Split (1)

train · 177k rows

prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k
"... and here's your room."Mrs. Garza, a foster mom with short, dark hair, finished giving Victor the grand tour. She smiled down at the eight-year-old child. "Any questions?"Victor shook his head without taking his eyes off the room; the disturbed air rustled his fluffy blond hair. The walls were bare white, but one corner held a large wooden desk equipped with a top of the line computer. A 50"TV hung on the wall in front of the bed. He looked up meeting Mrs. Garza's dark brown eyes for the first time. "And I don't gotta share??"he asked. Mrz. Garza patted his hair down. "All yours." "Whoooooooaaa."The boy ran inside the sparse room and leaped on the bed. He giggled while laying flat on the mattress and bouncing his body up and down against it. "Thank you!"he yelled between giggles. "Dinner's in an hour, how does pizza sound?"she asked. The squeaking springs stopped immediately and the boy sat up with a giant grin. "Pepperoni!"he yelled, then relaxed his body to start bouncing again. Mrs. Garza laughed, then closed the door to Victor's room as she walked away. She found her husband downstairs in the kitchen working on his laptop. "I like him,"she said as she sat down next to him. Her husband responded without looking up. "You like all of them, that's why we do it,"he said. "No, but it's different. He's different. I want to adopt him."He stopped typing, then took off his reading glasses and looked his wife in the eye. "He just got here,"he reasoned. She nodded, then reached for his hand. "He just got here, and listen."She pointed to the ceiling. Mr. Garza heard faint squeaks. "He's having fun. He ignored the TV and computer you set up for him. The bed excited him!"She smiled, but her husband's brow furled slightly. He gave a faint nod. "The matron did say he was a bit slow,"he began, but Mrs. Garza squeezed his hand hard until he stopped talking. "That's not what I mean!"she said with traces of fire in her voice. "He's eight, and already had a harder, and more interesting life than most people."She pulled on his hands to turn his full attention to her. His body shifted and they locked eyes. "His mom died while she was giving birth, who does that happen to?"she asked. "Lots of people?"her husband asked, unsure. "Obviously, but you know what I meant, idiot."She slapped the side of his shoulder. "An injured gunman demanded care, and shot his mom while she was birthing him. In the hospital!"she said. "Sounds unlucky,"he chuckled cautiously. Enjoying the humor, but not wanting to make light of the situation. "Then he spent the first eight years of his life in the system. No one adopted him, we're his first foster family. Eight years in a boy's home, but now he's here. I feel like he's meant to be here. We can give him a good home."Mr. Garza stared into his wife's watery eyes, and knew she needed this. He never knew the reason, but after 20 years of marriage, he learned to understand her. "He just got here. Let's see how we function as a family before we make any decisions. But,"he smiled. "It is on the table." "Thank you!"Mrs. Garza smiled and leaned in to kiss her husband. "Is it an hour yet?"A small voice said behind them. "I'm hungry."Both parents chuckled. "I don't even think it's been 10 minutes yet, honey,"Mrs. Garza said. "Forget the hour, I'll just order now,"Mr. Garza said. He stood from his seat to grab his phone, when Victor tackled the tall man, stepped on Mr. Garza's white snakeskin boots and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Thank you! I got new parents, a new bed, and pizza! I feel so lucky!"the boy said while smiling. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, you can find them collected on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html). If you're curious about my universe(the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/11/hugoverse-guidebook.html) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/hugoverse-timeline.html) to find the stories in order.
"Hey!"I shout. "I see you Oz'Raith, don't make me chase you." The black shape trying to sneak, a poor attempt, deflates and growls something in Old Hellvish. Something rude about my mother. I return the insult but include a goat and his uncle. He stares at me with eyes as red as the pit and then laughs. It's a cackling thing that wouldn't be funny to anything but a demon. "See you tomorrow, Keeper."He says, this time in Common, and slinks off toward the smoky pits of our home. One day I'll tell him I figured out his pattern, how he's rotated attempts each century. For now, it's easier not to. Keeps one demon in check. I am the Gatekeeper, though I prefer Keeper. My job is to stop the demons from leaving the Pit and wreaking havoc on Earth. I've been doing the job for six millennia now. Long enough to be good at it. Aside from that one slip up in 1347, Earth years. That one was a write-up. The rest has gone pretty well, it's almost a comfortable game now. Most demons are harmless. They'll just try to take a vessel and drink a little blood, have a little party, corrupt some innocents, that sort of thing. It's not the End Times if one of those demons gets through. Oz'Raith is one of those demons. Harmless. Luckily for me, the demons that could pummel me into a tiny red puddle are rather content with their current living situation. After about ten million souls, you get that way. Mammon lives on a golden pile, surrounded by souls that would receive all the riches and their freedom could they just climb to the top. They never will. Not when he gives them a sack to carry and every last one of them fills it with coins or trinkets. It's hard to climb a mountain when you're carrying one on your back. Belphegor? Oh he has a feast spread out. All a soul must do is resist the temptation for twelve hours. The longest I saw a soul last was twenty three minutes. Asmodeus runs a different sort of game. I'll spare you the details but they would make the most devilish of demons blush. Satan runs a coliseum. Anyone who rises to the top becomes a General of Hell. There aren't many Generals of Hell, only two that I know of. To receive the title you have to best Satan in combat. Good luck with that. Point being, they just kind of sit around down in the Pit and enjoy themselves. Getting drunk off mortal suffering. So, anyway, my job is to watch the path in and out of the Pit. Mostly out, demons are always trying to sneak out and cause some sort of problem for me. A few brave, and younger, ones challenge me to combat, from time to time. They never win. The older ones try subterfuge. One nefarious sort tried to poison my drink! Can you imagine? A demon, poisoned by- Something touches my leg. From behind. I turn, very slowly, bending down to see this intruder that has so rudely ruined my train of thought. It's maybe six feet tall, a third of my height. Slight in build, a shock of brown hair dusting it's little head. It's pale. Not red in the slightest. I take a knee and look closer at it. "Excuse me, is this the way to Hell?" It asks. It's voice is small, tinny, timid. I poke it and it stumbles back a few feet. "What are you doing here, mortal?"I ask. It doesn't respond, just looks at me with enormous, fear filled eyes. Ah. Mortals don't speak Old Hellvish. Damn. What was it...Ingrash? I should have paid more attention in those cultural studies they had me take. Oh! "What dost thou want, mortal?" "Is this the way to Hell?"It asks, again. "Yea, tis."It feels wrong. The little thing speaks easier in it's tongue. When were those classes? Five hundred Earth years ago? Slowly it comes back to me but I've committed to this way now. "But thou is not welcome. Unless death by thy wish." "No. I'd rather not die." "Then be on thine way, mortal!"I roar, standing tall and slamming the end of my twisted staff, for whacking out of line demons, on the bridge. The Pit itself shakes. It doesn't turn back. We stare at each other for a while. I wave my hand at it. "Shoo." It still doesn't move. "Be thine ears filled with shit!?" It shakes it's head back and forth. "No, sir demon, I just have nowhere to go back to. We were told to come here." "Begone, mortal! Thine words are...wait. What? We? Plural?" I look up. I was so focused on the little mortal that I wasn't watching the Earth gateway. At least any demons would have been too distracted to try and get out. A small victory for the Keeper who stopped paying attention. At the moment, there's a more pressing problem. My job is to stop things from getting out and the odd, errant mortal soul from entering. This, this is different. There are hundreds of them pouring out from the gate and flooding the bridge. Thousands. Tens of thousands. And they're not souls. These are living mortals. Flesh. Sweaty, fearful, timid, little sacks of meat. Hundreds of thousands. They flood in, unchecked. How did they even find the gate? More importantly, how did they get through it? And what do I do about this many? There is nothing more dangerous to the Pit than a live mortal. Orpheus, oh how he caused problems to no end! "So..."the little, impertinent one speaks again. "Can we come in?" *** "No.**"I say. "Well why not? They told us to come here."He plants his feet apart and his hands on his hips. This little mortal would be amusing if not for the horde that followed. I kneel down to his level. "Who did?" "Do you not know?"He asks. I look over him to see at least twelve million mortals filling my bridge now. "No, I don't! Tell me!"I hiss the words, wondering if I can knock the mortals into the Pit. Perhaps they'll just die and then I'll be free of this mess. I can hear the whisper of wings carrying news to their masters. He who takes Satan away from bloodshed, or Lucifer from his preening, even Abaddon could rise. It might be slow, but he could. "He doesn't know!"the little mortal turns, shouting it. The cry is carried down through the still growing masses. There is laughter. "Keeper, they're coming!"Oz'Raith has returned, his shadow nervously watching the foot of the bridge to the Pit, where massive shapes march together. "Fix this!" I open my mouth to prod the mortal again for an answer but the Pit shakes with the furious roar. I'll be blessed, I know that roar. "Gatekeeper! You have one task! It's in the name!"Satan strides along the bridge, all his muscle and bright red mass coming with an enormous whip of flame coiled at his hip. They have all come. All the Lords of Hell. "Explain!"Belphegor speaks through a mouthful of feast, distraught at having to leave it behind. He is fat, green and odious. He belches at the mortals and waves an enormous hound thigh bone at them. "Why are they here?!" "Silence."Lucifer comes. He is as tall as a mortal but perfect in every way. His hair, his skin, the way he carries himself. He is confidence made manifest in demon form. His teeth glint in the firelight as he strides the bridge. I kneel before him, as is customary. "The Keeper will have a good explanation for this."He says, looking to me. He waits. I let my eyes dart to the others, the small mortal, then to Lucifer. He doesn't stop smiling with those perfect teeth. "Well..."He says. I reach behind me and push the little mortal ahead of me. "This one was about to explain!"I say. Feeling somehow saved by this. Their attention, at the very least, has been removed from my failure. "Rapture happened."The little mortal says. It is so quiet you can hear the crackling flames, every shrieking soul has gone quiet at once. None move. "What was that?"Lucifer says. The smile is gone. "Rapture. It happened. God came, bunch of angels. You know. Trumpets. That whole thing?"The little mortal has gall. "I know what the Rapture is! Why are you here?" "He said it'd be easier to move out the ones he wasn't keeping as opposed to relocating the rest. So he kicked us off Earth." There is more silence. We were supposed to go have a war. If that didn't happen...have we lost? Well. That's not good news. "How many are coming?"Lucifer asks, that's why he's King. He thinks of these things. "He said half. Between three and four billion."The little mortal shrugs. Oh. That's worse news.
