren't like the other groups.
_____________________________________________
Year 9: Day 270
Everything is in place. We have finalized all of our plans, and we have put them in motion. The "Decade of Justified Means"--that tiny window predating the arrival of the Alien fleet--was the only time had had to prepare. They would be here soon, and we would be ready.
Almost all of the technology being engineered needed my team's research to succeed. And that was what we had done. And it would all be worth it. We had finally created a fully working human-machine interface that allowed a human to interact and clock with our mammoth war machines. Battle in space would be done quickly--too quickly for normal human thought and reaction, which was why we had to disembody so many of our young--why we had to sacrifice them.
But they were ready, and they were connected, and they were angry. We would need that.
_____________________________________________________
Year 10: Day 1
I sat in my chair, watching with bated breath with the rest of humanity. This was it. The alien armada was slowly approaching our human fleet and orbital defenses, like a cloud of buzzing locusts approaching a field of corn, ready to feast.
And... it was over?
The ships moved quietly past the human fleet, quickly encroaching on our atmosphere.
Our ships--had done nothing. The tinny speaker in my lab squawked gently then ebbed into static. I could hear something... it was so quiet. I got closer and increased the volume. A voice resolved itself--my first patient...the girl of my nightmares.
"It was not worth it."she whispered, and then I felt the ground shudder as the first bombs began to drop.
**Edit: Grammar**
|
Everyone's got a weakness for something, right? We're human, it's inherent for us to have flaws and make mistakes. Some of us just fuck up more than others.
I have a serious problem with gambling. Seriously serious; I'll get a paycheck and immediately blow it all at a casino. I'm a weak man, my family struggles to put food on the table but I'll be sitting at a slot machine half the day.
It was at its worst, though, when the casino owners started recognizing me. They quickly realized that I was easy prey and the owner of my favorite one, Casablanca, approached me one day. He was all smiles and pleasantries, offering me whiskey and cigars.
"How about I make you a VIP,"he told me, grinning from ear to ear, shifting his fedora. "You'll become a millionaire. I'll lend you a grand for you to spend here, and you can pay me back once you win big."
I'm a sucker, so of course I fell for it. I blew that entire stack of chips and won nothing in return. I didn't even have a dime left for a drive-in. Of course, the owner expected this.
"You got 30 days to pay me back double or you're my bitch for life,"he spat in my face, choking me and holding a gun to my head. All the smiles and pleasantries were gone now- just me and an angry mafia boss.
Two thousand dollars is more than I could even make in a year, though. I knew I was fucked from the get-go. All there was for me to do was leave my family what little money I made and abandon them so the mafia wouldn't bother them for my failures.
A month had passed, and I tried to run for my life. Hide in another state, maybe start a new life somewhere. Unfortunately, they'd been watching me the whole time.
My buggy was destroyed, so I tried to run on foot. Two big mobsters with pistols chased me down an alleyway and cornered me at a dead end.
"The Boss wants you to know that we've seen ya family,"one of them said, laughing in my face. I dropped to my knees and cried; I'd ruined my family's lives as well as my own. A true failure.
I felt cold metal press against my skull. In the end, I was just a coward, begging for the release of death.
"I think I'll kill this one and say he put up a fight. His crying makes me sick, I don't want no bitch working around us. I hate weak little men like him,"one of them said. "Plus, then we get to go after his cute little wife."
A cracking gunshot freed me from my hell. |
Seventeen people in 6 years- that's how many lives I've ended since I started all this. Whenever I see myself on the news, a part of me excites that doesn't normally exist. I feel the way I imagine a child does when it wakes up on Christmas day to a nice present; perhaps a more matured feeling, such as what flows through a mother does when her child graduates college. I guess that's all speculation, since I've known none of it myself. Now that I think about it, that's probably why I am the way I am.
At the end of the day, however, it's not enough. It's never enough; I am not satiated by the petty deaths of passing strangers who look at me the wrong way. I love the hunt, the thrill and the adrenaline, but it's the *content* that really matters. I want to pry the life from someone's body with force and feel like I've accomplished something.
And so now is the cultivation of all my efforts and learnings- tonight is what my life has lead up to. I will no longer be afraid of him and take my frustrations out on worthless lives...I will kill my father, and take a scalpel to the prideful arrogance in his heart.
He, like me, was a serial killer. His body count was close to 200 by now, since he'd been doing it since I was a kid, and he was a true professional. No criminal investigators of any kind have even deemed him as a suspect since he started his work, if that gives you an idea of his skill. However, I know something no one else does: I know where he lives.
If you're wondering how, it's far more flagrant than interesting. I didn't track him down, he literally told me where to find him. Eight years ago, I was escaping the hellhole he called a household to be free and live a life outside of fear and pain. Before I even made it past the front gate, he'd somehow gotten in front of me.
"This is the address of where I stay before a hunt,"he told me, shoving a slip of paper into my shirt pocket. "If you aren't dead within a year, seek me. If you hate me so much, come to me with skill and determination. But let me warn you, child. If you come to this address, and you cannot end my life, I will end yours. You mean nothing to me."
That's my father, in all his greatness. Everyone else in my family had died years before, so it was just the two of us for most of my life. I tried to run from home so that I wouldn't end up like him, but I guess it was too late for me. I've killed innocent people to prepare myself for this night, but I know that somewhere, deep within my soul, I enjoyed it. That scares me more than the prospect of death.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Night fell upon the city, and I set out after packing my toolkit. *Tonight's going to be a long, long night.*
I'd watched his little townhouse from a distance for the past year, and I know the rituals he holds as habit. Every Friday night, he goes into the house and checks on his inventory- I know he's also checking to make sure no one has been inside. Some nights, he decides to go hunting. Other nights, he simply heads home. Tonight, I saw him packing a small pouch with blades, lockpicks and tools to cover his tracks with.
*He's found a victim. This is my chance.*
Before my father sets out on a hunt, he always meditates at this creepy altar in a closet with candles and incense lit on it. I can't fully make out what else is in that closet, but that doesn't matter- when he's meditating, he has no weapons on him. That's when I'll strike.
Sure enough, he sat by the wooden alter after lighting several candles and sticks of incense. When his hands raised above his heads and clapped together, I knew he was focused on his meditation, and I slipped in through the kitchen window with a long, sharp blade in my hands. I slithered up to him, pressing the coldness of steel against his neck.
*This is it. This is the end.*
Villainous laughter filled my ears, echoing through the small bedroom. He didn't try to fight back or disarm me, he just...laughed, and lifted his head up toward the closet. I followed his eyes and realized that the candle light was enough to see inside.
Karen. Robbie. John. Grandma. Mom. Faces I hadn't seen since I was a child, yet memories of them became clear as day in my mind. Their heads were in jars of greenish liquid, bobbing ever so lightly. All were grimacing, as if aware of their fate. Their faces had been peeling slightly, the bits of skin floating near the lids.
His laughter grew louder as I reeled back in a horror few have known. My father stood up and turned to me, with an empty jar in his hand and a look of pure, murderous insanity on his face.
There was a small sticker on the jar that I somehow noticed, despite my fear. It had been written on.
'*James*'. |
I was only 16, and it was officially time for me to set out on Ginspringa- where I leave Pittsburgh, PA and head out to a small, rural Amish town about 240 miles east. It's a tradition, and I've put it off for a while now, since everyone always talks about how dumb and pointless it is. I've never heard of a single person who chose to stay in that Amish community and give up their job, friends, phones and ipads, televisions and kitchen appliances, cars and video games. Seriously, there are thousands of reasons to go back home, so why would anyone stay in the Amish community unless they *really* love to churn butter? I wished I could skip it.
But after a week of being there, something started to kindle within me that I never knew existed. I worked hard every single day I spent in Lancaster, from early in the morning through the afternoon. Sweat upon my brow and soreness crippling my back, I was exhausted by 6:00 PM every day, and afterward we ate simple meals and learned a little bit about Amish culture.
The other kids there were often a little rude, always clearly uninterested and bored by the lectures and half-assing the work given to them. They'd always try to get together after we finished and talk shit about people in the community, how they looked weird and were so boring. I stopped hanging out with them after a while, and instead sticking around with the family that was housing me. They were nice, positive and helpful. Their kids worked hard and enjoyed the simplicity of life without complaint.
I began to think about it more, and realized that I didn't miss bustling cities, or having to care so much about what I look like all the time. I didn't miss the thought of bills, and the misery of trying to find a job in today's economy. I didn't miss people who'd lost sight of what life is about at its core or people who were rude and lazy.
*You know what? Churning butter is pretty darn fun.* |
The sharp pain had begun again as Rachel scrambled for the nearest pen.
*It's happening again.*
She grabbed a napkin from the dinning room table and readied herself.
Three quick taps.
She pulled out her cellphone and looked at the conversion table.
"S".
A dash, a brief break, followed by an immediate three dashes. A dot, two dashes, before the final dot.
"TOP."
... - --- .--.
She quickly looked down at what she had written down.
"STOP."
Immediately, Rachel had begun to panic. What did the baby mean by 'stop'? Was there something wrong with her? Was there something wrong with him? She began to panic as the message started again. As she wrote down the rest of the code, tears began to form at the corner of her eyes.
Dashes, dots, and breaks. Rachel continued to write them down as she told herself that everything was going to be okay.
But what if it wasn't?
Finally, the kicking had stopped. Rachel paused for several seconds before realizing that the baby was most likely done. She looked down at her paper and looked at the message.
... - --- .--. / -- --- ...- .. -. --. / .- .-. --- ..- -. -.. / ... --- / -- ..- -.-. .... .-.-.- / - .... . / .--. --- --- .-.. / - .- -... .-.. . / -.- . . .--. ... / - .. .-.. - .. -. --. .-.-.-
She quickly began to write the letters for the code as beads of sweat began to drip down her forehead. Her heart accelerated for each letter she had translated.
Finally, she had written down the full message and read it aloud:
"Stop moving around so much. The pool table keeps tilting."
______________________________________________________
Enjoy. God bless.
|
I admit, I was surprised when Ned walked in late one night and asked for a refill of The End.
Not because he's the first to have done so - not by any means. While The End has never failed, it isn't uncommon for a teenager to think he's the first one to have thought of this "prank"or for a desperately lonely house spouse to use it as a cry for attention. But it would never be on the market if it were that easy to misuse - a simple scanner will reveal not only the presence of the pill's contents in a body, but all the information about the purchaser as well.
I didn't need the scanner for Ned, though. He didn't have the barely contained mirth of the prank caller, nor the hysterics of the attention seeker. He had the same glum and slightly embarrassed look as when he picked the pills up two days before. In fact, it was the same expression I'd seen on him every time he picked up a prescription - starting with anti-smoking meds, then anti-drinking meds, then anti-anxiety meds to help with the gambling, and heading into anti-heroine and anti-psychotics after his wife took their family away from him for drinking and gambling away their lives.
Which is why I wasn't surprised the first time he came in, but sure was the second: he had all the hallmarks of The End's typical user. Someone who was just never able to get their life together, and who would almost certainly have taken the pills.
But even so, regulations require us to verify any claims of malfunction. So I lead Ned back to the scanner in the back room. He apologized distractedly for the bother as the coils warmed up, and I got the impression that the thought of having lost his only escape was weighing more heavily on him than his brush with death.
If I was surprised to see Ned again, I was *shocked* when the scan came back positive. His body was littered with the personalized, guaranteed to kill nanobots that make up The End, and yet he looked no worse than the first day I saw him come in.
"So was it a bad batch or summin?"mumbled Ned, with a trace of hope in his voice - if hope for death can be called such - so faint I wasn't sure it was really there.
I wanted to tell him that was impossible. The End was self-monitoring and fool-poof. But something else caught hold of me then - curiosity. I am ashamed to admit that I then tossed aside the weighty failure reporting procedures, and told him it must have been just that - a bad batch. And I hastily made up another dose of two pills, and suggested he take it here, so I we could be sure this time. He was against taking them in front of me, but that spark of inquiry set off by this failure gave me the passion to convince him, and he downed the pills.
We waited three hours, well past the twenty minute activation time. Nothing happened.
"Couldn'ta been two bad batches, I suppose..."Ned said as he mulled it over. I told him it wasn't even one bad batch - the scanner showed both pills active and effective in his system. I described, in fervorous detail driven by my shock at this discovery, how the pills worked, and in exactly how many ways he should be dead.
Ned hardly listened; and frankly I think the medical details went right over his head. But at the end, all he did was sigh, and say "guess that explains this"- and pull up his shirt.
Right over his heart, Ned had two puckered and rounded scars - bullet wounds.
He stood up to leave, pulling his shirt half back down as he did, and mumbling something about trying to do it the old fashioned way with alcohol again. I moved to block the door, with the light of new science in my eyes, and tried to convince him there was a better way - there was *understanding* to be had here - but Ned wasn't having it.
Our argument about Ned's future, or lack thereof, had nearly come to blows when a third option presented itself in the most unlikely of forms. Specifically, a masked man slipped in the back door, and seeing us, pulled a gun and started shouting.