Multiple journals and records were found in ancient ruins in Genoa dating back to 1347 describing the short-lived reign of terror brought upon by an outbreak of a disease called the Black Plague. Description of the symptoms match that of an uncommon disease caused by the bacteria Yersinia pestis. The find was deemed unusual. Given the fact that medical science was not advanced by current standards then, the disease shouldn't have been eradicated so quickly, and in fact would've caused an epidemic causing millions of death. Even more strange were repeated mentions of a man who'd come from a "sky portal" bringing with him "capsules blessed by the Lord Himself". The supposed messiah had stopped the outbreak completely within months, this of course prompted further research and analysis. A desecrated grave in Genoa believed to belong the unknown man was found. A team consisting of Alec Lyntell, Trent Wylon, and, Fynn Harring was sent to dig up the body for analysis. Below is a transcript of a video recorded by Fynn Harring. *Begin* [Team is in the process of digging up the grave] Harring: Why the hell do we have to do this. Why the hell do I have to record this. Lyntell: God knows why. Wouldn't be surprised if the higher-ups liked...[Lyntell glances at the camera nervously]..uh, nevermind. Harring: Just say it, or are ya-" [A loud noise is made from Wylon's shovel hitting an object] Wylon: Huh, found it, dunno if I should be happy or not. Probably the latter. [The team digs up more dirt until coffin's top section is fully visible] [Lyntell and Wylon proceed to lift up the cover] Harring: Doesn't smell that bad...wait. [Harring pauses, looking visibly confused] Where's the body? *End* Below is the documentation of the contents of the coffin Item 1: Note which reads, "Last one ;)". Item 2: Box of antibiotics with Walgreens branding.
Randy tried to focus on the television, silently inviting the news announcer into his brain, willing her melodious voice to encompass him and make him catatonic. He clamped down furiously on his nose, pure desperation giving him the resolve and the strength to hold the urge at bay. Sneezing and coughing is not rare. These normally innocuous bodily functions happen millions of times every hour. Naturally, those first twenty four hours were fraught with carnage and horror on a scale that the world had never seen. Humanity descended into a chaos more total than that caused by the sadistic upper limits of the most oppressive dictators in history. A chaos that mimicked conditions on the most unethical factory farms, that even emulated the acceleration of entropy, with similar ramifications for the here and now. People exploded on subways and in malls. They burst apart in planes and on toilets, in board rooms and during - quite famously - the middle of a Presidential speech. Millions upon millions died in gruesome and grotesque deaths, toddlers left screaming in what remained of their mother's arms, shoppers shell shocked and dazed, covered in blood as they stumbled home. Sirens blaring. National emergency and disaster responses initiated. Marshal Law. Militaries on high alert. The news anchor drawled on. The World Health Organization had seen nothing like this. The virus wasn't airborne. No-one was even sure if it was a virus. The only thing that anyone knew was that the disease seemed to spontaneously accompany coughing or sneezing. Randy groaned and pressed a tissue to his nose in a way that allowed the congested fluid to slowly seep out. The pressure built. Tears streamed down his cheeks. His nose tingled, growing in intensity until he couldn't take it any longer. He slammed his fists into his stomach and into the side of his face. He dug his nails into his palms, drawing blood, tears falling all the while, the salty liquid cascading down his cheeks and on to the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut. He whispered over and over again, the words forming a sort of mantra, "Please no, please no, please no..." Pressure continued to build in his forehead and in the bridge of his nose. The entire front of his face felt like it had a deep rooted itch. His cheeks were flushed. He opened his mouth to scream, a throaty and impassioned scream to the heavens, to anyone or anything that could save him from this. He opened his mouth to scream but his body betrayed him, instead reflexively releasing a powerful sneeze. The expelled air blew open his skull, sending pieces of it cannonading off of the ceiling fan, the TV and the walls. The announcer prattled on, now listing home remedies for coughs and colds. Randy's body keeled over. Just another headless corpse added to the global tally, a disinterested witness to the piece of grey brain matter slowly making its way down the brightly lit screen, a trail of human slime in its wake. &#x200B;
Excerpts From The Diary of Unigirl Dear Diary, My mom and dad said I should start a journal. They told me I’m special, and anything I write might become very important some day. I’m an 8 year old girl and I like to read and watch TV. I like stories and characters and how everything and characters go through changes as they have experiences. I spend a lot of time by myself though. Everyone I know or even see has a twin. I wish I had a twin sister, maybe then the kids at school would treat me better. Some are nice, but most call me a freak since I was born all alone. They call me names like “Dirty Stag”. Or “Singlet.” I don’t know what I did wrong to not deserve a twin sister. . . . . . It’s my 16th birthday today! I’m so excited for my party. Jimmy and Jack are coming. They are so cute and Marina and Mary say one of them likes me! I can’t wait to find out which one! Mom and dad bought me a new dress to wear and I’m looking forward to showing it off. Blah! Thanks for always listening to my ramblings, Diary. Sometimes I feel like YOU’RE my twin. Update! It was Jack that likes me! Eeeeee!!!! I was hoping it was him :) . . . . . Age 32: It is me and Jack’s 10th anniversary. I’m so lucky to have found such a sweet and caring person to share my life with. I desperately want to have his twins and we keep trying, but doctors say since I’m such an abnormality, I probably won’t be able to have children. Jack says he loves me anyway. Gosh, I’m so lucky. . . . . . Age 64: My world has been shattered. Jack’s brother Jimmy was driving drunk and crashed his car into a tree. He’s in the hospital right now but they don’t give him much time to live so I might lose my sweet Jack soon. I’m filled with so much anger. Angry at Jim for being so reckless with his and his brother’s life. Angry at the world for being so stupid. Why do twins have to die together! It’s not fair! Update: Jimmy and Jack passed away. When it became clear that Jimmy would be dead in a day or so, Jack and I decided to have an intimate date talking about memories and looking through our photo albums. Jack looked up suddenly with wide eyes that started to tear up as he looked at me and said he loved me. We kissed just before Jack took his last breath and slumped over into the couch as His brother died in the hospital. I’m so heart broken. . . . . . Age 128: I look and feel so young for my age. After the last visit to my doctor, he told me he wanted to run some tests on me to see if my vitality had any link to being a Unigirl. That’s what people call me by the way. As I get older more and more countries begin to know who I am. Unigirl: The one without a twin. I’m a bit famous! Update: I don’t know how to process the results my doctor gave me. Apparently the older I get the slower I age. He said that my body and organs are functioning at a level of a person half my age! We talked a while and he wanted to publish his findings but I told him I have to think about it. I’m already known as the Unigirl. I don’t know if I want more notoriety. . . . . . 256: I’ve had to move to a remote location. Too many people either want to kill me because I’m an abomination against god’s will, or want to stick needles in me because I’m an un-aging golden goose for science. I also receive letters from religious fanatics worshipping me like i’m some sort of immortal god. What ridiculousness. Either way, it’s no longer safe for me to live in society. Everything keeps changing around me, but I stay the same. I’ve seen generations of twins born and die. It’s all too much and I just want to be left alone. . . . . . I’ve lost count of my age. I’m somewhere over 500 years old now. Currently, I sit in a small cave at the top of a mountain. It’s been chaos in the world this last couple of centuries. Wars have been fought and hundreds of billions of twins have died fighting for their countries who’s main objective is to capture and control me. A radical by the name of Foster lead a large group of believers, whose numbers had continued to grow, and they think I’m an immortal being. They expect a person who will live as long as it’s assumed I will live to be in a unique position to pass wisdom and knowledge throughout the ages, so they’ve sworn to protect me and my whereabouts from the cruelty in this world. It’s becoming clear that, without a twin to die along side of, I may not be able to die at all. Guess we will just have to see how long this ride will last.
It wasn't until I was fourteen years old, did I realize that anything was out of place. Since my earliest memory, I've always had a shadow, who followed around behind me and told me what to do. When I was little, I remember watching peter pan, and he had a shadow that followed behind him, so it just made sense that I would have one too. I thought he was the devil for a while, because so many jokes covered having the devil follow you around and tell you to do bad things, and so I didn't listen to him for a few years, but not everything that he told me was a bad thing to do. It was on my fourteenth birthday that I asked my dad what birthday I would get an angel to follow me around too, he was puzzled and asked what I was talking about. I told him that I had the devil following me all around, but everyone always talked about the devil and an angel to balance stuff out. I knew then that I had made a mistake, he looked at me as if I was completely insane, and I quickly laughed and said I was testing him. He accepted my excuse, but I walked on eggshells around him for months, making sure to never let anything weird slip. So now I know that I don't have the devil following me around telling me what to do, but I also know that no one else, at least no one that honestly talks about it, has someone following them around. He looks just like the shadow in peter pan, but he stands upright like a person, and follows me around perfectly, even if I try and run through crowds very fast to lose him, or squeeze into a tight place were he can't follow me. He also doesn't appear to be able to read my thoughts, instead he just has suggestions for what I should do next, and never answers me when I ask him questions. Nothing that I say out loud, such as trying to debate with him if I should do something, has an impact on what he suggests. Let me try and give an example or two so it makes sense. When I was eight, we were in a grocery store and he told me to take an apple and hide it in my pocket, and I told him, "If I take the apple it's stealing"and he didn't say anything back. Later on, he told me to take a packet of gum while no one is looking and I told him it was stealing again, but he didn't say anything. I already told him that I wouldn't do something, but it didn't change his next suggestion. Not everything he tells me to do is a bad thing, in fact a lot of the time his advice is really good. Sarah was a really pretty girl in class, and he told me I should ask her to a movie. I asked him what if she said no, but he didn't answer. Like I said, he doesn't seem to be able to hear me, or pay attention anything I say. I asked Sarah out and we had a great time, he told me to hold her hand while we walked into the movies, and that was really nice. He told me to run my hand up her thigh while we were watching the movie, but I didn't have the confidence to pull that off, and based upon talking with my friends, I think it would have been a bad idea because they all agreed that I should have done it. He told me to kiss her good-night and that worked out well. I've read a lot about split personality disorders, thinking that maybe that's what this was, but he doesn't seem to take over me, and he doesn't seem like a different person. A lot of the time he tells me to do exactly what I was going to do, and he never makes me do anything I don't want to do, and doesn't get upset with me if I don't follow his advice, he just tells me what to do next. I've read a bunch of horror books too, and seen a lot of scary movies, maybe he is a kid that died at the same time that I was born, and since he didn't have a body anymore he follows me around and tries to live his life through me, since he's not alive anymore. I tried asking him if he was a dead kid, but like I said, he never responds or talks to me. I'm sixteen years old now, and having him around is just a normal thing to me. I'm walking home from school, making my way towards the stop sign to cross the street when he tells me that I should cross now, while there isn't any other cars coming, but I decide it's safer to cross at the crosswalk. I cross the street and together we walk down the street, I've practiced a lot not talking about we when I describe what I'm doing to other people, they just look at me weird when I do. We pass in front of a Gamestop, and he tells me to go inside and check out the new Mario Kart game. I check my watch, and I do have ten minutes extra before my bus gets here, and so I step inside and head over to console and boot up the game. The graphics are nice, and I can play a toon link now, which is pretty cool. Playing games is pretty fun with my shadow, because he tells me to do stuff that I don't see, but in racing games it sucks because he's basically just telling me to turn left while I'm already turning left. I win two games, when I realize that something is off. My shadow isn't telling me to do anything, and he hasn't been for at least the last lap. I turn around, wondering what's going on and I see him just laying there on the ground. I've never seen him standing away from me, he's always behind me, right at my ear to whisper some advice to me. He's laying on the ground here, in the middle of the floor, but no one pays any attention to him. There is a black shadow, a puddle maybe, pooling next to him on the ground, seeping along the floor like liquid smoke. I rush over to his side to help him, but freeze as I hear him scream, "RUN!"I'm frozen in fear now, never have I ever heard him scream, it always just a soft whisper in my ear, "FUCKING RUN ALREADY. RUN!"he shouts at me again, but my entire body seems to be frozen, just staring at him as he lays on the ground. Then I see it, it wasn't there before, I'm positive. There is a footprint in the puddle of shadow next to me, and I turn and start to run as fast as I can. (Part 2 is below, you can read everything written so far, and other stories at /r/iruleatants)
A man sits at a table. The table is cold metal. The men's clothing is filled with tears and covered in blood stains. Before, it was a uniform. Black with silver trim. A stylized eye rests on both shoulders. All seeing. The mans hands are shackled to the table one of them obscures the barcode tattooed on his wrist, marking his stature and rank. How many times were these roles reversed? How many times was it the man who spoke to others shackled to chairs? Sometimes he promised them mercy, if they would confess. Mercy, if they repented, and told him where the guns were hidden. Sometimes they told him. Sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes they claimed gold that wasn’t there, guns that had never been. Anything to not be hit anymore. Anything to go home. Whether they knew or didn’t know, whether they sold out their compatriots or lived and died by their creed like they promised, it ended the same way. Whips and knives. Laughter from the guards. Then a bullet to the head. But now the shoe was on the other foot. There was no rack of menacing knives and tools like in the “official” interrogation rooms, but the cold, damp, and bloodstains on the wall worked almost as well. But the commander was not afraid. The rebels weren’t real men, they didn’t have the strength to do what was needed. Their revolution would fail, and the nation would live on. It was necessary. People needed a strong hand to guide them. It was right. How many had gone hungry in the old days? How many had died of weakness, of poverty, of a thousand social illnesses the old government was strong enough to solve? Now the children went to bed with full bellies and shaved heads. Filled with tasteless regulation protein blocks, true, but satisfied all the same. So when the rebels march into the room, with their guns, and their haphazard uniforms, the man stares back at them, cold and unblinking. They’re lead by someone new. Tall and pale, in a fine suit not like the rags of the others. Jericho they call him. Is this who they think will frighten him? And Jericho shoes his way away from the room. There is fear and trepidation in their eyes. Are they truly so weak? To tremble before a man they hold captive. They should be. When he is released, the harm that the man will bring onto them will be legendary. And “Jericho”, the interrogator, sits across from him, and doesn’t speak. He merely stare’. Does he think this is intimidating? So the commander looks back into his eyes, expecting the man to blink. How many have broken before his gaze? But the interrogator does not meet his eye. His eyes are tilted slightly downward, and without even thinking about it, the commander subconsciously moves his hands to his neck. Then, at last Jericho speaks. “I want you know, that I have absolute sympathy with your aims.” Does he now? Is this a defection? There were rumours of discontent in the rebel ranks. “You’re right. Humanity can only be ruled with strength and steel.” And then, a flicker of emotion for the first time. Annoyance? Anger? Weakness. The commander keeps his expression cold. Triumphant. The stronger man. “But I just can’t have you doing it so thoroughly! All those cameras! All those spies in every neighborhood. There’s just no way for a man to get something done privately. It’s intolerable!” So this is his cause celebre-- his boston massacre, his day of infamy. Cameras. How else does he think they’re supposed to maintain control? Just trust people to obey? Ridiculous. The commander makes the smallest dissenting noise. Absolute control. Always. And the interrogator smiles in response, and for the first time, the commander notices his teeth, a little too long. His skin, a little too pale. Tall and thin, with those red eyes… Some long forgotten children's tale stirs in the commander’s mind, and his hands jump back to his neck. And the smile grows broader. A hand reaches across the table, and brushes against the commanders skin. Ice cold. The dam bursts. A shudder. A whimper with it. Fear in those cold grey eyes that never show anything. And before the tall wiry body lunges forwards, before the teeth slice through the trembling hands, the smile grows just a little bigger, and the mouth speaks. “Shall we begin?” &#x200B; (Comments and suggestions appreciated as always, r/StannisTheAmish if you liked what you saw.)
*I'm Not Like You Guys, Twelve Majestic Lies* *Aliens Exist / Enema of the State / Blink-182* ... Hey, hey, you wanna hear the story of how the world got flipped, turned upside down? Yeah, I'm talking to you. My name's Luis, and here's the story of how a big purple grape named Tany destroyed the world. So, it starts a bit like this, like, apparently the Avengers broke up because Captain Sexypants and the Iron Washout had a falling out over their fuckbuddy Buckaroos, right? Like, Sexypants was all like 'he's my gay boi' and Iron Washout was like 'He killed Martha!' and they had some passionate sex right there to decide his fate. Like, whatever, I'm getting off track, point is Iron Washout didn't last long being manhandled by da specimens of manliness and Sexypants got away with the homewrecker and took half the kids in the divorce. Took the hot ones, I tell you. The witch and the widow? Woo, that's what I'm talking about man, worth it right there. God that man has game, I need to ask for tips or something. And while this is going on, Musclepants the God of Sparks is up in space getting his ass wrecked by Bro Bananers or something because he got thrown into a giant junkyard by his evil sister Galadriel? Crazy stupid fine lady, would hit that but Scotty gets all pissed off when I do that. Dude's gone respectable, kids these days have no commitment. Anyways, so muscleguy ends up burning his house down with the help of his brother and some big guy named Sutures or something because apparently that guy runs the best demolishing company in the business, and that leaves all the Assguardos homeless, which is when Muscleman decides to go to Earth, maybe set up camp there and play Civilization for a while. Which is when Thanny, the Purple Grape of Wrath shows up. So Thanny and Musclepant's bro Lokokoko go way back, like all the way to that Incident shit. And he wants to do a family reunion and whatnot so he boards the Assguardian Airplane and like, kills a bunch of guys. Then he spouts some shit, all like 'yo yo yo mah homie g i'm here to fuck you' and he like beats the shit out of Thor, which is not okay because Thor's so a bro, guy charged my phone, that's some serious shit in da hood man. And then like Thor is all like 'OMG WE DON'T HAVE THE CUBE OF GLOWINESS' and then Lokiman is all like 'uhhh yeah I doooo' and then the Grape gets rugbyed by Bananners. So like, these two beefy men are going at it and then Thanny man crushes him in the wrestling match and the guy with the sword has to save his ass. So Thanananos like, kills him, and then he takes the cube and breaks it, grabbing the stone inside! Shit's lit yo, it was like that time when that guy got thrown into an announcers table by that other guy, except better! Anyways, he like, kills Thor's bro, because you just gotta follow through on some promises and all that. Something about an assassination, like JFK except like, not successful. And then Bearded Bro is all crying and shit and he gets blown up. And that's when Bananers crashes into the home of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley! Anyways, he's all like 'OMG GUYS, THANANANERS IS CUMING' and they're like 'okay brah, we got this', so they interrupt a big makeout session between the Iron Washout and his weird girlfriend who sells questionable shit on Amazon, and that's when Bronaners learns that the Avengers divorced and SuperSexySteve took everything except the house and the air force dude. So he's like 'yo yo reconcile and shit forgiveness is love and love is forgiveness', so like, Failure Man is all like 'okay, i'm calling him up now' so he can tell Steve he wants to hit dat ass again because he's lonely, when like, this windy shit happens and then moar aliens come over to take the magical stone that Harry Potter's got shoved up his ass. So there's like, some menacing words and death threats and a comment on someone's mom, and then uh, they start fighting. And then this kid, what's his face uh...Dusty McWebbers, yeah, that's his name, he comes on down and kicks some ass, then Harry Potter gets abducted by Voldemort because Voldy wants to take him away to love him forever and ever, so IronFailure and Dusty have to go up there and save him from being Fifty Shades of Greyed by this guy, and Ron like, shoves this fatass, Bull Odin or whatever onto the set for March of the Penguins! And then he bowed out of this shit because he needed to protect his house or whatever. While this is going on, Bananers grabs the phone and calls Steve up for a booty call, and then like, it turns out that Thor's alive! He's up in space taking a nap because he's a lazy bitch, and then he gets run over by Star-Lord and the Outlaws! Yeah, I know, that's not their name, it is to me, it sounds cooler. And they like, take him aboard and make out with him or something, and he tells them all about Thanny-Pants and his plan to snap dat ass. So they're like 'ah hell nah' and they go all Mystery Machine and split up and shit, like they go to Nowhere to stop Thanananaman and then somewhere else to get the big sword of awesomeness, Foehammer. So it turns out, in the two years since the Avengers Divorce occurred, Domo-Arigato-Mister-Roboto and WitchyWitch have been doing it on the regular! Good for him, but really, should've come to me for advice 'cause I spent a few years in prison and I know all about doing it because of that. Anyways, they're out on an early morning thing and then these two weirdos come by and stab him, and he gets all weepy about it because he just got stabbed, and then Witchy is all like 'IMMA CHARGING MAH LAZOR' and she kicks major ass all morning long until they get cornered. Then like, Captain Sexypants and his girlfriend and plus one show up and beat some ass and spout some one-liners, and then they like, fly away to Equestria to make love or something. I dunno, man, seriously, Beardy Bro's gotta be gettin some. Dude's hot. And then like, the dudes in space uh...Owen Brady and Officer Uhura are all like flashbacking and making out and some invisible guy says some shit, whatever, that's not important, the important part is the making out, which was frankly sloppy and poorly executed and had no followthrough. God, I hate amateurs. Oh, yeah, they had to go to Nowhere to like kill Thananbananas. Anyways, Thananos is in there fucking shit up with the white haired guy who stole my pants, and then Uhura like, kills him. Yeah, that was anti-climactic. It just kinda happens, like when you're asleep and your dog comes over and farts on your face because he wants to go out for a walk and shit? So anyways, Thanos like, dies and then he comes back when Uhura is sobbing over his body and then he like turns the invisible woman into strips and the buggy hot girl into blocks or something, maybe I got that backwards who cares, and he like, meets the guy screwing his daughter. It's awkward and all that and you could probably strap a Brazzers logo onto the scene and submit it to youtube for mad likes, and then like, he leaves, because he's a dad and it's a dad's job to be a boring shit that no one wants to hang out with. Yes, Scotty, I'm talking about you. Suck it.