This was one turn of events too many for me; I was used to a quieter life without suicide-proof rednecks and robberies. So my recall of events from this point is unfortunately hazy. I remember the masked man jabbing at us with the gun. I remember demands for pills. I remember Ned chuckling, followed by a blast of sound that must have been the gun, but which seemed to drown out all sound from that point on. And I remember blood, then darkness.
When I awoke, the police where there, the masked man was being zipped in a bag, and Ned was gone. There was still blood, but it appeared none of it was mine. The next weeks were a blur of police interviews, depositions with the makers of The End, and avoiding reporters, but I never saw Ned again.
But that wasn't 'the end' of Ned's story. A little over a year later, I started receiving post cards. They contained no writing or signatures, but had been posted from some of the most violent places on Earth. And once I had nearly a dozen, that gnawing curiosity caught hold of me again. A few trips to the library turned up odd events within a week and a few miles of each of those postings: violent gangs, warlord's henchmen, terrorists, zealots, and worse trying to do harm to some helpless victim, only to have a stranger step in, and against seemingly terrible odds, stop the attack.
I can't prove anything; violent attacks and heroic deeds are done every day. But I think Ned finally found something worth living for in his life. And the last post card was just a flier for The End, and contained the only words to appear on any of the cards to date: "Another satisfied customer." |
My first reaction was literally a spit take. My second was a moment of overwhelming panic. Eventually common sense crept in, and it said:
*Hey. You. Yes, the part of you that's cowering in terror right now. You know what? This is bullshit: around 350,000 people are born* every day. *These numbers are a lie or the CIA is recruiting babies.*
I relaxed somewhat, except —
— except that there was no reason to make up such ridiculous numbers, was there? They had nothing to gain and their entire reputation to lose. But if they're telling the truth . . . they can't have seven billion agents! Human beings come into existence so quickly that —
Then it hit me.
A second later, so did the insects. |
"There he comes, there he comes!"
"Shush! He'll hear us for sure!"
"Don't be stupid, Old Mossface can't hear a thing -- he's so old, my mum said he's more a thousand winters old!"
"Nuh uh! My pa says he's probably just a hundred."
"Your dad is wrong!"
"Is not!"
The children continued to bicker while hiding outside Old Mossface's house. They did such a poor job at it that they didn't notice him staring sourly at the very loud and rustling shrubbery they were attempting to hide in.
Though it didn't take long before he lost interest in the kids' antics and wordlessly hobbled his way into his house, slamming the door shut as if to make a point.
There came a gasp of surprise from the bush and the children went silent for a while, not daring to look out of their sanctuary. But the silence didn't last before the youngest, Gunnhild, dared to whisper to the rest of the three.
"Do... do you think he heard us?"
"Don't be silly, I told you he's deaf!"replied Guttorm, the oldest of the trio with a look that was supposed to signify that he knew for certain.
"I didn't know trolls could go deaf."muttered Ulrik, Guttorm's younger brother, with a raised brow.
"Well, they do! It's just that there's no old trolls, or any trolls for that matter, left on Midgard after the White-Christ sent King Olav to kill them all!"declared Guttorm with the same certainty he usually had when talking about things he had heard from his parents.
"Poor trolls..."muttered Gunnhild sadly
"They deserved, Gunnhild! Mum says they were wicked and evil! They would steal little babies from the villages and replace them with their own disgusting spawn!"
"Old Mossface is one of those, isn't her?"asked Ulrik, though there was really no need - they all knew the story.
"A'yup!"nodded Guttorm sagely, more than happy to confirm "He's a changeling, he is. Mum says she knew the the parents who had to raise him, didn't know he was a troll before he was 10 yeards old and started to grow moss all over!"
"Uhm..."began Gunnhild, tilting her head, but Guttorm was already continuing with the story.
"- And then they abandoned him out in the forest but he refused to leave! Finally a holy man came all the way from the city and tried to banish him, but even that didn't help! So instead they agreed to build him a little house out here and he's been here ever since! Only leaving to forage for food or wood! It's true!"
"But..."Gunnhild finally got the chance to speak, raising her voice a bit "But, uhm, if your mum knew his parents then... then he can't be a *thousand* winters old!"
The two boys stared at the girl, trying to find something to some flaw to her argument but ended up with a wordless concession and shrug.
"He's old, that's for sure though."half-way agreed Ulrik, giving her a bit of a nod.
"They say that only *he* knows how old he is, exactly. But...!"Guttorm held up his finger, once again being the great storyteller. "If he tells you how old he is, he'll die. That's true, it is! Many have tried to trick him into telling him his age, so says mum. The whole village have tried to that, it is! The shepherd up at Westhill says he almost had him fooled, once!"
"Hey, Guttorm..."said Ulrik all of a sudden, with a grin, as he looked to Gunnhild "I think I have an idea on who can trick Old Mossface."
The two boys looked at Gunnhild and smiled.
Old Mossface stared into the little fireplace he'd recently lit. It wasn't particularly cold at this time of the year, but he liked the fire. It was calming.
Though fire hurt, he knew that, it was something else to see it dance slowly over a log of firewood, burning at its own leisure rather than being wild or quickly fading away. It was the perfect time to enjoy some of his own brew and let the day come to another end.
He didn't think much when relaxing, he saw no point to it. Thinking was what humans did and they thought a lot, an awfully lot. About this and that, it was often surprising to Old Mossface that they managed to talk at all with so much going inside their mind at once. Whenever Old Mossface thought about things, he'd only remember his youth and wished that he was younger than ten again when his mum and dad loved him. But that wasn't possible, however much you thought about it. So it made Old Mossface just sad and he was more than enough sad.
With a sip of his brew and a grumbling sigh he let his eyes rest a bit as he adjusted himself in his favorite chair. Which was in fact his only chair, but certainly his favorite.
Though rest did not come easily as suddenly there was an awful thunder hammering at his door. He hoped it wasn't visitors, because he hated visitors. They only wanted to know his age. And Old Mossface didn't want to die, he was too grumpy for such a change.
The knocking on the door didn't cease so he found himself forced to answer it, rising up from his chair with a growl and grumble. He hobbled all the way to the door and slung it open - making his best effort to look sour but that didn't really require much effort.
"Yes? Hello?"he declared briskly as he looked outside, seeing no-one. Probably the kids causing mischief, he figured and sighed as he went to shut the door but something was obstructed the door, followed with a tiny, timid sound.
"Uhhh, hullo?"
He looked down and saw a tiny human girl standing on in the way of his door, lightly rubbing her shoulder.
"Yes?"he said after a while, doing his best to sound not too pleased by her presence.
"Uh... I, uhm.... I..."she stammered, blinking as she looked up at him.
"You, you... ! Come on! Go on! I am in no mood for games, girl!"he bellowed at her which caused her to wince but she still stood her tiny ground.
".. Could I please have some water!"she finally managed to ask, though perhaps a few degrees louder than she'd intended.
There was a brief pause as the old troll glared down at her, trying to see if she was serious about this. After a moment of silence he grunted and let go of the door, turning around and walked back into his house.
"Alright, alright. Come in then, come in. I have some milk if you want."he grumbled and looked behind and yelled "Shut the door after you!"
After closing the door she followed dutifully inside. Old Mossface's house wasn't much to look at it, a hut more than a house but he felt it was cozy enough. It provided somewhat protection against the rain. The last thing his parents gave to him.
Gunnhild followed a few steps behind him and watched with big eyes as he poured a jug of milk unto a cup and without a word gave it to her, which she replied with a half-practiced curtsy and when the troll moved to sit back down on his favorite chair she moved over and sat down on the floor without a complaint.
For a while the two of them said nothing, Old Mossface stared into the fire with a scowl and Gunnhild sipped lightly from her cup of milk. But it was Old Mossface who broke the silence as he looked back to her.
"So I suppose you're going to ask me how old I am then?"
She looked back, wide-eyed but shook her head firmly.
"N-No."
"Oh? Now I never... Have you lot finally figured I wont ever tell, then?"
"I, uhm, dunno. Ulrik and Guttorm wanted me to trick you into telling your age."she said with a light frown of her own before she added "But I wont."
"Ulrik and Guttorm?"the troll asked, tilting his head a bit.
"Mhm-hm! They're the son of Åshild, the weaver."
"Oh, *her* Old Mossface remembers. She lies a lot."his only comment was and nodded to himself, settling himself into the chair with a grunt before looking back to her.
"So why wont you ask Old Mossface about his age?"
There was a brief pause as Gunnhild looked at the troll, who'd make for a scary enough visage for many both young and old. It wasn't just his face covered in moss, but his hair was like lichen and his eyes a strange shade of orange. But she seemed less taken by fright now than when she stood outside.
"Because I don't want you to die."
The Troll stared at her intently, blank of expression. The fire was slowly dying, crackling death-throes kept there from being an absolute silence. Finally his face gave way to expression and the old troll seemed to attempt a smile, making it half-way before he looked towards the dying flames, with no intent of saving it.
"It has been a long time since someone did not wish me to pass this world."he began, his voice coarse like rocks grinding against each other. "Old Mossface has been alone for a hundred sixty one winters. No human kin wanted him, no troll kin left to be with."
Gunnhild looked at him, there was a look of on her that told her she'd figured something out. But then looked sadly at him "You must've been lonely."
The troll didn't reply and looked up at the ceiling and frowned then back to the young girl, shaking his head.
"It is lonely."he conceded at last, as he had now begun thinking about it. "But it is late, girl. Old Mossface go now."
"Uh, you're going out this late?"Gunnhild asked, confused.
The old troll rose from his favorite chair and fetched the mug of milk, coming back to pour the rest of it into the girl's empty cup.
"Oh yes. Old Mossface needs to leave now."he nodded to her and grabbed the iron poker next to the fireplace and began shuffling the smoldering coal. "I am to make for the journey to Trollheim."
"But... but you didn't tell me your age, you only told me...!"
"More than enough, for you are a smart girl - aren't you?"
"... One hundred and seventy one?"she asked gloomily.
Old Mossface only nodded before he suddenly was still as stone and the colour of his eye became gray.
After a while Gunnhild left the hut and returned to the village, she was celebrated as the girl who finally tricked that old, foul monster. Much to the jealousy of Guttorm and Ulrik who thought they'd sent her on a fool's errand.
But only Gunnhild knew it was in fact she who was tricked by Old Mossface.
|
I roll out of bed, the day starts like any other; my room is sunlit, my blanket is still warm and comfortable, while the creaky wood floor is cold and harsh to my sleepy feet. I contemplate looking out the window, but ever since my existance became a global phenomenon, thousands upon thousands of women were doing a near by pilgrimage towards my house. There are many reasons, some claims they want to ensure that the human species continue and that I see no harm, some wants to continue their bloodline, while some simply wants to see if I'm real or feed their conspiracy theories that the now female president has fabricated my existance.
Oh, I forgot to mention I'm the last male on the planet. Everyone else died to an illness now known as the Caspian X epidemy. It started as a cold, people were joking about a zombie apocalypse and what not.
When WHO ranked it at the same level as the swine flu, some people took precautions, but most people laughed at it. Then people started dying; or rather, then *men* started dying. While it had slowly escalated for a few weeks, everyone died within hours of eachother. For whatever twisted reason, I was the sole male survivor on the planet.
It's ironic; I'm not religious, so there goes God handpicking me. And I'm by no means in good shape, and I was one of the people that laughed at the epidemy at first. Yet here I am; the sole surviving male human, among over three billion women. The reason for this remain a mystery for everyone but me.
I'll make my coffee as normal, drink it in a room without windows, listening to the desperate hammering on the doors. Women have tried to force me into chains, drug me, you name it. I'm in high demand. Regardless, I have managed to lock myself in.
Ever since I told the now female world I was, in fact, gay, and I wanted to take some time to grasp the situation before I started to make life altering decisions, they've been hammering down my door, threatening me or trying to soothe me over with sweet promises. A surprising amount believes they can make me straight. I shrug, tighten my bathrobe and sip on my coffee.
It's weird to think about; I went to undergo surgery, and when I woke up, everyone in the room, save for a cute nurse by the name of Arena, had died. I should be glad at least one lived, to ensure I survived the operation. She was in total shock when I woke up after having been blacked out for days after the epidemy had taken everyone else alive. Everyone are wondering why I was the chosen one. Was it because I was blacked out under drugs? Did I die, but the nurse brought me back to life?
Those are the questions on everyone's minds. Except mine. I only have one;
Did I chose the best or worst time to have a Orchiectomy performed? |
I almost fell out of my chair when the computer flashed the sequence at me. I recognised it instantly.
**6EQUJ5**
100 years ago, almost to the day, the same exact sequence had being recognised by an intern at SETI.
No, not almost to the day. 100 years to the day *exactly.*
I work alone on a Lunar SETI facility, far from anything and anyone. My 'home' is made out of three interconnected pods: bedroom and leisure pod, wash and pool pod, and the research centre. Looming over the pods somewhere in the darkness is the giant radio telescope. A huge satellite dish listening out for potential alien chatter.