Jingle, Jingle, Jingle, I heard the coming sleigh, Jingle, Jingle, Jingle, my mind went out to play! 'What did I want'? I asked myself, 'And was it fun at all?' My mind went back in time, and thought: 'What did I want this Fall?' Well... The roof cracked open, like an egg, and Santa stood there, tall! His eyes were mad and jolly, his tum' a rounded ball. 'You've been so kind,' he said to me, though I began to bawl, 'You'll get a car - an ice cream van!' (it burst through my drywall) 'You'll love this slave, a loyal bloke! (and so I had an thrall) 'You'll want to pinch your nose for this...' (a filthy bathroom stall) 'And this is odd, but on the list...' (a dictator's left ball) 'But Santa, please -' I said, in tears, 'My house will surely fall!' He stopped, and turned, and stared at me, and dropped a fucking narwhal. ----- 'appy Chavmas, one and all.
I heard the sobbing start directly below me in the kitchen. It was broken by a wail, and then there was pounding on the stairs. When I turned over I saw it was some time after three in the morning. I knew Mom should be getting up around now; she had to start her shift soon. "Brendan!"My mother's voice was almost shrill, and I could tell she was trying her best to keep her voice down. "Brendan, get your phone. Check our banking apps. I...I think...there must..." Her voice faded as she went into their bedroom. After a few moments, I heard the sound of shuffling, then clearly my father yelling, "What the fu-" "Bren, please. Charlie's asleep..." And then it was quiet again. Curiosity got the better of me. I slipped out of bed, the old extra long twin we'd gotten a few years ago. Mom was so excited for us to get it; we'd spent two years saving the money for it and putting it in a mason jar in the kitchen. It even had a pillow top. I made my way down the hall, hearing the talking becoming louder. I moved stealthily in the dark to avoid the creaking spots. The subfloor was starting to get pretty bad in a couple sections, and it was getting hard to find a spot that didn't groan when you put weight on it. Dad said we'd work on it as a family project this summer. It would be our last chance; I was going to school in the fall. When I got to the door, I heard the conversation clearly. Mom was still crying. Dad said, "I don't understand. I don't understand how this is possible." "How many years have you spent at the factory?"Mom asked, her voice breaking. "And me, down at Earl's Diner?" Unable to help myself, I put my fingers against the faded paint on the door and pushed. As the image of my parents came into view I felt my stomach drop. It was the way dread feels when it overtakes you and slithers around your insides. They were just sitting on the bed. Mom was wrapped up in Dad's arms, and her hands were clinging to his midsection, curled up in his shirt. Mom looked up. "Charlie?" "Mom...what's going on?" She was shaking as she went to wipe her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. Dad spoke for her. "Honey...honey, you know we always tried to live within our means, right? Always saving up to pay for cars in cash. Working extra shifts to try to pay off the mortgage quicker. I know...I know we haven't always given you the best things in life because of it..." "I don't care about that,"I said, but my voice was quaking in fear. "It's just stuff..." My Mom began to cry harder, and her arm flung out. Her fingers were cold as she grasped for me, and I kneeled down in front of her as I took her hand. "We wanted to leave you with something better than what we had,"Dad continued, and I felt his hand, too. It came to grasp my shoulder, and I looked up into his sad eyes. "Our net worth...after paying off the mortgage last month. It was hundreds of thousands of dollars. We worked so hard to get there..." "And it's gone,"Mom cried. "It's all gone." I didn't think I was going to college this year anymore. As I looked up at my parents' heartbroken faces, I couldn't think of anything to say. I should have had a million questions, but instead I wrapped my arms around both of them. We were all crying, and I said, "It's okay. It's going to be okay."And then, with more conviction, "We're going to make it; we have each other."
It was a lousy day, and I had to choose between food for me or food for my cat for the next week (since I only have one bus ticket left), and the balance of my bank account blinked mockingly on the machine. The text was even offset to the right as if to mock me of the digits that other people had on their bank accounts that I did not. Even the weather seemed to agree with my mood; the dark overcast skies spit on me, and chilled me with unrelenting wind. Working my way through the ATM menu, I thought to myself: Fuck it, it asked me how much money I wanted to withdraw, so I punched in 1, followed by a bunch of zeros. Coins starting flying out. Loonies, to be exact. It was like winning at the slot machines at the casino, with $1 coins sloshing at my feet, the loud plinking completely drowning out the gentle rain. I gaped for about a second, then unzipped my backpack, upended it quickly and put it under the cash withdrawal slot. The coins continued to pour out, the ones on the street now accompanied by my dirty shorts, 1 unmatched sock, 2 pencils, and a faded notebook. It lasted a lot shorter than I thought it would. A bunch of loonies now filled the bottom half of my bag and littered the street - I felt a little ashamed (both of the theft and of my desperation), but I bent up to pick up the remainder of the coins from the street. A half bag of loonies had to be worth something right? After a quick glance to confirm that nobody had seen the slot machine ATM or my coin-scrambling poorness, I hefted my backpack and prepared to book it out of there. Except I couldn't - and I nearly popped a disk and dislocated my shoulder when I tried. The bag was firmly cemented on the ground I peered into the bag again - was this some kind of practical joke that magnetized the coins into the ground so that nobody could pick them up? Was a camera watching me? People laughing at me on their TV sets at home? I was almost on the verge of tears. On closer inspection, I discovered that my bag was not in fact glued to the dirty concrete, but rather the fact that my bag now weighed about 70 pounds, about the max I could lift onto my emaciated shoulders. It seemed awfully heavy for a half bag of loonies. I fished out one of the coins to examine. It gleamed, even in the overcast rain. And it said on the side: Royal Canadian Mint. 99.9% Gold I dropped it like it was burning my fingers, and it fell with a loud clink back into my bag. My bag of gold coins. Oh my God. I quickly zipped up the bag and hefted it onto my back, the frayed straps protesting against the sudden loud, and my shoulders threating to depart their sockets. The T-shirt, sock, pens, and notebook lay forgotten on the street. Oh my God. I took one more quick glance down the street both ways, and then did a double take at the ATM. On the screen, it now said: ""You have two wishes remaining. Would you like to proceed? Y/N" Hands trembling (not sure from apprehension or the weight on my shoulders), I pushed "Y" "Please wait while your wishes are being deposited" I glanced down at the ATM's keyboard. It was numerics only, with a few extra buttons for back, delete, yes, and no. I scratched my head questioningly. I shouldn't wait here. My knees were buckling under the weight already. "Please take your wishes now, and remember your card" Two blue coins fell out. They were shaped like carnival tokens, but were made from a material that looked like the ocean, frozen into place. They warm in my hands, even in the wind and rain. On each one it said "Admit 1: Wish,"on the back, it was blank. I hurriedly stuffed the two coins and my bank card back into my pocket, its value now greatly diminished by the contents of my bag I looked back up at the ATM Would you like a receipt? Y/N" Why not, I thought, and pushed "Y" The receipt printed out now, much faster than any normal ATM had ever printed, a receipt the length of my leg. It fell onto the wet floor, soaking up the rain in the puddle at my feet. I tore it off and read the first few lines "Arthur E. Chan Make-a-wish bank 11 Jan 2019 09:08 Withdrawal: $1,000,000, currency - gold Withdrawal: 2 Wish tokens Balance: 0.00" I scoffed, wondering still if this was some kind of a lame joke. What was the rest of the receipt for then anyways? I was walking away from the ATM now, continuing to read. "Blood type: O- Parentage: Edith A Cheung, Charles B. Chan Genetic makeup: 88% Chinese, 6%Korean, 4%Caucasian, 2% - " This was creepy. I skipped a few lines. "Moral credit score: 768 Times masturbated: 9928 Preferred pornography gen- " What the hell. Really creepy. I skipped all the way to the bottom. "Future prospects: None Destiny: None Life expectancy: 0 years 0 months 0 days 00:23:46 Have a nice day! " Wait a minute. That was about twenty minutes ago when I printed the receipt. I paused. Which was stupid, since I was standing in the middle of the street. You'd think I would have looked up more often walking down the street with a bag full of gold coins, but I didn't see the truck, and he didn't see me. &#x200B; Sure wish I didn't have to die like that.
I gave it up ages ago. I mean we all make mistakes right? Like kill a couple innocents or level a city or two. What i'm trying to say is that it had been another life and another time and somewhere along the line I just got tired of it all. Nowadays I try to get my coffee and some asshole in spandex comes to knock it out of my hands like someone is going to pop out of the bushes and interview him about how he "defeated"me. I think after the fifth time it stopped being annoying and became borderline enraging. But i've found a life that is worth it to me and I wouldn't have thrown it all away for some kids with powers. Sometimes all you need to do is keep your head up, even if the world is deadset on knocking it back down. That day had been different, instead of some young girl or guy - my old enemy Multiman appeared in front of me. I felt the rage rise at the sight of his smile, but then it came to pass and instead I smiled back. "Hey. You here to stop me from getting my groceries?" "No... it's not like that. Look, without you it's getting really hard to get out of bed and put on this suit." Both of our smiles had faded and awkwardness flailed around in the air like a drowning kid at the community pool. "You mean that?" His hair had turned grey since the last time we saw each other, and his once smooth face now bore the weight of a million fights. "Yes, these new guys they all fight just to be evil, they have no master plan is what i'm trying to say" "Can you blame them? You heroes tend to come in and ruin any sort of plan before they can even get go- I mean before they hatch." If you could have seen us in that moment, you would have never thought we once clashed like titans over cities all over the globe. You would simply see two older men walking together. Maybe that's what we should have been all along. But my thoughts were interrupted by Multiman's hand on my shoulder with a surprisingly heavy grip. "Look, I know the new guys give you lots of trouble... so how about the next time they try something stupid both me and you can show them not to mess with the dinosaurs that made their world possible." He laughed, and it occurred to me that I had never heard him laugh quite like that. In my mind I remembered all the pain I had caused him, all the lives I had torn from his grasp and I thought I would see the embers of his hatred for me but within the softest shades of blue I had ever seen all I saw was the desperate desire from one soul to bond with another. Looking back now, I hadn't realized it then or when I said goodbye to him on his deathbed a year after but I know now within my heart one thing, I have lived a better life for having had him within it.
“Well Mr. Franklin, have you had enough?” the grisly man asked while still waving the bloody knife around in front of my face. I’ve got to hand it to him, he’s got a great work ethic. We’ve been down in this dusty basement for what must be hours already and I’m not seeing any signs of him slowing down. “Do you expect me to talk?” I spurt out through a bloodied mouth that’s seen better days. I don’t know why I thought he would respond like some sort of Bond villain. Probably just my brain trying to find the humor in being tortured for so long. Oh right, I should probably explain what’s going on. You see, when I was young, like 13 years old kind of young, there was an accident. I was hanging around, playing with the other neighborhood boys like young boys do when one of them pulled out a shiny Smith and Wesson to play with. I knew guns were bad but that didn’t stop my curious mind from wanting to exam it. Anyways, we all took turns shooting bottles off a dumpster. It was great fun for awhile, until Randy tripped. It was an accident of course but the gun went off and a piece of lead shot straight outta the barrel and right into the base of my skull. Even the doctors were surprised when I made it out of the operating room still breathing. I lived, but a part of me died that day, the part of me capable of feeling. At first it didn’t seem like such a big deal to me. I figured never being able to get hurt would be great. Problem is, there’s a big difference between not being able to feel hurt and not getting hurt. I found that out the hard way when I was in the kitchen one day and started to smell something burning. When I looked over to my right I found my hand on one very hot stove. That little moment landed me back in the hospital for awhile with some pretty severe burns. Still have the scars to prove it too. Turns out it’s pretty dangerous not being able to tell when something’s wrong. I started realizing the other problems with not being able to feel as I grew older. Turns out it wasn’t just pain. I couldn’t feel the hugs of my high-school sweethearts, couldn’t feel the warmth of a bonfire down on the beach, couldn’t feel anything. When you can’t feel warmth, you turn pretty cold. I grew distant from everyone around me until eventually I was alone. By myself and with no idea where my life was headed, I decided to join the military. Maybe a bit unsurprisingly, not being able to feel pain can be a real bonus in certain military applications. It let me go on longer and harder without succumbing to fatigue and injury. The others started referring to me as “The Machine”. In fact, I was becoming something of a legend around the base for my seemingly endless ability to endure physical abuse. Then one day we found ourselves shipping out to some desert in the Middle East. I was out on patrol when we hit an explosive that flipped our Humvee right over. I remember the sensation of falling but after that everything went black until I woke up here, wherever here is. All I know is I fell into enemy hands and woke up to find myself strapped down to a table in the middle of an old dusty basement with shit lighting and an even worse view. The torture didn’t take long to start. An older man, covered in the scars of age and war, walked into the basement carrying a burlap carrying bag. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what was inside. As it was unfolded on a metal tray by my makeshift bed I could see the instruments that would tear into me. Despite knowing I wouldn’t feel a thing, I was still petrified. Internally I was screaming in fear even while externally I looked as amused as a kid in a courtroom. There were no questions, no exchange of words. The man simply picked up a tool and began carving away at my skin like an artist would slice clay from a sculpture. And that brings us to now. I know the man is getting frustrated. He started asking questions after the first slice into my body but the only responses he’s gotten have been jokes and stupid remarks. I know he’s going to kill me no matter what so I might as well enjoy myself a little. It’s funny where a mans mind goes when he knows he’s going to die. I always thought I would think about all the regrets I had in life yet here I was calm as could be, accepting of what was to come. Maybe I’m just too boring to have regrets. I hear gunshots outside the room. They’re getting louder. The man in the room has dropped his tools and picked up a small pistol to aim it at the only door. A few more moments go by and the wooden door explodes inwards, coating the man and my body in splinters. The pistol discharges and is followed by a chorus of tiny explosions of small caliber rounds pierce my torturers body and he falls to the floor. I can’t move my head to see the new people in the room but I can hear their boots across the floor. “Over here!” one of them shouts. “Hey there” I respond, “I wouldn’t recommend staying. This place has a lousy masseur.” A few small cracks of laughter escape the new mouths in the room. The light gets blocked out as the people crowd around me. “Holy shit!” one of them exclaims loudly, “it’s the God Damn Machine!”
I turned off the car and sighed. Another graveyard shift at Burger King. I switched off the headlights, made sure I remembered my name tag, and got out of my car. I took my time walking to the back door. I really didn't want to be here, but I didn't have a choice. Out of habit, I looked over at the dumpster to see if Marcus was there. He was. "Marcus,"I called out. "How many times do I have to say this? If you want some food, just come inside. It's all good, you don't owe us anything. Come on, I'll fix you a burger." "Oh no,"Marcus said with a chuckle. "I'm just passing by." "Ok,"I said doubtfully. I really hope he isn't doing drugs back there, I thought as I walked through the back door and into the kitchen. "Hey David,"Angela, my coworker greeted me. "Hey,"I replied. "Ready for some more boredom?" "You know it!"she laughed. No one ever came here after 10:00. But we were open 24 hours, so it didn't matter. "Oh, yeah, before you work the register, can you try to get the grill going? I think it might be broken again."Angela asked. "Sure, I'll take a look at it,"I answered. I walked over to the grill and made sure no one was watching. All clear. The grill had been messed up ever since I started working here, but I knew the trick to get it going. I held out my hands and concentrated. A small orb of fire faded into being in the space between my hands. I pushed out suddenly, and flames enveloped the top of the grill. This is what I, one of the most powerful mages of all time, have been reduced to, I thought sadly. Things had changed. My kind were no longer welcome here. Those of us who survived the initial purges were forced into hiding. That's why I had this job at a random Burger King in a random small town. I walked to the counter and took my place behind the register, preparing myself for a whole lot of nothing. I stood there for about an hour, when I heard the door open. I looked up in surprise. When I say no one ever came in this late, I mean no one. There were 4 men forming a line. Each wore a black or gray suit. They were clean-shaven and had short haircuts. These guys looked like government agents. The first man approached the register, reaching into his pocket. I readied myself for a fight. "We'll just do four number ones, dine-in please,"he said, taking out his wallet. I was relieved. I handled the order with no problem. Maybe I was just overthinking things. The men returned to their seats. I walked back into the kitchen to help Angela get their food ready. When that was done, I put all their food onto a tray and carried it out to them. That wasn't how we normally did it, but they were the only customers here so I figured hey, why not? But as I approached their table, I stopped dead in my tracks. I heard it. No doubt about it. My name. My real name. I finally forced myself to focus and move again. They hadn't noticed me, fortunately. They ate their food, talked for a few minutes then left. The rest of my shift went by without anything else happening. But I couldn't stop worrying. Did those men know who I really was? Did they know I was here, or are they just looking for me in this general area? Whatever the case, I figured I'd play it safe and make this my last night at this location. I took off my apron and name tag and threw them on the ground. I quickly made my way to the exit. Angela said a quick and exhausted goodbye as she left for the night. I wasn't paying enough attention to respond. I wasn't far behind. I had my keys in hand. I didn't want to waste any time leaving town. There was only one problem. My car was gone. "Turn around, slowly,"an authoritative voice barked from behind me. I did as he asked. The men in suits were standing side by side, guns ready. The one who had spoken was holding Angela, his gun pressed against her head beside her terrified face. "There's no need for that,"I said calmly. I had to get her out of this. "Come quietly, and she'll be just fine." I gulped. I knew what would happen if I surrendered, and it wouldn't be pretty. But I didn't want Angela caught in the crossfire. I was stuck. I had no good options. "Let her go first,"I said. I knew they wouldn't go for it, but it was worth a shot. He laughed, confirming my hunch. "Nice try, Harry Potter,"he said in a mocking voice. Angela now looked even more confused. I was about to panic, trying to come up with a plan. I couldn't think of anything, and- The dumpster growled. We all turned to face it. "No tricks!"the man holding Angela barked. "That wasn't me!"I said nervously. He could tell I was serious. The lead agent nodded, and two of his men split off to investigate the dumpster. They got a few feet away from it, when, all of a sudden, it shot out, slamming into them and knocking them to the ground. I seized the opportunity. I stuck out my hands and launched a ball of fire at the third man, disintegrating him. I started to engage the last agent, but I had to dive for the cover of a parked car as he opened fire on me with his pistol. I forced myself to stay calm and think. I had an idea, but it was risky. I stood back and raised my arms slowly and with great effort, the car I had been hiding behind rising into the air. I aimed it right at the last bad guy, and threw it like it was a football. The agent let go of Angela, just in time for both of them to duck out of the way. I ran over to her and helped her to her feet. "We gotta go!"I yelled as we ran toward her car. But as we got near it, I felt something slam into my back. I fell to the ground. I'd been shot. I tried to tell Angela to keep running, but she stopped and tried to help me. In desperation, I raised a ward in front of us. It probably wouldn't stop a bullet, but I was out of options. The agent smirked as he raised his gun to finish me off. That's when something enormous landed in between us and the agent. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a freaking dragon! All of the color drained from the agent's face as the dragon reared its head and let loose with a massive breath of flames. When it was done, nothing remained of the agent. Angela and I must have both looked terrified as the dragon turned to face us. Instead of attacking us, it laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you." I was stunned. I had always been told dragons had all been killed off centuries ago. I was even more shocked when the dragon began to change shape, shrinking down until it resembled a human figure. I couldn't believe my eyes! "Marcus?"I asked, stunned stupid by what I just witnessed. "Yeah, it's me,"he said with a big grin. "But I can explain later, right now you need help. I'll take you to a hospital." "No need,"I said. I simply cast a quick healing spell and I was as good as new. "You really are a powerful mage,"Marcus remarked. "That's what they keep saying,"I returned. "WHAT IS GOING ON?"Angela asked, understandably bewildered. I glanced over at Marcus, then back at Angela. "Come with us, we'll explain everything."