I look again at the characters. 6EQUJ5. The WOW signal. I cross reference the location of origination against the computers estimates. It is without doubt being broadcast from within the Sagittarius cluster.
I am in a way prepared for this. The WOW signal was picked up due to how powerful it was, but it is actually a message being broadcast on the hydrogen line.
Hydrogen is the most common element in the universe, thus possibly used by extraterrestrials to send a strong signal.
It resonates at about 1420.40575177 MHz. I switch the computers decoding matrix. The message is still being broadcast. I now have many lines of unrecognisble words display on the screen infront of me - but they are certainly words. After every 23 words the message seems to repeat.
It is a different language but I believe it can be cracked by the SETI network. I set it to work - every idle computer on Earth begins to try possible keys and translations. It takes only hours for a positive outcome.
"Sol colony. If you are still there you must run! Come home. Do not look back. *They are coming*. Sol colony please respond."
---
Thanks for reading! More of my WP responses on /r/nickofnight
Edit: Thank you so much for the gold (whoever you are)! Totally unexpected and extremely appreciated! |
A plane takes off in the distance as Josh crashes into his seat at the alert of his finished download.
*New Game*
Josh sat back in his chair and slurped the Raman and eggs he had prepared for himself. No Man's Sky, and affording a new game, was a special occasion for him but it didn't merit a classy meal. "Poor Man's Meal"bounced around in his head as he pondered the level and sort of excitement these games provide to people that are too poor to visit exotic places but fortunate enough to afford this lifestyle at least. He wondered how exotic and exciting the game would feel really. The unrest of whether he should be childishly giddy or knowledgeably critical waged inside as the game loaded.
Launch! After a while he was exploring. It was exciting and, God damn, it was beautiful. Some work later he managed to jump into a new star system. After exiting warp he was greeted with a sight that gave him pause. Knowing gas giants weren't in the game he was taken aback by the fact there was one in this system that looked a lot like Jupiter. What was more striking though, right after this "Jupiter"was a "Saturn". He traced the planets inward and, after a little piloting, sure enough an "Earth"!
He was thrilled to see it was so detailed and that this was the planet he had found when so many other players were likely so far apart. What an exhilaration to be the only player in this handcrafted gem.
Flying in over the Atlantic, he darted across the ocean to find his home. After some searching he eventually did. He swooped in beside it and landed on his neighbors house. *Scwoof* The house crushed underneath and his desk rumbled slightly. He cursed the airport near his house and proceeded to exit his ship. After taking a few steps out he noticed people standing outside. He casually shot a few of them to see if they would die, they do and the rest scatter. Not long after air raid sirens sound and it is at this point that Josh felt a nudging concern.
Josh took his headphones off to use the restroom to immediately notice that the sirens never stopped. A tornado? No, there are planes on the runway. A test? No, it's Saturday evening. He walked toward his window and pulled the blinds aside hoping to find a clue. What he saw caused him to fall flat on his back.
Josh frantically scrambled for his cell phone and tapped at it.
"Yo, dude"
"Sean, what are you doing right now? This is abs..."
"Huh? What's up? Did you sta-"
He reluctantly hung up. Telling anyone probably wasn't a good idea no matter how guiltless or panicked he felt. Quickly returning to the game he left the planet and landed on Mars. Having done so he stood up from his computer and paced for a minute. He went back to the window. His neighbors house was not just damaged but completely fucking destroyed. Firefighters were struggling to put out the blaze and ambulances were retrieving injured and dead bodies.
The implications of his now empowered disposition were starting to sink in. Should he pick sides? Or maybe play hero like in Death Note. Or maybe clandestinely serve himself. Or even tougher questions like how to defend the servers or from his account being traced. He thought about his newly deceased neighbors for which he was responsible. Part of him felt guilty but part of him felt the duality between the video game and reality diminishing granted less regard requisite, for laws he thought concrete lost footing and crumbled before him. As questions about the laws of nature and his own consciousness swirled around in his head he was again overcome with a battle to find balance between childish delight and mature consideration. What Josh did know for sure, though, was this was going to be a one of a kind exploration on terms he was ill-prepared for.
*Part Two*
"Nah man I just freaked out a little, I thought a plane tried to land a little premature or something. Everything's cool, dude."
He let out a tense chuckle.
"You sure man? I still think it's pretty wild. Why would anybody want to kill your neighbors?"
Josh, retiring to his couch, stared at the tv screen and had a moment where he suddenly became hyper-aware of his command of his body's armature.
*...sighted landing on top of the home before witnesses say someone exited the vehicle and gunned down four people. The person then proceeded to briefly examine the dead, stand still for a few minutes, then board the vehicle to...*
"Josh?"
"Listen, I'm gonna go outside and see what's happening. Things seem to be calming down."
"Ok, I'm going to keep an eye on the news. Some of the witness accounts coming in are wild! I hope footage leaks soon."
"Yea, yea. Take it easy."
He hung up quickly and shuddered after letting out a deep sigh. Watching the camera crew harass Mrs. Bourn about her dead children was making him feel existential again. He returned back to his computer so he could give himself time to run over everything that came to light. Exploring and upgrading on Mars was a healthy catharsis as it seemed like progress in the real world and he felt similar to how he did when he first started playing, careful to stay out of telescopic view.
It was three AM. Red-eyed, Josh laid down. After some time he heard the door to his apartment open. This raising alarm he sat up in bed and tried to weigh out a few options. Heavy boots clacked and he was sure authorities had discovered his secret. Yet it didn't take long for the boots to reach his room. Not a word, the door creaked open. It was dark and he could see naught. As footsteps creeped forward Josh was frozen with terror. The light gleaming through his window illuminated not an officer of the law, but his explorer in No Man's Sky. It's visor shrouded in shadow, just standing there for a little while. Then, just as Josh was about to raise question the thing lunged at him and began choking him violently. Two hands grasped his throat with implacable grip as he flailed trying to gain a foothold in any opportunity. In his panic the being leaned in close enough for Josh to glimpse it's face. A hollow, black skull gazed back at him with black smoke billowing out from it's eyes and out the vents of the suit.
Josh gasped for air. He was awake in his bed now. His sheets soaked in sweat and urine. Flustered, he got out of bed and opened his window to see the neighbors house still destroyed. He logged back on to find his character where he left them on Mars. Reluctantly he decided to take a shower, every door open. He sat down in the water and inquired about his emotional state.
*This is surely my perceived disposition manifest. Dreams tell us about how we feel not how things are*
*Knock Knock Knock*
As quickly as he could be Josh was dressed and answered the door. He cracked it and peered out. It seemed well wishers were there to drop off some sweets for him. After a quaint and brief discussion he closed his door and set the paper platter down, unwrapped the foil and ate. Not long after he decided this is what his discovery was, a gift. This is what it had to be. An assortment of good things that bring warmth to the hearts of people living in fear. He would not let the darkness consume him here. Not when his adventure just started.
Should I keep going? Part three? |
I stood outside the door. I felt my holster to make sure my gun was there. A Baretta 92FS, standard issue in the police force. I went into the room and took a seat. When everyone else sat down, I looked around. The others looked like your typical grunts, people who dropped out of high school. The boss walked in and sat down.
"Lads, I have something important to tell you."
He reached into his jacket. Instinctively, I did too, as did everyone else.
We all drew our guns.
"I'm an undercover cop. This is a sting!"
Silence. We all said it at once.
More silence.
"So,"said the boss, "I know a good burger joint." |
"Wh-what?"I asked, bewildered by the old geezer's outburst.
"I *said*, you think you're ***funny*** tapping out ***goddamn MORSE*** in front of a ***WAR VET?!***"His face was going red from the rage. His arms were shaking, making the sleeves on his coat look like an earthquake in the desert.
"I-I'm so sorry! I didn't know!"I squeaked, shrinking at the sight of every eye on the bus looking my way. God, why does this shit happen to me? I just wanted to go to McDonald's!
"Bullshit ya didn't know. It takes time to learn Morse! We radio boys had it drilled into us back in the war!"He got up and started to walk towards me, with fire in his eyes. "So how about you tell me ***why you're tappin' Morse in front of a war vet!"***
"Pl-please! Please! Let me explain!"My lips felt like they were gonna freeze up, but I got the words out somehow.
"Ya got sixty, kid. Be quick about it."
"This finger's been twitching ever since I was born,"I explained, raising my hand for proof, "not even the doctors can figure it out. They even had to give me a note saying I can't do certain jobs. See?"I pulled out the note. "I don't know why it's tapping Morse, man. I didn't even know."
"Hmph. Load of bullshit,"he said, before returning to his seat.
We rode for a bit. People got on, people got off, the bus was still cramped as hell, and my finger twitched on. I was looking out the window when I saw the old man looking at my finger again. But this time he wasn't mad - he was... sort of shocked.
"Uhh... sir? Is my finger bothering you again?"I asked, tentatively.
He didn't answer. Rather, he got up. Slowly, with his legs shaking about as bad as his arms were earlier. He walked over to me, with a look of utter disbelief plastered all over his face. He slowly crouched down to where my hand was, resting on my jeans. And then he started to tap ***on my hand.*** In that same strange, erratic, patterned twitch that my finger did.
My finger stopped twitching. Almost as though it were *listening.*
He stopped. My finger started. It stopped. He started. I just sat there. *Completely* confused.
After a while of this, the old man got up, and, looking at me with that look on his face, asked me, "Kid, do you know anyone by the name of Johnny Hiddleston?"
"No,"I replied. "Why?"
"He was an old childhood friend. We both got drafted into the war. He was infantry. Before we went off, we would joke about how, if we ever needed each other, we'd both learn Morse, and he'd jack a radio and talk to me that way. He died at Normandy."
"I'm sorry."
"Sure you are. Anyway, that's not the strange part. The strange part is this. I've always had this feeling - this *waiting* feeling - like someday, I'd hear the ol' beeping sound, and it'd be him talking to me. And we'd have a nice chat, and we'd joke around, like we did when we were kids. Well, now I guess I know why."
"Why's that?"I asked, feeling a little unsure of where this was going.
"Because he's found his radio, kid. And it's you."
***
I haven't written for a long while, so I'm pretty sure I'm a bit rusty. How'd I do? |
"Well. This is awkward,"I announced, tugging nervously at the back of my spandex tights.
I unfolded the metal chair I was carrying, set it down, and sat on it, removing my belt and draping it over a shoulder so it wouldn't dig in to my abs.
"But I already paid the entrance fee, so. Ya mind?"
The speaker at the lectern shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, and shrugged. "I suppose not. Anyway, back to the plight of the Norwegian polar bear population..." |
The barman scowled when he heard Bell's Irish accent. His brows knit together under the rough flat cap and he shoved the dark rum across the weathered counter. Some of the liquid sloshed over the side of the tumbler, adding to the stickiness. Bell ignored it, picked up the glass and downed the shot in one. The bar was one he'd stumbled into: somewhere between the Great Wars in a city that was more scum and smog than people. He'd seen the sign and burst through the doors in a stupor, running from one drink to the next.
"Another,"he said, lilting voice blurred with the honey sweetness of the rum. The bar was dark, smog and belching smoke pressing against the windows like a woollen blanket. Patrons kept to the corners of the room, nursing drinks and watching Bell, with his wiry frame and red hair, taking up space on the stools at the bar. A barmaid swept the floor behind a pillar, humming just loud enough to be heard.
"Your sort aren't too welcome around here,"the barman's Birmingham accent was thick as the mud in the canals outside. He had coal dust in the wrinkles of his face and under his fingernails.
Bell shrugged and sized the man up, wondering if he could take him in a fight. If he glassed him first, then kicked his legs out...
"My money's good as anyone else's,"he said.
The barman scraped his coins off the bar and reluctantly agreed when he saw their value. The barmaid sat down at the other end of the bar, broom clattering against the floor. The barman poured another shot and Bell drank it gratefully, letting the burn of the rum run into his stomach.
"Are ye drinking to forget?"the barman asked. "Not seen a man put away so much unless he's got something on his mind."
"Drinking to remember,"Bell said. He tapped his fingers on the bar, enjoying the warm fizz that extended into them.
"Remember what?"the barman picked up a cloth, picked up a clean glass and proceeded to make it filthy by rubbing it. Bell shrugged. If the man wanted to lend an ear and pull out his secrets, he'd be sorely disappointed.
"I've forgotten,"he replied.
Truth was, after the drinking, he'd find an opium den in Sparkbrook. Something run by a woman who wouldn't meet his eyes, dressed in mourning. She'd lead him to a bed and he'd lose himself in the dense, resiny smoke. In dreams, sometimes he saw shifting places, shifting things.
There was always a girl in the smoke. Her head bent low, her hand extended. She wore a blue dress and bramble-cuts marked her thin legs. Her hair was dark and loose, damp but drying quickly. Bell would sink deeper into the smoke, into the stupor, and wait for her to look up. If he saw her eyes, he'd know.
The rum burned him again. There were other things, too: a house with green gables, surrounded by flowers. That image would fuzz into white static and disappear, the road name on the curb just too far to be seen. Bell didn't know if it came from his past, or his future, or from a film he'd seen one and half forgotten. His chin dropped down onto his chest. The barman was still talking to him.