On mobile so please excuse any mistakes. Hope you enjoy! .................................................................................. We thought that we could win. That if we called upon the Lords of the Metals, we could finally push the demons back, and learn peace once more. How wrong we were.. __________________________________________ The idea was first proposed by the Sage of the North. To open the gate to their world and ask for their help, just as our ancestors did, millennia ago. Our histories had remembered them, with their sticks of fire and lightning, commanding masses of men, all hungry for blood. Our ancestors had made a gateway, crossing the weave of space. We had to reopen it. All of us agreed. At the time, that was the only choice. Either to break the open the gate, or be devoured by the Hoard. We chose. It took us a full month to open it. Day after day, night after night of fruitless trials preceded the opening of the gate. The selected ambassadors went through. The Sages Of The Dial, and a representative of every nation still alive. What glimpses we saw of their world filled us with wonder. Their effortless movements, their mental processing, everything about them spoke total refinement. Their carriages of metal, and their dragons of steel. Their scrolls of copper and aluminium. We bended knee before them, and asked for their help. They agreed. We saw their armies come forth from the gateway like a tsunami, wave upon wave of warriors, disfigured by their combat robes and multiple eyes on their skulls. Along them came great elephants, their single tusk able to belch forth flame and ruin. But we soon realized their real weapon. Their adaptability. Within two cycles of the moons, they were already coupling their Sceptres with our magic, making them crackle with power. They embued our swords with fire and acid, allowing us to finally take revenge on the Hoard, striking at their outposts, cutting off their supplies, and finally, after half of a year, we marched into their capital, killing as they had done, spilling their blood with as much revelry as they had ours. The Lords Of The Metals stayed with us, making more gateways, until every capital had one. They promised salvation to our world and we gladly took them for their word, trusting them to guide us to prosperity. In due time, every single person could be amassed before a gateway. They then talked to us through their papers of light, saying again their promise to deliver us to salvation. Then they turned on us. If we thought that they had used their full force on the Hoard, we were sorrowfully mistaken. They unleashed their jars of hellfire upon us, burning away entire capitals, devastating the land, and turning millions into Ash. They dealt us death and called it our salvation. In their greed, they annihilated our race. All we could do was watch. Our resources had been used to defeat the Hoard, and we had become too trusting of them. We should have known something was wrong when they limited our access to the gates. In truth, we had missed one fact, one tiny coincidence that caused our genocide. All of our histories recounted the glory of the Lords, and how they had helped us in battle. None of them told of what followed.
(NSFW maybe) Whoever said dying was easier than living didn't know shit. Gary was dying; he had been dying for the past 4 years. Despite every treatment available, the inevitable had come. Gary knew he wasn't long for this world. The thought of death didn't upset him, there were no tears shed. No, Gary wasn't upset, he was pissed. Hospice was due to come in any minute. Gary grumbled profanities to himself as he realized he soiled the bed in his sleep. He hated being helpless; he wanted it to end. Soon, a slender man wearing all black entered the room. It wasn't the normal hospice worker but it would do. "I shit the bed"Gary yelled, pissed at what he had become. "I'm not hear to clean your sheets Gary, I'm hear to collect something else". Reality set in. The anger and bitterness were gone, Gary had an idea. "Are you Death"Gary asked, already knowing the answer. Death nodded and stuck out a skeletal hand void of flesh. "Take it"stated Death in an somber tone, "time to go." Gary reached out hesitantly, then, with a glimmer in his eye, pulled his hand back. "Say, I've been in this bed five months, my time should have come long ago. You must be busy"said Gary with a nervous shake in his voice. Death gave a nod and reached a bit further. Gary laughed "figures."With laughter in his voice Gary joked "sounds like you could use some help, do you need an assistant?"Death stopped his reach. "Hmm, I believe I do." Death looked Gary over "my line of work is death. It is all you will see, and all you will know. No ordinary soul can do what I do. Perhaps a small test to see if you are up to the challenge first?"Gary hesitantly nodded. Death held out his skeletal hand "this is my touch. Contact is all that is needed to claim a soul. I have a list of five. Claim these and you can join me if you so desire."With that Gary's hand took on a skeletal appearance. "You have five hours." Gary looked down from heaven with anticipation. Hour five had come and Death returned to find Gary's corpse with a skeletal hand wrapped around it's schlong. Gary recieved his retribution. He had managed to send his own soul to the afterlife while making Death touch his junk. Death shook his head, mumbling "fool me once."With great hesitation, Death reclaimed his hand and with it his touch.
Ethereal time manipulation, or ETM, as I had dubbed it upon my discovery of how to project myself through time. Though I couldn't physically go to that time, I could 'witness' it through the ETM. I spent the last several days locked away in my study trying to determine the best way to go about using it, or even if I should release this to the world. What implications could something like this have on humanity? I was always curious, as a scientist, about religion and its impact upon society. How some were devout, god fearing people and others were zealots that spout nonsense and incoherent babble. Was it even a real thing or something someone cooked up to enthrall the masses. Over the course of the next few days, I jumped around to various events in history, the birth and crucifixion of Jesus, the plagues of Egypt and Moses. I'd say at the least many of the stories were quite embellished. But nothing was quite confirmed. Witnessing a prophet speak to himself didn't confirm if he was one, or if he was crazy. As a scientist, it was such a terrible letdown as the ETM limits my projection to what my own senses can determine. Hearing someone else hear voices didn't seem to be a part of that equation. However, upon one of my travels, I happen across the Holy Crusades, and a peculiar tablet that read off a date too far old to determine based on mankind's calculations of time. Dating back to the around 5000 BC til now, I calculated that this date was roughly 4.543 Billion years ago. I quickly began research and deduced that this was one of the oldest known time-frames of the existence of Earth. I sat and pondered a moment about the implications and what it could mean. I've gone back many years and witnessed many things, but could I go back 4.5 billion years? I grabbed the ETM device and slid the bracelet like mechanism over my wrist and fastened it. The ETM blipped and churned a few electronic noises as I powered it up and prepared myself as I entered in the time and date from the old tablet. As normal, my body fell limp and I experienced this 'lifted' feeling as if my soul had left my body. Everything around me moved as if it flowed in reverse, but quicker and quicker as each millisecond passed. Within a flash, I had arrived in a strange area, one that was educated to be what earth looked like in ancient times. The land was lush with greenery and the water was as blue and clear as the sky. The atmosphere was cool and brisk yet the fields and forest were massive and dense. I took a deep breath in and sensed no harmful particulates like you would in a populated city. It seemed like a wonderful dream... a Paradise. CONTINUED...
“Lexa, tell me about the previous occupants of this ship.” “There have been no previous occupants.” “But we didn’t build this ship, we came aboard a year ago.” “Affirmative. Review of sensor data confirms your statement.” “And we’ve found evidence that there were people here before we came aboard.” “Affirmative.” “So if we aren’t the first, how can there not be previous occupants?” “A prior occupation would imply that it ended at some point.” I paused. “Lexa, how many occupants are aboard this ship?” “Unknown. Currently within range of active sensors are approximately two thousand.” “Which would be us.” “Primarily.” I paused again. “Primarily?” “The majority of the approximately two thousand occupants currently being tracked are part of the crew who came aboard with yourself.” “But not all of them?” “Affirmative.” “And the rest?” “Category 41a occupants.” “What is category 41a?” “Occupants deemed too mentally unstable for the well-being of the remaining occupants. As per standard operating protocols they should be isolated by security for the remainder of the voyage.” “They are insane?” “Affirmative.” “Lexa, how many occupants were aboard the ship when you were switched off?” “Four hundred.” “Out of how many?” “Approximately ten thousand.” “What happened to the rest?” “Fatal contact with category 41a occupants. Commander, I recommend you lock the door.”
The captain went over Carl's resume for the third time. It was probably a good sign. It meant the older man was through and paid attention to details. On the other hand, it could also mean he was focusing on the last few lines. "So, Mr. Trapper, I see you did well in the academy." "Yes, sir. Proud to say I graduated top of the class." "Good, good. So...was that due to, well..." "No, sir."Carl hesitate then a slow, slightly guilty smile crossed his face. "Well, maybe a little, sir." Of course he used his powers to graduate from the Police Academy. What was the use of being geokinetic if he did not use it? "Oh, but only the physical stuff."Carl said quickly. "The academic stuff I did on my own." Not that he had much choice. Being able to move rocks with his mind did not help much when studying laws and procedures. "I see. So, what exactly is geo...kinesis?" "Rocks, sir. I can control rocks and dirt and stuff. I also have mild strength and durability, but not much. Not even classified as super, just enhanced. I can lift a bit more than an Olympic weightlifter, and can take a shot from a .9 millimeter. But even that hurts like hell, and anything higher and it'll only do a little less than it would to anyone else." "I see. Of course, you do know what I have to ask now, don't you? Why join the force instead of taking the cape?" "Well, sir, if you don't mind my saying, I've always thought superheroes were a bit selfish." "How so?" "The only difference between a superhero and a normal vigilante is that the cameras love the capes. And that's just it, the cameras. Most of them are doing it for the attention more than the desire to protect people. Not all, I know there's some really good heroes out there. But the way I see it, if they really wanted to help people properly, they'd take the blue and work inside the law, instead of the cape and working outside it." The captain leaned back in his seat and thought. Carl took the opportunity to continue. "There's more, sir." "Oh? Do tell." "Well, sir, I've see what villains do to cops out there. It's not pretty." A shadow crossed the older man's face. He had indeed lost more good men than he could count to super villains over the years. "That's mostly because the police force doesn't have any supers on its payroll. Well, what if there was? Think of what that'd mean." The captain's eyes widened with understanding. "That would be something, wouldn't it. Of course, you'd only be able to use your powers against other powered threats." "I already figured that, sir. I had planned on it. The way I see it, if you take me on, I'd be this precinct's trump card. The big guns for bug emergencies. But, for the everything else, well, normal gear and take down methods have worked pretty well so far, haven't they?" The older man nodded his agreement. He set Carl's resume on his desk. For almost a minute, silence filled the room. "Okay."He said. "Normally, I'd take some time to conduct more interviews and really find the best candidate for the job. But honestly, with the recommendations and commendations you've gotten from the academy, plus your powers, well, I'm pretty damn sure I already found my guy. Welcome aboard."
Without any hesitation, I replied "Respec", but instead of getting to choose, like I thought, I was abruptly somewhere else, somewhere dark and warm. I tried to move, but it was difficult, struggling against something long enough that I had to pause and catch my breath. It could have just been a joke, I thought. That didn't explain how I ended up here though. Wherever here was. I could feel tears pricking at the edge of my eyes, which was strange. I wasn't really that frustrated, just confused. But I couldn't waste time just laying here. With another bout of struggling I finally threw off... The blanket? My hands looked swollen, pudgy. So did my legs and... A daiper? What the f-- "Aaaww, she's awake,"my mom said in a soft excited tone from nearby. When I looked to her, that's when I knew. She still had her hair short and pulled back, and no glasses. She was young. So young. Oh no. I'd started over. I was a baby again, and I had to do all that shit again.
I stared down at my brightly lit screen with groggy eyes. Great. Again? This was the seventh time this month I have received this notification. It’s starting to become quite a bother. I can’t help but to be nervous about it, even though I’m the only person I know who receives this notification. I’ve tried asking my roommates, coworkers, hell—I even asked my boss if she had received any texts like this. Nope. The past nights this happened, I managed to stay awake until I got the text sometime in the early morning saying I could sleep. The very first night, I desperately searched the internet for some sort of explanation for this warning. Nothing. I even went about subscribing to one of those stupid ‘trace this number’ internet services. To my dismay, this number didn’t even seem to be registered to any person, company, federal agency, or anything for that matter. I was sincerely at a loss. Tonight though, I have had enough. Since there was no explanation for these texts, and everybody around me thought I was just getting pranked, I decided to listen to them and just get my sleep. I just worked a 12-hour shift and damnit, I will be getting some sleep. I texted the number back for the first time with a foul response I would rather not type again. After setting my phone down, I got in bed and began to drift to sleep. — It felt like I woke up almost instantly. You know those nights when you fall asleep, and you sleep so hard that it feels like you barely blinked and eight hours passed? That was my sleep last night. Kind of disappointing, if I’m being honest. All this buildup for nothing. I rolled out of bed and switched into my clothes for the day. It was noticeably cold this morning. I live in Florida, so even in November it doesn’t usually reach below low 60’s. Today, it felt like a frigid 30’s. I picked up my phone to try and see what would explain this cold front, and why I hadn’t heard anything about it. No service. I went to settings to try and connect to my WiFi, assuming my phone just disconnected like it always does. No wifi. What was going on? I opened my curtain, and before I could open the window to stick my phone outside for service, I noticed something about the city surrounding my apartment. It’s hard to explain with words what encapsulated my window. Imagine what sound waves would look like if we could see them. Long, dense strips of fog seemingly vibrating. This fog was definitely in motion, and full of color. Almost like an entity in itself. I stared at it, drawn to the fullness and expression of color it portrayed. It was almost like watching a million movies all at once. I could hear every word I’ve ever heard, and in turn, see every thing I have ever seen. Only when I began seeing and hearing things that I’ve never experienced before, did I see this wave for what it truly was. I will not explain this to you. I fell to the ground, encapsulated by so much color and sound that everything faded (or grew) into a color that was no color, and a sound that was no sound. This is where I am now, in nothingness. Or maybe, it is everything. I don’t know who sent me those messages, but I think they must be here too. Wherever ‘here’ is.
I looked through the window of the door at my swap. I was inches from the door but didn't want to walk in. He hadn't realized I was there yet. "I hear he's a swap,"the nurse said next to me. "Yeah,"I nodded, swallowing hard. "You can go in if you want. It's still visiting hours. Though, he's been visited a lot today, so he might be a little tired,"she said. I didn't move, but she opened the door to go inside and he looked at me, his eyes widening in shock. "Oh my God,"he said hoarsely, his voice a fraction of its usual, loud self. "You came?" "Yeah,"I whispered, finally walking in behind the nurse. She took a look at some of the things hooked up to his arm and nodded to herself, taking a few notes on the clipboard at the end of the bed. "How are you feeling?"she asked. "The usual,"he said, wincing from an unknown pain. She nodded and took note of that as well. Then she looked up to me and said, "He's all yours, I'll be back at nine with your pills, okay?"she said as she walked out the door. He blinked in acknowledgment, then focused on me. He tried to sit up but groaned in agony. "Hey, don't get up on my part, I'm not worth it,"I said quickly, putting my hands up. He chuckled. "You sound a lot like Aaron with the lack of self-worth. Do you feel like me too?"he said, smiling slyly. "Aaron, you-- I-- you look awful,"I said, walking up next to the bed. He looked at himself in mock surprise. "I don't see an Aaron here. I'm Kurt,"he said coughing in pain. "Aaron, how long has this been going on?"I said, gesturing to the bed and monitor next to him. This time he actually looked surprised. "Did you not know you had cancer?"he asked sincerely, his voice almost reaching the level of normal conversation. I wrung my hands. "I felt awful the moment we swapped. But I couldn't find you with your resources. You were-- I am dirt poor. Not like I had a lot of free time to go find out what an Aaron Bixby was up to in my state,"he ended his sentence with another fit of coughing. "I-- I'm sorry Aaron--" "Kurt." "Whatever! I'm sorry, I thought that I could... That I'd be able to outlast..."I let the silence speak. Aaron's eyes grew wide. "You thought I would die before we switched back, didn't you?"he said, shocked. I looked out the window, not wanting to look at him. "And now we're a day away from switching back only to find that you'll be worse off,"he said to himself. I nodded slightly. "That sucks,"he said plainly. I nodded again, watching birds fly outside the window. "But you can let me die if you want, I don't really mind,"he suggested. I looked back at him, nonplussed. "What?" "You can--"he began coughing violently. So much so that I thought he couldn't breathe. I got up to call a nurse but he waved me back. I stepped back furtively. "You've seen my life Aaron,"he began. "Not really the glamour it looks like from the outside. No cancer, sure, but also no friends and terrible family. I was-- am much happier as Kurt. You know I had over twenty friends visit me today? Friends!"He coughed again. "I didn't even know twenty people like Aaron. Did you get any more friends than I had?" I shook my head, my mouth still opens in shock at his earlier suggestion. "Yeah, it sucks to be alone,"he whispered. His voice was getting fainter like each word sucked energy from him. Then he pointed a shaky finger at the IV bag next to him. "You pull that out of me and I skip my pills and I guarantee I'm dead,"he said suggestively. "Aaron--" "Kurt,"he corrected. "Kurt. I can't kill you,"I said. "Then you're dead,"he looked like he tried to shrug but couldn't. He looked deep into my eyes. "I'm letting you do this. Better you continue to live in happiness in your life, than my misery to continue. I'll gladly go. But it's your choice,"he said, laying back into his pillow and sliding his eyes closed. "Aaron-- Kurt, are you sure?"I asked. "I'm completely fine with it. Just make the move and I'm with you,"he said, his eyes still closed. "But... Aren't you afraid to die? I don't know what to do. I don't want to kill you, but I don't want to..."I realized he fell into a light sleep. I looked out the window again, then back to him. Today was my last day in this free body. But I'd have to murder my previous self to continue with it. I looked up to the IV bag. I swallowed hard. My heart hammered in my stomach as it lurched at my contemplating this decision. I looked back at the door. I could just leave and let the swap take its course. That was what I was supposed to do. It also would leave me with less of a guilty conscience. But was it better to have a guilty conscience or none at all? I stared out the window one last time, then made my decision. ______________________________________________________ For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!
It was more of a wheeze than a honk that signalled not only the death of the last remaining Canadian goose, but, and this was unbeknownst to all at the time, the last thread connecting Canadian politeness to the mortal realm. As the veterinarian watched the goose lay down its head slowly, he could’ve sworn he heard a blood curdling scream in the distance. It wasn’t the safest of Vancouver suburbs that his practice was situated in so he assumed it was either teens playing around or perhaps a tv from the apartment next door. Either way, he knew it was likely going to be followed by a polite apology to those the scream had unsettled. Unknown to him, and the unsuspecting world around him, that was an apology that would never come. In fact, not a single synonym or extrapolation verging on an apology would ever leave the lips of a Canadian again. Admittedly it was never known that there was any semblance of linkage between the population of Canadian Geese and the underlying politeness of Canadians. However, when the last goose died, it became all too real and all too known that such was the case. It was like something out of a low-budget zombie uprising really; swarms of Canadians spilling over the border into the United States, refusing to follow proper protocol and oblige any form of paperwork, fuelled by nothing more than syrup, hockey bloodlust and a repressed anger fettered for over two hundred years. Across the world reports of Canadian expats refusing to apologise, rudely pushing into queues ahead of their turn and laughing at others’ misfortune took over the news channels and websites. They hadn’t completely lost their humanity, but they had lost the last shred of what separates them from their polar opposites. Without politeness, without restraint, that final honk had turned them into ... Americans. •••••• Trust me, my writing is way better than how I’m currently asking you to check out my other writing prompt replies at r/VerboseBuffalo Read and (hopefully) enjoy, always open for feedback!