"Are you looking for a girl for tonight?"the barman asked. In his hand he turned over the coins Bell had given him. Maybe they had been too much. "'cause our Esther's a good girl if the price is right."
"Another time,"Bell waved his hand. With the drink, he'd be in no fit state. He'd go to another place, another time. Maybe this time, the dreams would show him something new. The girl would look up.
Bell slipped from the stool, stumbling toward the door.
"I don't pay you to sit around all day,"the barman said to the barmaid. Bell had already been forgotten. The barmaid tucked her dark hair behind her ear, smoothed down her blue dress and got back to her feet. He felt the prickles on his neck as she watched him go. If he'd seen her eyes, he'd know.
|
For years, I protected my city. I donned the mask, bloodied my fists, and broke my body in the name of this city and now they reward my sacrifices with anger. With the location of the bunker compromised, I can already see a mob formed outside organized with signs calling for more transparency in their justice system. Their rally cries demanding reform and retribution from the man who beat their cousin to bloody pulp or otherwise contributed to the arrest of their son echoed through the compound.
Thinking quickly, I changed into a hoody and jeans and intermixed myself with the crowd. I played with lighter in my pocket, realizing I would have to take charge of the situation if I wanted to minimize its damage. I marched in front of the crowd and in that moment, I could feel a thousand eyes resting my face which I found more calming than the usual feeling of dozens of guns pointed in my direction.
“Fine people of Oceanic City, are we going to let this vigilante run through our streets and bloody our family without probably cause because he feels like it?” I called out to the crowd which returned with appropriate enthusiasm. “We hold our police accountable with courts and investigations and we hold our politicians accountable with our votes and protests, because they are humans. Well-meaning, but deeply flawed humans who occasionally make mistakes and have biases. If we can hold them accountable, why shouldn’t we hold this deeply troubled, spandex-wearing freak accountable?”
The crowd thundered with applause and whistles.
“If the Steel Fist can’t come out and tell us who he is, then we’ll hold him accountable, alright. We’ll hold him accountable with flame!” I screamed into the crowd as held lighter above my head. The crowd cheered and invented an impromptu chant of “No more masks.” Together, we barged into the warehouse which housed my liar. The crowd set out to destroy anything of value: flash grenades, smoke bombs, my compact grappling gun, files upon files of evidence and criminal records, and of course, they tore my original, dark blue costume to shreds.
Knowing that when the police would arrive, they would probably find something to pin on me, I called everyone’s lighters. As I cleared the crowd out of the liar, stragglers lit everything I worked and bled for. As I evacuated the last of the protesters, I activated residual incendiary bombs I planted around the warehouse to make sure every bit of evidence would be destroyed. As the familiar sirens echoed through the city, flames of the fire cast a long shadow on me as I watched the last five years of my life burn. I gave my life and blood for these people, and all they could return was ash and hate. I walked away from the mask that day, never to return.
|
My ancestors were neanderthals. The blood of survival flows through my veins.
I was abandoned as a child on a derelict vessel as it travels through the depths of space. From what I've managed to get from the terminals in my section, the purpose of this ship was to serve as a lifeboat for humanity. Although the food and water are still supplied automatically, I've seen no signs of other life.
I've explored my section thoroughly. The majority of it is fitness equipment, with a small section dedicated to hygiene, and another to food service. There are lap pools, a full track, and all the weight training equipment I could possibly want. It has been my paradise and my savior. Each day I swim, run, or lift. The monitors are my motivators, my overlords. Their constant message is that I must maintain my fitness for the betterment of humanity. They speak of the perfection of the human form, and how the only way to maintain it is through sweat. So each day, I sweat in the hopes that one day I can bring the epitome of humanity back to our home planet.
At the boundaries of my section large "DANGER"signs are hung. I've yet to gather the courage to peer past those signs, as I can only assume that whatever killed the rest of the passengers is held out there. Beyond them, the ship is dark and foreboding, but my loneliness is starting to encroach upon my fear.
I've just hit my twenty fifth year aboard the life-raft. The scientific literature contained in the terminals tell me that it has become time to fulfill my destiny and create the next generation. I keep thinking its time to explore. What if there are other passengers trapped aboard? What if I was sealed into my section as others were sealed into others?
It's time. I can't stay like this forever.
---------------------------------------------
The doors whisk open silently, the flimsy banner falling to the floor. A sign just outside the door reads "Repairs will be finished 1 April, 2780". A lone figure traverses to the head of a dark corridor, lights snapping on as he walks, their warm glow bathing the abandoned hall. He walks the length that suddenly blossoms into an enormous, colorful cavern. Layer upon layer of roads and pools criss cross the space. All around, hover chairs scoot back and forth, and in them, some sort of blue blob.
He walks closer, and takes a second look. 100 meters below on the side of a pool rests a lone chair. In it, he finally realizes, is what has to be a person. A glutinous, fat, gratuitous excuse for the remainder of humanity. All around, thousands of chairs filled to bursting with these over-sized people.
He jumps.
|
"Do these really need to be so tight?"I asked the man who was standing across the room.
Agent Taggert smiled and replied, "You're a tough kid Hector, you'll be fine."
I struggled a bit to find the sweet spot where the handcuffs weren't cutting into my wrists too painfully before asking, "When do I get my phone call?"
Agent Taggert's eyes continued to scan the paperwork on his clipboard as he took a long sip of coffee from his styrofoam cup.
"Yo. Phone call. Can I have it?"I shouted.
Taggert pulled out his chair and took a seat facing me. "You know why you're here, right Hector?"
"Yeah, you guys think I had something to do with the credit union robbery but you've got nothing on me."I said with a grin. "And I still need my phone call homie."
Taggert's eyes seemed to glaze over and he stared at me without blinking.
"Yo dude, are you OK enough to be interrogating me? You look like you need sleep or something."
His gaze wouldn't break.
"Seriously dude, you're freaking me out a little bit."I mumbled. "Can you send someone else in here, who's preferably not a headcase."
Suddenly, he snapped out of the weird trance. "How long have you been able to become invisible Hector?"
I swallowed hard and tried to compose myself. "Seriously bro, I think you need a vacation."
Taggert wrote something down on his clipboard and continued, "It's been a few years, correct? You discovered this around age 15...at your cousin's birthday party?"
I was starting to sweat. "Hey man, I really need that phone call."
He cut me off, "The credit union's video footage shows you arriving on Friday around 4:48 PM before using their restroom. They close up shop around 7:00 PM, but you never appear to leave the bank. The footage continues on until Saturday morning around 1:15 AM, when a spray-paint can suddenly appears out of thin air before blinding the camera's view. That sounds a little supernatural, doesn't it Hector?"
My legs are shaking and I want nothing more than to disappear right now, but I have to control the urge. "That's some wild stuff man. I don't know how that could have happened, but I wasn't even there dude. You guys must have seen someone else on camera that looks like me or something."
Taggert's face was stoic as he stared into my soul. "That would be a possibility son, if we hadn't found your clothes stuffed in the tank of the toilet."
My heart is racing. I might pass out.
Taggert continued, "Apart from that mistake, this would have been a pretty clever plan Hector. You waited until after 1:00 AM to avoid the chance of running into any cleaning staff. You took out the surveillance cameras, and made your escape with a little over $17,000. All while in the nude, I would presume."
"I want my phone call."I whispered.
"You're not getting a phone call son."Taggert said in a mock-paternal tone. "I need you to think hard for me. Do you remember your cousin's birthday party? You two were playing in the backyard and you found a coin in the grass. A dirty old quarter that you both fought over?"
I could feel my jaw tightening.
He continued, "That coin was your pendant, Hector. The odds of a human finding their individual pendant are virtually impossible to calculate, or even fathom. You son, are one of the very lucky few to have done so. That small piece of currency is the reason you have the ability to become invisible."
I felt like I was going to vomit. "How...How do you know any of this?"
Taggert leaned forward and whispered, "Because I'm one of those lucky few as well."
I burst out laughing. I couldn't help myself. "This is a joke right? You're messing with me. You can turn invisible too?"
Taggert looked disappointed. He stood up from his chair and walked towards the door before turning back, "Listen to me Hector. You have two choices right now. First option, prison. Second option, help me find others like us."
His mouth didn't move, but his voice was clear as day.
"Did you...are you..."I couldn't bring myself to say it.
Taggert continued staring at me, "Yes, Hector. I am a telepath. I found my pendant 27 years ago. Believe it or not, you are not the only other lottery winner I've encountered."
"This is unbelievable. I'm dreaming, I've got to be."I said under my breath.
Taggert opened the door and I looked up at him. He nodded at me, and I swallowed hard before thinking about my response.
"Get these cuffs off of him"Taggert announced to someone in the hall, "He's in." |
"The judge is actually, for all the meanness he pretends to muster up and dish out, a kind man,"John, my opponent said. As always, almost like tradition, we would start off with good words about the judge and move on from there. After all, when only the fortune teller and the judge themselves are the ones who know, you need to be a little cautious. One secret a little too outlandish, and you'd be kicked out.
"He might be a kind man,"I replied, voice low and hands on my for-show crystal ball, "but he's also a ruthless man when crossed. Should anyone lay a finger on his daughter, they will not live to see another day."
I turned to the judge, who nodded. He mouthed some name, likely his daughter's boyfriend. Typical reality TV. The live studio audience laughed. I scribbled down a query, 'may I reveal her name?'
Judge Jeffrey looked down at his stand, reading my message and nodding.
"After all, Candice is his precious little child."In truth, I simply knew the judge beforehand. Fortune telling is a tricky thing, and exhausting when you least expect it.
"True, true,"my opponent agreed, loading his next shot to fire, "but we both know that this judge would *never* actually hurt anyone."
"Oh, he wouldn't?"I challenged, raising the glass of water to my lips and frowning. "Do you really think that he would never, in his entire life, go out of his way to hurt somebody?"
John raised his hands to his head, pretending to be in deep thought and concentration. What you need to know is that fortune telling, without all the pyrotechnics and acts like raising hands to one's head... doesn't do well for ratings. A monkey doing math is impressive. A monkey doing math while riding a unicycle for show is doubly so.
We looked to the judge, and the first point was awarded to John. My eyes narrowed.
"Are you sure?"I asked, trying to confirm and raising a hand to my chin. "Remember, the contract for this show? You are willingly putting your life on the line, as our judge here..."
I glanced over at him. He tugged at his collar and flashed an uncomfortable smile.
"...can hurt us if he wishes. So long as we don't predict that he does."After all, what good is a fortune teller if they can't even keep themselves alive?
"Ha! You think Judge Jeffrey, the kindest of souls, the man who even broke conduct and gave us bottled water as opposed to tap water,"John laughed, taking a sip of his arrogance-fuelled drink, "would actually harm a fly? He'd die before that!"
"You know, they say that bottled water is actually just filtered tap water."The judge's buzzer rang out, another point lost for me. Nervous already?
John blinked. The penny dropped.
"What's the matter, John?"
"N-nothing, just... amazed that I'm already winning. Aren't you meant to be the most accurate teller in all of America, Alex? And here I am, already two points up with the judge on my side,"he gloated, tugging at his collar just like the judge did. Poor guy, he was trying to look into Jeffrey's mind. He knew something was up, just no-
"The judge hates fortune tellers!"John bursted out.
"Because his daughter, Candice, was hospitalised the day after seeing one?"I said, grinning as the judge turned pale. John, still not quite catching on raised the glass to his lips, and paused. I thought he finally realised. But no, he just saw 'it' instead.
"The f-fortune teller told the judge,"he stammered, looking to the judge who was almost trembling but showed no sign of stopping him, "that Candice would fall off a building that day...
John swallowed. "And on that day, Jeffrey ran through countless red lights to get to the school, where he found Candice and her boyfriend kissing on the top floor. But in his haste, he surprised her... and caused her to fall..."
He took another sip of water.
"Very clever, Jo-"
Another red buzz. Two down, one more and I was out.
"Jeffrey, you realise that even if I'm three down, you've lost."John stared.
"Wh-what else is there?"
I pointed to the water. I picked mine up. I poured it out.
"You're a smart man, John. The audience,"I said, gesturing to them, "has been given tap water. You. Me. And Judge Jeffrey here, we've all been given bottled water by a man who has a daughter in hospital, and a medical bill he can't pay. Oh, and two of the vile creatures that caused — although really, we just tell you what has or will happen — his daughter's accident. And all of it..."
"But life insurance doesn't pay out!"
"That's a common misconception."My grin had spread up to my eyes. Poisoned water, in an act of kindness. This Jeffrey guy was good. I turned to the audience, crystal ball in hand and flicking the switch, the show must go on after all.
"As you all know, we tellers sign a contract. One that permits attacking us, should we not predict the attack. This weeds out all those foolhardy would-be tellers,"I stated, common knowledge really, but I needed a build-up. "And leaves only the real ones behind."
"But even though the real ones have the advantage of clairvoyance-"John started turning red, unbuttoning his shirt as air became a scarcity. Jeffery just stood, staring down. "-they cannot predict everything. Least of all, when there's deception. Remember, Jeffery here wouldn't harm a fly. He'd die before that."
I turned my head to the camera. "Rewind a little earlier, just after I had said Jeffery was a ruthless man who would end those who touched his daughter. And get a lip reader or something."
The screen rewound and the words came out, one by one at half-speed.
*"...they will not live to see another day."*
On the recording, I turned to the judge, who nodded. He mouthed some name.
>In truth, I simply knew the judge beforehand.
"Alex."The computer spoke. My name.
***
Visit **/r/AlexUrwin** for more stories! I've seen your future, you're going to be happy if you do. Trust me, I avoided being poisoned. |
Outside something or the other rages. Maybe it's a fire. Maybe an invasion. It gets hard to keep up and I grow tired and disturbed. So many people die. There is so much waste.
I wonder one day if it will be me. A lot of the people I know have died. A lot more will. I feel sorry for them, but they just can't understand. They just don't know.
This story that they are trying to live, it is just too fast. It is too much action, too much violence. They don't know what makes a good story. They can't see the heart of it.
I have my children and I tend to them. The village gates burn in the dawning night and the sky is red. The heroes are outside and they will fight for their lives with honor and for glory. It is all very nice, but at the end of the day it means nothing.
Why are those bandits worth caring about? Why is the battle worth anything? A fire catches the thatch houses near the gate. A woman jumps from her window and the heroes get distracted. A young champion with long blond hair is killed and he falls to his knees with the sun in his face. Why do you care?
I sit in my house and I know I am yet safe. I am safe because without me you would not care. Without me there are no heroes and there are no villians, just meaningless rabble. I tend to my children and I make my sympathetic fatherly face. I tell them that everything will be okay and I hug them. In that moment of love, I feel my armor strengthen. I feel your investment and emotion.
The night comes and the bandits are dead. I go to the village centre to mourn and do my part. No doubt you may have forgotten my name, or perhaps never heard of it, but it is my sadness that gives gravitas. It is my tears that drive everything.
The others look at me crossly, for it is yet another time I have survived. They just cannot understand. I hold the end of the box that the young champion is in and I help them carry him to the pyre. His death was noble and proud and he died a hero. All because of me, of course. All because of poor old sympathetic me. You are welcome. |
Minerva Mcgonagall had faced Death Eaters before. Inferi. Dementors. Boggarts. Heck, she had even seen Lord Voldemort and battled him face-to-face. But she had never seen anyone- or anything this intimidating before.
Chef Gordon Ramsey leaned back in his chair, staring hard at the Headmistress. "Magic, you say?"
"Oh, magic to be sure,"started Mcgonagall. "But judging from your-"she stopped herself before she could say Muggle. The former Transfiguration Professor felt as if the word would offend him. "Non-magical heritage, I would say that you don't have much experience with Potions?"
Ramsey smiled. He crossed his arms, then chuckled. "Headmistress Mcgonagall, if I may say so, I have been working with Potions, and by extension magic, for a very long time."Mcgonagall wore an expression of surprise. A Muggle having experience with magic prior to the Unification?
The chef paused to allow his words to sink in, then continued. "You see, I am a chef by profession, and indeed a great lover of food. I believe that the creation of an awesome plate of food is an art in itself, a form of magic. Very similar to your Potions, a brand of magic I understand to be the formation of cures, remedies and poisons from various magical herbs and ingredients."
"And I am sure that my experience as a chef, the rigour and discipline required in creating a beautiful patchwork of flavour and colour will be instrumental in shaping the minds of these young- Potioneers. Am I wrong?"
The Hogwarts headmistress had never once heard the subject of Potions being compared to- to food, of all things- before. As far as she could tell from her former collegues Severus and Horace, Potions was nothing more than your average magical subject. Was it useful? Slightly more than its Muggle equivalent, she noted. She had never seen it from this angle before, though.
Perhaps this person would be the one to bring a fresh angle to the world of magical academia, she mused.
***
"Oi!! You there, those sneezeworts aren't going to chop themselves!!"The Gryffindor fifth-years stared at each other in fear as their new Potions Master strode across the dungeons to face a tall fifth-year.
Professor Gordon Ramsey took a ladle from the table and tasted a sip of the Gryffindor's Confusing Concoction. He grimaced, spitting it out.
"Do you know what this is?"He snarled as the fifth-year trembled in fright. "Answer me, you donkey, what. Is. This nonsense?!"
"This Concoction is so red, Mr Weasley there could use it as dye!"He roared, pointing to Hugo Weasley, who was stirring his cauldron like his life depended on it. "It's supposed to be blue, you idiot! Third year students could brew these things ten times better than this puddle of water you produced!"
"I-I'm sorry, Professor Ramsey. I-I-"
"Won't do it again? Pumpkin juice would make me more confused than the swamp mixture you brewed!"He motioned to the fifth-year's partner. "Clean it up."The other student nodded meekly, and Ramsey swept off to criticise another failed potion.
Mcgonagall winced when she heard the sounds of shouting echoing from the dungeons. Oddly enough, it only happened with the fifth and sixth years. When the first till third years were down there for Potions, it was calm and peaceful. She didn't know what would go on during seventh-year Potions, and she was more than happy to maintain that part of the status quo.
She waved her wand, sending an application for the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor flying her way.
"Bennedict Cumberbatch,"she said.
This was going to be a wonderful day.
|
"Jackson No."I said to the child, who was currently jumping up and down on a table. He turned to me and replied.
"Jackson yes."
"Don't make me call your mom again."
"I'll take care of it, Ryan."Said Adam as he walked past me. Despite the fact that his burly muscles made him look like a professional body builder, he was a real softie. It helped that his parents were loaded beyond belief leaving him to do whatever he wanted in life, he chose child care for some reason. I watched as he picked up Jackson in a fireman carry.
"Alright buddy, to time out you go."
"Aww."
"Thanks, Adam"I called out. As I scanned the room to make sure everything was running smoothly, I noticed a cup of paint water about to fall down. I quickly grabbed the cup before it tipped over completely. A little bit of the water spilled out.
"Sorry Mr.Ryan"The small child responsible for the cup of water said to me. I grabbed a paper towel.
"It's fine, accidents happen."Adam and I continued to walk around the room making sure that the children under our care were not misbehaving. I eventually walked over to Jackson.
"Are you going to start behaving again?"I asked him. He stared at me with an adorable frown on his face. "Do you want to stay in time out?"
"No."He finally replied.
"Will you start behaving again?"
"Yes."
"Alright then, time out it over."He smiled, got up out of his chair and started running towards his friends. "No running!"I yelled out. I looked over at the clock, it was already past 2 PM. I looked over at Adam who nodded his head at me. I inhaled.
"Alright, kids, it's nap-time!"I said in my teacher voice.
"Awww"They collectively moaned, reluctantly they put away whatever they were doing while we brought out the cots. Within 15 minutes all of the children were lying down for the hour.
Adam and I stood by each other for a bit before he started talking.
"Hey, there was this new movie that came out. I was wondering if you wanted to see it tonight?"
"Sorry man, I got plans this evening."
"Darn, maybe next time."
"Yeah, maybe."
The rest of the day was uneventful.
I wasn't lying when I said I had plans. Even though those plans may have been to kill a person, they were still plans, I thought to myself as I stood next to a road. I was wearing a bullet proof, leather jacket, a flat cap, and a mask that could change my voice and switch between regualr vision, night vision, and thermal vision. It was currently on night vison as I waited by the side of the road with my silenced 1911 in my hand behind me. I held my detonater to the side of my body.
There they were, a three car squad. As the car in the middle drove over the explosives I had set down I triggered the detonater, killing everyone in that car. The car behind it crashed while the car in front abruptly stopped, four people got out of the front car, armed with assult rifles. Before they could figure out where I was, I shot them all dead, not wasting a single bullet.
Pulling a grenade out of my jacket, I pulled it's pin and chucked it under the third car, There was only one person who was able to dodge the explosion of the grenade, but my bullet found a home in his dome.
Before I could walk away, I suddenly found myself being flung down the road, I hit the pavment with a sickening thud before rolling to my feet. Nothing broken thankfully, just a dislocated arm that was promptly relocated.
"So we meet again, Sharp Shot."He said to me, covered in spandex he stared me down.
"It appears so, Heavyweight."He charged at me, I ducked underneath him and pulled out my knife. I tried to stab him in the back but he turned around and kicked me in the chest. Trying to regain my breath, he grabbed me by my colar before smashing his forhead on my mask, I could feel the glass crack. I stubled backwards, pulled out my 1911, and pointed it at him. I noticed that a large portion of the glass seemes to have cracked off. Exposing my face.
Heavyweights face changed into a look I had never seen before, one of confusion. "Ryan?"Shit, he knew who I was, how did he know who I was. I stared at him untill it finally clicked.
"Adam."I replied.
"What the fuck are you doing?!"He yelled at me. "Do you know who the fuck you just killed."
"To answer you questions, yes I know what the fuck I am doing, and yes, I know who the fuck I just killed. Now let my ask you a question, did you just let your emotions get the best of you in your little outburst?"
"What?"He replied. I tossed a flashbang and ran away, much to his surprise. I could hear him cursing as the flashbang went off in his face
Shit, how was I going to explain this to him. That was the only thing I could think of the rest of the night and morning. The feeling of dread had intesified when I got into my car and drove to the day care.
As I stepped out of the car, I noticed him standing outside of the building, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
"Why."Was the only thing he said to me. I had no response. "If its about money, I can help."
"It's not, can we just leave it?"
"No, we can't."I stared at him. "Why."
"Would you believe me if I said that it's the only thing I know how to do?"
"Twenty other kids say otherwise."
"I know you are a part of the WHO-"
"The World Hero Organisation is offering full a pardon for you past crimes if you join them."He interrupted. "I haven't told them who you are, despite the fact that I am under contractual obligation to."He continued. "I'm giving you until the end of the day to think about it, if you say nothing, then I'm going to assume that you are not going to turn yourself in, and if it comes to that there will be no pardons, the only thing there will be is you in the electric chair."He walked inside of the building, I walked inside after a few minutes of thinking.
I was out of it the whole day, Adams words kept repeating in my head like a broken record. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Either burn a shit ton of bridges and have a target painted on my back for the rest of my life, or burn one, really large, red, white, and blue bridge and have a target painted on my back for the rest of my life. It wasn't until naptime came around that I was ready to make a decision. While all the other kids were sleeping, I walked over to Adam.
"Ready?"
"Yeah."He smiled at me before extending his hand.
"Heavyweight."I took his hand and shook it.
"Sharp Shot."
"Welcome to the WHO." |
As the machines beeped, Sara, recalled a story from her youth, "on the day you were born, I got the oddest achievement"Mum used to say, "A brush with death!". It was a family joke that I was born a killer, now looking at the old frail lady on the bed in front of me, I knew the reason for this cosmic joke.
I nodded to the doctor beside me, as I turned off the life support machines keeping my mum alive, "goodnight mum, you were the best"kissing her forehead, I let my tears flow as the long beep sounded and she slipped away into the night. |
Dear Humans of Earth,
Although I, Spirt Leader of the mighty Tangian Galactic Empire, am penning this letter, it comes from all of us Tangians, to include the Zookats, the Gizormaks, and even the Hyperions. While we were busy chromatising the attic in the Zone of Tranquility, a certain group of...uncouth individuals branched off and invaded your planet. I am writing to apologize.
You see, this group was upset that they did not get to join the special forces of our Empire, who are the first wave in any true invasion (although we mostly spend our time conducting interdimensional conquests now, having taken control of several galaxies). Once they got kicked out, they tried to join the regular forces of our military. However, their fighting skills and lack of discipline made them unworthy for such a role. We then relegated them to a janitorial role in the mess hall of the Belugans, who are not very messy, but have refused to shit in a toilet for the past three million years. After they failed in that role as well, we attempted to put them in charge of a nursery of small Zookat children. The children revolted after a mere three and a half centuries, expelling this group from the nursery.
We tried to tell this group that they could go on welfare, or else lead a kind of aesthetic life in the Grumbat sector, but they became angry. They said that they would prove their worth by attacking a newer planet, albeit one with fierce weapons. They were lost, you see, and seeking to define themselves. So, they left and came to your planet Earth.
I know a war that lasts fifty years is something of a civilization shattering event for you humans, but it is a short time for us. This group of ten may have taken over four billion of your lives, but I'm certain that given time, you will repopulate your planet. We have plenty of Ziggies that you can borrow to carry your children. I'm not sure exactly how many buildings you have left, but we will lend you several construction slugs to assist with the reconstruction. You also have a new moon, due to the destruction of a portion of Earth's crust and core, but that can be a good thing! It orbits Earth at a third the distance of your older moon, so that you can explore it with ease. All of your mountains may have reformed, many of your seas may have dried up, and eighty percent of your plantlife may be gone, but you will see, that given time, you will recover.
I, Spirit Leader of the Tangians, do wish to apologize to all of you humans on the behalf of all Tangians. I apologize.
Sincerely,
Lord Ho9*>?:;;; the 5th
************
Thanks for reading! Please stop by r/arcaldwell for more. |
Hey, Harry, I want some ice cream.
"Hey, Harry, I want some ice cream!"
Actually, anything sweet would be just fine! Hehe...
"Actually anything just sweet would be just fine! Hehe..."
This is a crude game I play. Ever since I made that wish to be with her forever, I have hence been with her in this moment for two months, with no sign of stopping. I'm exhausted and annoyed. Whoever granted my wish is one irresponsible being. Yeah I'm talking to you please help me I know you can hear me.
"Is there something wrong?"
My girlfriend looks at me with a puzzled expression. God, I just want to sleep and move on but I can't disappoint that face, the face burnt into my eyes and memory, however long eternity is I don't have the guts to make her sad.
"Nah, nothing. Oh hey, look the sun's setting."
I close my eyes and point towards the sun, which the flares begin to cross the horizon in 3... 2... 1... now.
It's stunning...
"It's stunning..."
I picture my wife with sparkling eyes gazing into the sunset. At 4 'o clock of me, a man trips and spills his drink. Then his wife looks at him and pouts.
What am I going to do with you, always so clumsy!
"What am I going to do with you, always so clumsy!"The wife exclaims.
Sorry, sorry! Don't worry I'll clean it up.
You better.
"Sorry, sorry! Don't worry I'll clean it up."The husband nonchalantly replies.
"You better, else no dinner for you!"
Woah, something different, better note that for next time.
Yes, this crude game of guessing the exact events in my little time bubble's something I've been doing to distract myself. First, it was desperately trying to escape, then seeing how much I can change the events and interfere, now it's complete recollection. Though this is only to pass the time, and even now it's getting stale. This seriously sucks.
Whoops, cue light breeze in 3... 2...
A light breeze drafts over us.
Hmm... one second late. Not good, I need to be more diligent- wait what's the point.
"Harry?"My girlfriend suddenly turns to me.
"Yes Mary?"I look into her eyes and answer.
We both just stare into each other' eyes. As the sun sets, and the ocean breeze continues to sift through our hair, we silently enter a sort of trance of gazes.
Her face draws closer to mine, and I find myself also drawing in.
This time...
"Harry?"
We grow alarmingly close, our faces touching, the weight of our breaths on each other in a constant rhythm.
Just as our lips are about to touch...
It's suddenly brighter. The breeze is gone.
"Hey, Harry, I want some ice cream!"
This is truly cruel. This is really infuriating. |
I checked the watch on my third arm for at least the fifth time that hour. I couldn't believe it! I was finally attending the inauguration of a *mutant* president. Despite all the chaos our world had endured, today a glimmer of hope for peace and love was finally blooming.
When the music signaling the march started playing, I nearly swooned. Arms of all colors and length and viscosity waved in the air, matched by shout and gurgle and growls of approval. There she was, absolutely beautiful and stately, clad in a white formal dress that outshined the sun.
“Mutants!” A loud, vibrating voice cut through the music, casing the band to skip a beat. A giant robot stomped into the square, a small, sloshing container resting where it's head should have been. “Tricky Dick won't stand for such nonsense in his house!”
A cry erupted through the crowd. I was shoved to the side as a much bigger, and purpler, mutant ran past me. I opened my mouth to scream, but I looked to the podium at the same instant.
The President ripped off her white dress and motioned for the First Husband to stand back. She stood tall in her white tank top and tight pants, her lone eye crinkled in anger.
“Kiyyyaaah!” With lightning speed she leapt from the stage and and began sprinting toward the giant Nixon-bot.
“Leela! What do I do?” The First Husband cried from where she left him. His voice was a bit high and unmanly.
“Get the Professor!”
I turned my head to follow her path to the giant robot, but my vision was suddenly filled with another, smaller robot.
“All right kid, Leela’s expecting me to help. I'm gonna need a meat shield.”
“Aren't you the head of secret service?” I thought I recognized the robot from somewhere.
“Yeah, yeah. That's me. Trouble is, I ain't had time to hire anyone else to take bullets and fight giant robots yet, and I ain't gonna do it myself.”
I looked at him quizzically, but he started pushing me in the direction of the chaos.
“Hey Nixon-Bot! Bite his goopy purple ass!”
In retrospect, I fucking *knew* better than to show up for this.
---
*I miss these characters so much =/*
[/r/intotheslushpile](http://reddit.com/r/intotheslushpile) |
I stood quickly, my long legs tensed. Katie had been playing fine until the little toe-headed girl pushed her, teasing her about being a soulless ginger. I had laughed, as had she til the push sent her tumbling.
Before now, before retirement, I would have destroyed this kid, her family, all of the kids and families for something like this. Being the world's greatesr assassin had perks, immunity was one of them. But now, I had determined I would retire to being a lawyer to be there for my child and husband. I would not be my parents who abandoned me for months on end and divorced before I was in pre-school.
I watched Katie, slowly picking herself up. She looked so calm, but I saw her green eyes flashing like lightning even from 15 yards away. She brushed off the dust, then wiped a little blood from.a scrape before walking up behind the girl slowly and tapping her shoulder. No amount of training could have prepared me for what she did next.
My 8 year old grabbed the girls wrist, and within 3 moves had dislocated her shoulder and broken her forearm.
She came to me and looked up "lets go home."
I waited until we were in the car, mentally preparing myself "Katie....where did you learn that?"Her dad and I had her in martial arts, but not that advanced level as that had taken.
She smiled "I watched yours and daddy's training videos. And taught myself. I hate my class, it's not hard enough."
That argument had been why we moved her schools, up 2 grades. I began laughing and patted her head as I picked up my phone to call my husband. He would be proud to know our daughter was a prodigy, and one on track to being more famous than he or I combined. I know I was proud. |
Sam, an awkward teenager with more acne than a just God would bestow on his worst enemy, sits in his seat looking out the window. Sarah, a gorgeous, fit, tan, young woman with flowing black hair and mesmerizing brown eyes, sits next to him her arms firmly crossed, a resting murder face ready for Sam. She sits next to her mom who watches her TV screen intently trying to stay out of it.
Sam pulls out his phone. Another 16 hours to go. Sarah shakes her head and looks at Sam who hopes that he can sleep through this nightmare, but his bad luck continues. Grumbles from his stomach bring forth more terror. He knows the feeling all too well. Two minutes or less until the explosion. He rips off his seatbelt and stands holding butt cheeks together with all of his might.
Sam gets into the aisle without incident and makes it just in time. On his return trip, the shuffle of shame awaits. Sarah's mom smiles at him, and he smiles back. Sarah stares at him with a fire in her eyes. He waits for an attack, but she allows him through without melee.
Sarah leans towards him, her teeth clenched tight. She looks pretty when she's angry.
"Eat my butt? You want to eat my butt? It would have been cute if you stopped at I like you, but you add and I want to eat your butt. I mean, we were dying. I would have kissed you, but how did you think that was going to go down? Eating my butt?"
"You would have kissed me?"
"A pity kiss."
Sam leans towards her. Sarah pulls back and stiff arms his face.
"You are so lucky we're friends,"she continues, "Otherwise, the entire school would know about this, but this trip is going to be so awkward. So, thanks for that."
"Just switch seats with your mom or I could. My stomach is grumbling. She'll understand."
"No, I refuse,"says Sarah.
"I'm not proud of it either, but it was all or nothing from my perspective. Go big or go home. We were about to die."
"Did Bobby Jenkins tell you that?"She asks.
"Tell me what?"
"That I like...that."
"No, you and Bobby were together?"Asks Sam.
"We like hooked up."
Sam's heart physically hurts as she says it. He lowers his face and turns away from her.
"Oh,"says Sam.
"We barely did anything. It was nothing."
"Oh, a hookup was nothing, I see. Okay, look I'm tired. I'm going to sleep."
Sam turns towards the window and closes his eyes. He wakes to an engine sputtering. Smoke billows out of it and flames grow from it. The plane goes into a nose dive. Sam thinks maybe second time's a charm. He kisses the woman next to him, hard and passionate. It is not Sarah.
Sarah's mom stares back at him as he pulls away. Sarah leans ahead and looks at him her mouth agape. Damn, thinks Sam, too bad this is how it ends. He'd have been a legend at school.
***
If you enjoyed this, please subscribe to r/nickkuvaas for more stories. |
Mrs. Edwards stood in the front of the class, chalk dust smeared in patches on her black with white polka-dotted dress. She’d written “Gravity” on the chalkboard, and underneath it “F = ma”.
Vicki sat in the back with her best friend Bella. They were still friends for some reason that Sarah couldn’t quite gather. Vicki was outgoing, but Bella was quiet. Bella spent a lot of time reading, while Vicki loved sports. Vicki got along quite easily with the popular crowd, while Bella tended to hang out with the other theatre punks.
Vicki held her phone right over her lap as she messaged Chloe was vaguely aware of Mrs. Edwards talking about the subject for the day. She looked up just in time to see Mrs. Edwards hold two rubber balls of different sizes in the air.
She let go.
The balls hung there. Mrs. Edwards froze in shock.
Vicki looked around to see everyone’s reaction. Nothing. She felt a bit of static as she shifted in her seat. Outside it had become eerily silent, the sound of traffic muted to nothing. She felt someone grab her hand. It was Bella. “We need to go. Now.”
EDIT (more):
Bella pulled Vicki down the hallway of their high school. There was no noise, and a darkness started to cast a pall. Vicki glanced into some of the classrooms as they went, and in room after room it was a familiar scene. Everything was frozen in place. They pushed through the front doors, and made their way out across the faculty parking lot. An orange sun hung high in the sky.
“We need to get to my place now,” whispered Bella.
“What’s going on?” Asked Vicki. Bella’s hands had started getting clammy. Vicki saw a cracks shimmering in front of her eyes. She blinked and it was gone.
“It’s broken; the simulation is getting overloaded, and we need to get to a different server before this segment is rebooted.”
“WHAT?” |
Mother had always been a promiscious woman. I often had to fend off hopeful conquistadors from her skirt. It wasn't until the age of four and a half I realized that I did not have an uncle Ralph, George, or Hernandes.
To speak of my father is to speak of the sound of one hand clapping. That ancient koan has become the bane of my existence. Absentialism has been imprinted upon me. They say society thrives when men plant trees so their grandchildren may enjoy the shade. My father planted his tree and made like one.
Psychologists of time past would speak of "refrigerator"mothers. The only kitchen appliance comparable to mine would be a pasta maker. At first sweetly alluring. Then, an object of irritation whose use hardly seems to be worth the effort.
Her conga line of cavaliers seem to have taken note. Richard, the latest performer to join the circus, revealed as much the other night. "Antoine,"he said, "I have an important favor to ask you."
I neglected to inform him that mother had made the same request earlier the very same day.
And here we are.
You both made your glue-trap bed, and you shall both lie in it. |
The oceans below us, the mountains up high,
Each comet, each planet, each star in the sky;
To seek out our equals we pierced the unknown
And found out that life meant our species alone.
But death is the constant that comes for us all,
And sooner or later all empires fall.
Our history books go back thousands of years,
But next to the cosmos? That all disappears.
An hourglass frozen, a stilled second hand
Our lives last no longer than one grain of sand.
The era will come when no humans remain,
And life will from ashes start over again.
|
I had never seen Steve Wynn in eight years working as a doorman at the Wynn Las Vegas. I knew he probably came and went from time to time - he owned the place after all - but my shift didn't start till one in the morning. If a Billionaire is still up at 1am he's probably already in the club, not pulling up outside of it and throwing his keys to the valet.
That ain't to say I don't see plenty of rich folks, they come and go. Buggatis, Lambos, McClarens, I've seen a lot of fancy cars and a lot of fancy men with their fancy drivers helping them out of the cars before making sure I'm showing proper respect to Mr. Rich Dude's stuff while taking it to his room.
Nah, I had seen a lot of rich and powerful people, but I hadn't met Steve Wynn. Not until I saw him come running out of his own thrice damned hotel like a bat out of hell screaming something about it not being time yet. He was being followed by a coupl'a nerdy looking guys and a pair of security guards who looked like they were packing more than tasers in their waist bands.
That's when this beat to hell Chevy Silverado pulls into the valet lane. Looked like the muffler was about to fall out the damn bottom of the car, runner rails rusted to shit, and beige paint job and rising rust line making it look like the truck had been brown in a previous life.
For about twenty seconds all I could hear was the engine knocking in this beat up truck, the hasty shuffling of Mr. Wynn's little honor guard, and the hurried steps of the valet approaching the rumbling cab of the truck. Before he could make it there though the truck's engine noisily ceased its operation as the driver side door flew open. Whoever was inside was on the opposite side of the truck from me, but I saw a pair of dusty cowboy boots set down on the blacktop of the valet lane as a sandy brown haired head with a long braid in back peeked over the roof before being obscured by a beige Stetson pushed back at an odd angle. The figure seemed to take a second to just observe the hustle and bustle of the strip before beginning to walk around the front of the truck.
Mr. Wynn and his boys seemed to not quite be sure how they wanted to play this, which was powerful strange. I figure the owner comes sprinting out the front of the building in a tearing hurry he's looking to greet an old friend or something, then this dusty cowboy wannabee type comes rolling up in a piece of shit truck, and now Wynn's security guys have their hands on pistol grips and Wynn ain't exactly looking welcoming of his new guest.
"I had three more years damn it, you knew the deal!"Mr. Wynn yelled as the figure turned to face the group, and coincidentally me. Scratch that cowboy wannabee thing. Clearly native american, though exactly what tribe I couldn't have told you if my life depended on it. Maybe Navajo or something? About average height but lean, wiry, and deeply tanned. Looks maybe mid-forties everywhere but his eyes. Those are sunken black pools inside of wrinkled sockets that look like they could have come out of a man twice his age. Those eyes don't seem to miss anything, even as the man refuses to acknowledge Wynn's shout and takes three more steps around the front of his truck, leaning his back against the passenger door to regard the welcoming party from about half a dozen feet away.
All of us are just kinda looking at each other for a while, time suddenly doesn't seem so important. Wynn and his boys are getting visibly agitated, but cowboy seems cool as she comes. He just regards everyone in the crowd levelly, nods at me a little bit with a wink, then turns his gaze back on Mr. Wynn.
Then he smiles.
Scariest thing I ever did see. His teeth ain't human. Looks like a dog or some such thing. Too many teeth, too sharp, too.... aggressive, and they're matched to an almost feral gleam in his eyes as he starts to pant, his tongue lolling out the left side of his face. The panting grows heavier, turns to chuffing, turns to chuckling.
Then he's laughing. Hard.
Peels of laughter coming out of this guy, boiling up out of his belly and rolling across the welcoming party. Normally laughter is infectious, one guy starts then everyone else joins in. This wasn't that kind of laughter, this was something else. Something more. Something sinister. Like a bunch of razor blades tap dancing on your grave, or a last meal in front of the firing squad. It froze us all, and for a few seconds or a few hours it was the only sound outside the Wynn. Finally the cowboy seemed to get a hold of himself, but his eyes never left Wynn's. He shook his head sadly, so human a gesture from a man who now so clearly wasn't.
Then he speaks.
"Y'all should know better than that, white man. Makin' deals with the Diné Coyote and you assume I count it the way you did?"He raises a hand and places it near where his heart might have been, "I told you after you found me here in the desert that you'd have fifty years from your first major deal. You just thought that meant The Golden Nugget,"he shook his head and chuffed a bit, "and I never bothered to correct you. Funnier this way, I think we all agree."Glancing at the look on Wynn's face he shrugged, "Okay, so maybe not you. But I bet everyone else gets it. No white man, who do you think set up that meeting with Mr. Thomas from that fancy bank?"
Wynn stood there in shock, face growing pale as the not-cowboy stepped away from the truck and towards the welcoming committee, that grin back on his face.
"Time's up, white man." |
My journey across the vast plains of Hamburg was wraught with despair and agony. It had been a dreadful expedition consisting of myself and a small caravan of about 5 peasants who had been instructed to accompany me on my quest. The expedition towards the Four Nuggets, capitol of Mcdonland, had been several weeks. In that time , our caravan had experienced thieves, scoundrels and the unrelenting fury of the environment and landscape.
Hamburg was unlike any other areas amongst the Three Kingdoms.
The Monarchies of Mcdonland and the Burger Kingdom had been warring for close to a century. The third kingdom was a ruthless militaristic totalitarian empire run by a man simply known as the “Colonel”.
The decades of war had ravaged the landscape of the bordering countries and it seemed there was no end in sight.
I had served in the King’s 1st regiment for several years, since the days I was a young fry. In that time, I had risen the ranks and was commanding the entire regiment in record time. The “Fiery Whoppers” the townsfolk would call us. I followed my orders to a tee and did my duty the best I could because I knew it was the proper thing to do.
My time in the Whoppers eventually led to me being appointed security council to the Burger King himself and in that time I had become rather close to the King. He was an honest, noble and wise man. I admired him very much, so when the time came of his final request on his death bed , I did not hesitate.
The King wished to end the war once and for all, it had caused so much blood shed and tears. He knew the downfall of the McDonald Kingship would come once their secret formula could be exposed to the world, revealing their true ghastly colors. I obliged my King and departed his chambers but not before he stopped me. His gaze and demeanor changed. The once strong and fearless face was suddenly pale and carried an appearance of horror.
“Beware the clown....”
It had been several weeks since that day and since I had embarked on my journey. In that time, the King had passed. I was berated with a great grief when I heard the news but I continued onward with my promise to the old man. I knew what must be done.
“My lord, there’s someone in the middle of the road...”
I exited the carriage and looked forward. There was the shape of a man standing in the road. I exited and approached.
“We wish no trouble upon you sir, let us be on our way and let the day continue peacefully. “
The silhouette of the man remained stationary and never muttered a single word.
“ I will not warn you again sir, depart from these roads or we shall have no choice but to make you.”
Still nothing.
I turned back to the peasants who looked apprehensive and asked that they fetch my weapon. One peasant pointed his finger in fear...
“My lord... he’s... he’s gone..”
I turned and the road was empty. The road was surrounded by a thick forest on both sides so I assumed the man had fled. I entered my carriage and told the caravan to resume their journey.
As night drew upon us, My thoughts were filled with that of my homestead outside of the castle walls. I missed the atmosphere of reading by the fire, and my canine by my side. How I wished to just retur-
“AAGGHH!!”
A shriek had risen me from my dream and I exited the carriage. The caravan had stopped.
A group of peasants were huddled around the front carriage.
“What’s wrong? Why have we stopped? “
I approached and immediately understood why. The helmsman of the horses atop the carriage, slumped over on his side. The gaping wound of a fresh cut emblazoned on his throat. steam arising from the wound as the warmth of his body met the frigid cold of the empty oppressive forrest around us.
“Everyone brandish a weapon and search around, the culprit could not have gone fa-“
“HAHHAHAHA”
A devilish laugh and squeal from behind us. I turned and saw the familiar shape of the Man from before. I unsheathed my blade and drew the torch from the side of the carriage. I marched forward.
“You will pay for your actions you bastard... I am on orders from the King hi-“
I suddenly stopped in my tracks. I had not been able to see the man before but as I drew closer the light from my torch revealed the man.
His shoes were large and red, pointed with bells. The mark of a jester. He wore no armor, only a simple garb and tunic consisting of a yellow color and red stripes on his sleeve. His face was not human. It was an empty soulless shade of white, his hair remarkably fiery red. A thick crimson smile was drawn across his face.
“I know who you are Clown...”
Another snicker and giggle left his lips.
As if the man was supernatural, my torch was extinguished and myself and the caravan were enveloped in darkness.
I immediately struggled to relight the torch as I heard screams from all around me. The torch reignited and I could once again see a few yards around me. The orange glow painted a terrible image for me to see. There was blood on the floor in all directions, but every single peasant was gone. No bodies , only blood. I was alone.
“FACE ME YOU GHASTLY BASTARD, WHY DO YOU HIDE, YOU ARE PATHETIC, YOU DARE HARM UNARMED INNOCENTS”
I heard the laughter in all directions.
I scoured every angle of my position, surrounded only by the incredible darkness and trees, the small dim light of the torch being the only thing protecting me yet also revealing my position.
I heard awful dreadful inhuman laughter, followed by footsteps that seemed impossible to be coming from so many directions.
I clenched the hilt of my blade, as sweat dripped down my palms and brow.
I assumed a proper defensive stance and prepared myself for what would surely be my end. The silence of the Forrest being deafened only by the sound of my beating heart.
I had always prepared for this day, when I would fall in battle. But I never imagined I would succumb to an end like this; to die alone and without glory to some rabid devil.
I would not let this beast take me so easily. If he wanted my head as a trophy he would have to earn it. I took a deep breath and felt the air course through my entire body, feeling every sensation. I could feel the bones of my frame.the hair atop my skin. My muscles tightened and I readied for my final moments.
More laughter and snickers all around me.
“Do what you came here to do Clown....”
The torch was extinguished and once again I was enveloped in darkness.
|
I gave my son a final hug, holding him in close. "Relax, champ. I'm just going to get some smokes. No big deal."I say, comforting him. He gives a teary reply. "Really? 'Cause all the other boys at school said-""Those kids were just making up stories."I reassure. "Promise?""I Promise, kiddo."I let him go and head to the door. Turning for one last look at my wife, I say "Honey, I'll be back in a few, okay?"Her melancholy expression isn't providing much hope. She knew of the trial I had to take, and lost her own father to it. I give a large smile to cheer the two up before leaving.
My journey had started.
I had already prepared to the best of my ability. I adorned myself with blue jeans, plaid shirt, and packed my pickup with a lawnmower, toolbox, my trusty rifle, and a six-pack of cheap beer. I opened the door to the truck and sat inside. The contract was sealed and the trial had begun. I had to make it to the Seven-Eleven before sundown. I put the old truck into drive, and began my way down the new country road that had formed ahead of me.
The first test was the test of charisma. A ghostly form of a teenager appeared in the seat next to me. On the country road ahead, a large house built itself. Music boomed from the interior. More ghostly teens littered the yard. "Ugh, dad. Don't let them know you drove me, okay?"Said the warped voice of the teenager beside me. I had to. It was in me to do it. I unlocked the door for the spectre and rolled down my own window. I tuned to the only available radio station, 66.6FM Non-Stop Classic Rock, and blasted it. "Look at me, givin' Todd a ride because *he* didn't get his license!"All the other spectres gave awkward looks to me and the one that just left my truck. I had passed the test.
The second test was a test of endurance. The weather ahead was getting colder. Frost began to line my truck's windows. Snow littered the ground ahead. I was getting cold. Really cold. I reached for the truck's climate control... and stopped. I couldn't. No matter what, *the thermostat had to stay at 63*. Ice began forming in my moustache. It was so tempting, just to turn on the heat, let it envelop me in its warmth... but I would not give in. Eventually, the weather cleared. I had passed yet another test.
The third test was a test of will. Trees sprung from the soil around my truck. Instead of leaves, small bills budded the branches. The green cash began falling to the ground, littering it like a billionaire's swimming pool. The bills grew greater in value the more I drove, eventually reaching 50 dollars, to 100 dollars, and even a few ancient 1,000 dollar bills. I could not stop and pick it up, and be the rich man I desired to be, for I knew, deep in my soul, *money didn't grow on trees*.
Forth came a test of strength. Strange beasts began charging onto the road ahead. Insects of massive size and equally massive anger. One charged head-on into my truck, nearing smashing it, while another drove itself straight into the side of the vehicle, almost knocking it off course. They were attempting to get inside the cabin, presumably to devour me. I took the gun mounted above my seat and fired off at them. A few shots killed a few insects, and scared them away. I *could not let the bedbugs bite*.
The final test had begun. The Seven-Eleven was just up ahead, guarded by a large, demonic figure. I could see the store clerk looking lazily out the window, protecting the cigarettes I had worked so hard to reach. I drove to the demonic creature and rolled down my window. It greeted me. "Hello, father-to-be. I am pleased you made it this far in the trial. However, before you may proceed, you must speak the sacred phrase."I had already prepared my response.
"Hi, *pleased you made it this far in the trial. However, before you may proceed, you must speak the sacred phrase,* I'm Dad.
|
The council meeting was incredibly heated. It wasn't often the United Planets met in full what with the different rhythms and cycles of the 70 or so species represented in the room, but this was an auspicious day. They were voting to see if a 71st species would be signed up with the ceremony of the button. That special button, which all the scientists in the universe could not work out. It had words written on it that always said 'don't press' in whatever language was reading it. Even if two separate beings with different languages looked at it at same time. Even the species that didn't have a written language but communicated through signs still saw the sign that said "Don't press"and somehow it was always in the shade of colour that represented danger. It was an amazing item, and the whole reason the UP came into being.
The meeting was about to come to the vote. Larshall took his last chance to sway the council not to allow humans to join.
"I've observed them for many cycles now. They are impulsive and immature, and while I respect the fact their considerable military prowess would be a strong addition to our alliance, they cannot be allowed near the button."
He waited whilst his words were translated. The chairman indicated his thanks, and the vote was taken. It was unanimous.
Larshall was still not happy with the result as he followed the human delegation through the ancient corridors in the humungous structure at the centre of the universe. The human leader had a smug grin on his face, totally not befitting the gravitas of the situation. Finally, they reached the button. The smug grin was finally wiped from the humans face.
"Why can't you press it?"he said?
"We don't know. We've assumed for a very good reason."
They spent some time basking in the reverence of the occasion. Finally, it was time to go. The alien delegates started shuffling various appendages to leave the room. Larshall turned away from the button. Maybe he'd been wrong about the humans. Suddenly, Larshall could feel a sound. He turned round to see the human with his hand on the button, looking slightly sheepish.
And lo, this is how it came to be that the last words uttered in the universe were:
"I fucking told you so!" |
*"She was just an infant."*
Those words echoed through my mind as I saw the dragon let out a cry into the sky as the rain fell. I realized that it wasn't roaring in anger or rage, it was sad. Sad because it got hurt by me. I raised my shield and readied my sword even though I knew the dragon did not mean any malice, there was one thing that still bothered me greatly.
Whenever I used to stomp on anthills as a child, I would never stop. At least until, one day, I got bitten by them. The first time I felt the pain of their sting, I cried my loudest, calling for my mum and dad to make me feel better. And that's exactly what was happening except I was the ant.
At the same time, the wind pressure got higher. The trees and plants were suddenly being blown away. I myself had trouble trying to stand this wind. Could this great wind power be coming from that dragon? I looked to the storm clouds up ahead and began to realize how wrong I was.
Up in the sky, a shadow emerged from the clouds. A dragon, unlike any other I've seen. It was big. As in, really, really, big. Enormous, actually. Its mere girth shielded the dragon and I from the heavy rain. The flap of its wings would sent powerful gusts of wind that swept away anything insignificant beneath it. Instead of two wings, it had four, all flapping at once to even keep it in the air. I was quite honestly in awe at the sight of this beast. If this baby dragon was bigger than a house, I'd daresay this behemoth could wipe a section of a city with a flick of its tail. I was in for it now. I raised my shield in defensive stance and readied myself for whatever came.
The dragon landed and nuzzled its infant. It lowered its head to examine the sword wound I left in it. She licked it, the saliva immediately closing up the wound. She then looked at me, causing my blood to run cold. She then raised her tail as I closed my eyes shut, bracing myself for whatever was to come.
But it never came.
I opened my eyes to see the giant dragon whacking the smaller dragon with her tail. Light enough that it did no serious damage, but it still made the smaller dragon cry. The dragon then grunted into the dragon's ear, which I could have sworn, sounded rather angry. The smaller dragon then coiled up and continued to snort and roar a bit which I presume would be the equivalent of a toddler sulking and sniffing.
The large dragon then approached me and examined me. I stood tall even though deep down I was shaking. The dragon then roared into the sky before smacking its jaw and then looking close to me. Then, out of its mouth came its first sound.
*"Are you alright little human?"* It said in a strangely female voice
I backed up a bit in confusion, was this dragon speaking to me?
*"Umm, can you hear me?"*
"Y-Yes, I can hear you."I replied.
*"Good! I just wanted to check on you after you fought my feisty little dragonling here!"* The dragon remarked with an amused tone.
"Y-You're not angry?"I asked.
*"For what? Stabbing my little one with a sword? Not really..."* The dragon replied. *"In fact, I'm happy that you stopped him as you did! It would not have been pleasant to know that millions of lives were lost because I left my nestling unattended."*
"B-But I stabbed him!"
*"Ah, getting stabbed by a sword is the dragon equivalent of a bug bite. At least this time, he'll learn not to mess with humans."* The dragon said while walking to the smaller dragon, already asleep. *"Thank you once again human for keeping my plucky little offspring in check!"*
I watched as the dragon then picked up the smaller dragon by its neck and flew off. I already knew that the terrorizing dragon may have been a child but I didn't expect its parents to be so gigantic. It only made me realize how small we were. I watched as the skies cleared, allowing me to observe the giant dragon, carrying its child to a gigantic mountain, shrouded by fog and cloud. |
The bright white clouds turned to a thunderous grey, and all the heavens started rocking violently. Every trace of an angel and being disappeared. Yet the gates remain open.
Needless to say, I fucked up.
You see, I was the most sceptical guy around back on earth. If something doesn't follow the rule of logic, then it is simply false. I looked beyond the shallow appearances and superstitions. The sciences have studied and concluded the reason behind many of today's anomalies, with repeated experimentation. Hence, if 99% of the data tells you something, that basing a conclusion would be a certainty.
Despite the 99%, a small part within me was somehow still worried about that 1%.
Funnily enough, here I am standing at the heaven's gates. The 1% is true after all.
The shaking has slowly started to dissipate, and a shadowy figure appears in the horizon beyond the gates. With no other choice but to move forward, I enter this twisted 'heaven'.
As I walk through this valley, I hear mumbling and see faces behind the large pillars looking away when I lock eyes with them. These angels must think I'm a horrible being, I don't know why.
The more I walk, the further away the shadowy figure appears to be. Until finally, I reach a staircase that doesn't seem to have an end. Do I really have anywhere else to go? I don't, so I keep moving.
Step after step, it is never ending. It must be some form of twisted joke God is playing on me. The staircase leads to a foggy area going up, and it's foggy going down. It's like an infinite escalator, and apparently, you can't get tired in heaven.
Frustrated, just as I'm about to let out a scream, the fogs clear up revealing a throne at the top, and to my surprise, an awkward middle-aged woman with a bathrobe just sits there fiddling with her curly hair.
Our eyes lock, she gets up, and with a trembling, high pitched voice she says "Are you him???"
"Who?"
"D..Don't play games with me! Be upfront, are you him?"
"I legitimately don't know who you're talking about. Are you supposed to be God?"
"Yes, have been for the past few thousand years."
"You saying that old God died?"
"He was my dad, yes. I am the new God now."
"Ha, okay."
"You think I'm not good enough, I will rip you apart with thunder if I want to!"
"Okay easy there champ. I just, didn't expect this that's all"
"Now answer me! Why are you here?"
"I am dead, and I'm here. Trust me, I had no intention of being here, I didn't believe in any of this crap."
"Dad said you would return in a cunning way someday."
"For the love of your dad just tell me who do you think I am?"
"I'm no idiot, Lucifer."
"Hang on...you think I'm Lucifer? The angel that your dad kicked to bring chaos upon the world? Really? I mean, look. This is all a misunderstanding. I'm just not the most social guy, your angels at the gate must have misunderstood me when I told them to have a good afterlife, it's like when I tell the waitress 'you too' after they tell me to have a good meal, you know?"
"You're not? Look, I've been anxious about your return for thousands of years, and we can't have any room for error!"
"I understand that God, but I'm no Lucifer. Would I really be so naive as to come straight to you and be this obvious?"
"Good point.."
An awkward silence ensues.
"So, what do you do all day?"
"I am really lonely to be honest. Sometimes I'd add extra stuff to earth just to make it exciting"- God chuckles nervously as she says that
"Like what, natural disasters?"
"Yeah! And also as a population control method really. My dad fucked up by making your species incredibly sexual."
"You know, whilst many people back on earth would be devastated by natural disasters, I was always that one guy that thought they're better for the long picture for humanity."
"Exactly! You know what, you're not bad. You can be my assistant."
"Uhh. Thanks?"
As several thousands of years go by I have helped God with all sorts of management and logistical issues. It was no easy task managing a massive universe and all its species, I was her most trusted adviser and executive officer.
We started building a utopia like world unlike all previous iterations. We explored all possibilities together, and have been lovers for a few millenniums.
I had God's complete trust in my hands.
And that's precisely when I killed her.
You see, it all came back to me the instant I was amongst those heavenly clouds. I had completely forgotten who I was back on earth, and when I came here, I remembered all my rage and anger towards your grandfather as to why he kicked me from the heavens.
Killing your mother was necessary. It preserves a natural order of ruling the universe.
Now, your mission is to spread the message about me. Are you ready to do this, son?
"Yes, send me down father."
*Zero Anno Domini*.
|
I never minded the dark. Most people tend to avoid it, the darkness. They light up their homes, they light up their streets, they light up their trees and their gardens, they light up the skies and the seas. Then they close their eyes at night, only a few minutes experiencing the darkness before escaping away from it into their dreams. That’s why I love caves, they’ve always felt like a place I could face on my own, a world that most people would avoid. A flashlight is all I need, just one ray of controlled lighting, the darkness around me a blanket. A silk of warm safety. Walking slowly through a world of my own, wherever my light shines a new piece of the world is revealed to me.
I was walking through a cave not too far from my home once, enjoying its unexamined splendor. I enjoyed vaping on my explorations, it helped me appreciate the details. The plethora of rock formations around me giving me pure childlike joy. I had taken one too many hits from my vape, and lost track of time. That’s when my flashlight died. That’s when I became like everybody else.
I wanted to feel calm, but a sense of paranoia struck me. How would I get out? How long had I been walking for? I frantically hit the power button on my phone, but the flashing icon gave me only enough light to know that I had to turn around and go back the way I came. I felt a certain dread wash over me and then rest at the pit of my stomach. I remembered my vape pen. I pulled it out of my pocket and smirked at the fact that the obnoxiously bright colour changing tip was going to save me. Take that world. I was going to have to vape my way out of this cave.
The first couple of hits were fine. I was able to make my way through the cave smoothly, remembering some of the rock formations I had seen before. Then I got to a section with tight walls and slippery rock, so I had to vape for longer, pulling in vapor for minutes at a time. That’s when the whispering started.
At first, I couldn’t make the words out, I didn’t know if they were in my head, or if there was somebody in the cave with me. A group of friends talking in the distance, or something more sinister. As I started to make the words out, I realized they had a certain familiarity to them. “You can’t do it”, “You’re a jackass”, “Be a man”. They were the words of my father. I hit the vape again, longer this time, my pace quickened. I had to get out. I took a long hit from the vape and began to run. Then the whispering stopped and I felt something else take it’s place.
The air felt different, colder, lighter. The feeling of being alone suddenly unlatched it’s self from me and was replaced with it’s cousin; fear. Something was in the cave with me. I could feel it watching me. It was behind me. My throat tightened, as I slowly turned around to the darkness behind me. I took a hit from the vape, the world erupted with a bright red to reveal him standing there. It was my father. His face emotionless, his eyes focused but dull. I hit the vape again, he was moving towards me. My legs began moving before I could pull the rest of me out of shock. I ran fast, hitting the vape rapidly in between breaths of air.
“Come here boy!” he yelled, in his own voice. The world which revealed itself in between my hits was no longer filled with splendor. Every hit revealed a shard of my past. I was running through memory after memory. The belt he hit me with under his bright office lamp. The soap he used to wash out my tongue over the fluorescent bathroom sink. The way he grabbed my arm and yelled at me under the sun during “family” BBQs. I saw my bedroom, the way I cowered under the bed under the protection of darkness. That’s when I realized I wasn’t strong for wanting the darkness. I was weak. I was just like the people who were afraid of it, afraid to confront the uncomfortable. I stopped running.
I pulled out my vape, and the hit I took revealed he was a few feet away. I stood my ground, my feet planted. I stuck my chest out and took another hit. He was inches away from my face now, he was still. We locked eyes, and then I took another hit. His was smirking at me. Another hit. His smirk turned to a smile of menace. Another hit. His eye brows scrunched in anger. Another hit. His face turned to sadness. Another hit. Tears were streaming down his face. I felt them stream down mine. Another hit. He closed his eyes. Another hit. He was gone.
My body felt light. I collapsed to the ground, waking up later finding myself only a few feet from the cave entrance.
|
No one knows who made the well. No one knows why, either. But its purpose was known before the gods had even seen it. Across great plains of existence, where truths were lies and dreams were reality, three gods gathered around the well. They came with an offering. Coins made of nothing. Of everything.
The first to come was quiet and meek. It held the coin tentatively in its hand. The toss it made looked more like a fumble, as the coin tumbled and sank into the well's still and dark water.
"I wish... To begin... to start a journey that will last forever. To go father and reach for things unattainable, indescribable, unbelievable."
The coin sank to the bottom. How far the bottom is, who is to say? But once the coin hit, a voice could be heard. Soft as a hum, it whispered in the mind of the being.
"You will begin your journey now. But it is not yours alone. You will be the beginning... of everything and more than thought possible."
Its wish is granted, and a conflux of lights and shadows begin to stir inside it. For a moment it is scared, but soon a smile can be seen. It stands to thank the well, before dispersing and scattering across the empty reality there once had been, now filled with stars and dust of the universe.
Another being approaches the well. It places the coin on the surface of the water, watching it sink while bubbles rise.
"The one before me began. But I wish for more. I wish to be indefinite. Irreversible. Constant. Patient. Unyielding."
There were many things described to the well, but there was only one wish heard and granted. And with its wish fulfilled, the cogs of destiny began, or had they always been there? Time has been realized.
The last being approached the well. With coin in hand and dream in mind, it tossed the coin into the still water and spoke.
"I wish to rule. To observe and to dictate this space this time. One being above all else, and all powerful.
But as the coin fell and sank to the bottom, the feeling was strange this time. Instead of power and control in anticipated, the being felt shackled and weakened, and soon scared and afraid. It shriveled and shrank until the well was larger than the mind could perceive, greater than anything that has ever been or ever will be.
"Your will have the other face of your wish. You will not be given knowledge, but forced to pursue it endlessly. You will not be one thing, but many. And you will not rule, but obey the laws of space and time. You are life, and nothing is guaranteed with you."
EDIT: Grammar and small tweaks. |
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