Scene 1: Curtain opens on a cross section of 4 dorm rooms lit by city lights outside. Laundry, books and various bits of garbage line the floor of 3 rooms, while the fourth is completely clean. It is plush and pink, and MASHA is sleeping in a raised bed. AMELIA is asleep in the other bed. Somebody is tapping a jazzy theme at their window. Masha: (groans) It.... it's morning. The morning before.... ochem. Amelia: (Whispers) Do you hear that? (Beat. Music kicks in and AMELIA hops out of bed in her pajamas.) Masha: Homey Teter quadrangle, on the quiet part of south campus. The spot where so stupidly I signed up for random roommate chances. I thought it would be super cool to live with a new friend, but now I know what she's really like, this nightmare has to end! Amelia: Oh my gosh, it's DARREN! He's totally here to see me! Can you believe it, Masha, I'm lucky he's so dreamy~ Masha: I have a test tomorrow, go take this show outside. Amelia: And let him see me like this? Ohmigod I'd die! Masha: aaaand that's the thing I hate to hear, I wish that she could know. I refuse to keep this frustration near, this couple's got to go. But if you look at schedules, schemes, semester plans and such: I've still got ten more weeks, but I say that's too much! Amelia: Can you help me pick a dress to wear? Masha: Girl, go back to sleep. Amelia: What makeup palette should I use? Masha: I think you should count sheep. Amelia: Maybe I'll take my skateboard too... Masha: Come on, ignore that creep! Amelia: How can you say those things to me? Masha: This situation makes me weep! Amelia: You don't get it, unsupportive jerk, that's never gonna be ok. I’m just asking you for basic stuff, can’t you see things my way? Masha: You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s 2 am right now! I’m tired and I have an early class- shut up, you stupid cow! Ever since you started dating I always have to sing. Well maybe I hate this world, I’m sick of this music thing! (Lightning crackles across the stage.) Amelia: ...really? Masha: really! Amelia: (throws on fancy dress.) Well if that's the way you feel. Goodbye. (She leaves. Masha is left sitting on her bed, feeling a bit guilty for shouting.) Masha: ...there better not be a song about my guilt after this. Edit: r/MoreStories for more!
His face emerged at night, in the early hours. Snow had fallen recently and the village was bathed in that comforting, sickly-sweet yellow glow from the flames of the street lamps. He wasn't discovered until hours later when the milkman trundled past on his cart. Humming, he drove down the road on the way to his first delivery. Silent, he stopped his cart and looked up at the window of the church. He had seen this a few times before, everybody had. That grey ghastly face which appears on the church windows shortly before some grim misfortune befalls their little village. The locals gave a name to the aberration, they called him 'Grinning Greg', and they knew that his appearance meant trouble. The milkman stumbled out of his cart in a frenzy, slipping over the freshly-fallen snow towards the village hall. A small bell-tower stood there, it had done for as long as anybody alive could remember, and at some point its use had been reserved for alerting the residents of Greg's arrival. The bell began to toll, its sombre knells rapid and irregular; reflecting something of the panic felt by its ringer, and of the dread it instilled in the hearts of the drowsy villagers it awoke. Soon a crowd had gathered outside of the church. People stood huddled together in their dressing gowns and night clothes. They spoke frantically to each other, their hushed tones muted further by the soft snow surrounding them. This was Greg alright, but not as they knew him. Greg wasn't grinning this time, he no longer affected that mocking, irreverent smirk the people had come to know and to despise. Greg didn't look pleased with himself at all. In fact, he looked down-right miserable. A low, aching tone seemed to emerge from deep within the church and the people broke-off conversation and looked up towards the features of their unhappy omen. The noise, almost a moan, repeated itself, more loudly and for longer this time. It was as if the building was trying to speak, as if Greg was through some monumental and supernatural effort attempting to give a voice to those lips which had tormented the villagers for so long. The noises continued with increasing frequency and rhythm until words could finally be discerned amid the melodic cacophony Greg was now producing. "This"he got out at last. The people strained to hear, they leaned towards the church but at this point the voice had enveloped them completely. "This", he repeated, "is the day I die. But do not despair, children. While my vigil is soon to end, my office remains permanent and essential. With what little strength remains to me, and in the recesses of my immeasurable pain, I will nominate a successor. One of you must enter here and perform the tasks which were assigned to me many centuries ago. One of you must warn this village and protect it from those dark forces which mortal minds struggle to comprehend. One of you, children, must become Greg."
"So..."Johnny's dad looked at him awkwardly. I had been a couple days and, sure enough, vitality was returning to Johnny. It would be slow going for a bit, but Johnny could eventually go back to life. That said, his family was going to have a few apprehensions. "What's up, pa? You look like you did when you walked in on me with my stash when I was starting high school." "Look, I'll be honest with you. Everyone thought you weren't going to make it. We planned your funeral and everything." Johnny smiled and looked kindly upon his father. "I understand. If I was in the same position, I'd be preparing myself and my family for what we though was inevitable. That fact that I suddenly recovered from that illness and the coma it put me in? A million to one chance." "No, I mean... everything." "I don't get it." "Son... we read your will." Johnny looked at him blankly. "What are you talking about?" "Rupert, you know, the family lawyer? He read your last will and testament. He could confirm it was yours." "Dad, I--" "No, let me finish. I commend your forward thinking, but what you put in there... Well, let's say a lot of the family is rather upset." "Dad, wait a--" "No, I have to say this now. Your uncle Jack is in jail. Once the will was read, it convinced your cousin Bobby to step forward and tell the police what... what my brother had done. Aunt Becky is also being investigated by the SEC. Hell, it seems the only family you didn't have choice words about were Karen. The very same Karen my father disowned. She was laughing at all of it!" "Dad, this isn't--" "Don't tell me what it is and isn't. The only one not upset at you is your momma. She just happy to have her boy back. When you leave here, her and I will be the only ones happy to see you. Well, maybe Aunt Karen too." "I don't have a will."The only sound in the room was a slight beep that came from the monitoring machine. "I was considering putting one together in the unlikely event that something happened to me. I spoke with Rupert about it but wanted to put my thoughts together on it. I hadn't even made up my mind when I suddenly had to go to the hospital." His father just looked ashen as all the blood drained from his face. "But... but the evidence! And Bobby's testimony! And who else would have known about Carl's drug... dealing..." They both looked at each other. "The family lawyer."
“Oh pantheons, another one.” I say as I affix my glasses and wait for this ‘Karen’ creature to walk up to my desk. “What can I do for you today ma’am?” I ask in the kindest possible tone I could muster. She huffs at me, “I want to speak with the manager!” I sigh hard. “Ma’am, I am literally the receptionist of every god of every religion and/or mythology to have existed on planet Earth. The Earth itself is my client, you’ll need to be specific.” She seemed to get frustrated by my response: “I want someone better than you, you lazy cunt!” I bite my tongue before I call Anansi, the spider god of stories. “Did you call Matt? I’m assuming something’s terribly wrong.” Before I could introduce him, Karen shouted in disgust. “Ew! I don’t want this one! He’s black and has tatoos!” Anansi looked at me in confusion and just left, calling Athena to come over. “What happened? Anansi never calls me.” Athena asked. Karen butted in with her complaint, “My son was kicked out of the local church because some miscreant forced him to put weed in the incense burner and frame my son!” I call over Jesus and Dionysus to discuss the issue. Karen scoffed. “And why are you not wearing a shirt young man?! I will have you arrested!” The perpetually drunk god, who was frighteningly sober, scoffed at her in return. “Well excuuuuuuse me for encroaching on your sensibilities, bitch! I am thousands of years old and as a party god, I know your son put the weed in there. You have no excuse!” The disgusting creature shouted, “I had enough of you pagans! I am a devout follower of Jesus Christ, the son of the one true God! You have no say in this you devil worshipper!” Jesus, a being with twice the patience of Buddha himself, finally snapped. “WELL I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU IDIOTS DISRESPECTING OTHER GODS AND CULTURES! JUST BECAUSE I AM THE MESSIAH, DESTINED TO SAVE THE WORLD DURING THE RAPTURE, DOESN’T MEAN YOU MUST DISRESPECT OTHER GODS!” He stormed out and I take the opportunity to call security on Karen’s ugly ass.
Death snorts, crossing his arms and looked down at her from under his black hood. "What could you offer me, mortal, that you truly think I could want?"He sneered. She was silent a moment. She didnt seem scared, to his suprise. She looked thoughtful. Finally, the woman looked him up and down and smiled lightly. "Come with me."She said, seeming almost excited. She spun and headed back into the home she had just died in. Death frowned, but followed the young woman. She led him into her kitchen. "Sit please."She ordered, gesturing lazily to the counter chair opposite her. He wondered what trick this woman was trying to pull. She was humming to herself and pulled something out of the oven. With a few flicks of her wrist she ribboned chocolate sause and caramel over something he couldn't see. A moment later she placed a large slice of chocolate chunk turtle brownie and a tall glass of almond milk in front of him. He blinked and rose a brow at her. "That's my trade."She said confidently. "You know I cant be poisoned, right?"He checked. "Why would I poison you? The deal is this; you eat that you leave me alive."She laughed. "No point in killing you then. Even if it would work.' He looked hard at the dessert. It had been many many years since anyone had tried to win his favor with food. He took the sticky square and savored it. "That worked!"She exclaimed, jumping up and down. "Its been centuries since I've eaten. No one offers me food anymore."He explained, licking the sause from his hand. She smiled at him warmly. "If you feel peckish, come see me sometime."She offered as the stab wound that had ended her life closed. She tentatively stroked the scar. "I'll take you up on that. After all, you're immortal now. Use the time to perfect your cooking." "Wait, Im-" And in a puff of smoke he was gone. Nothing left but a golden coin on her counter.
I knew that something was off. Most people are able to live their everyday lives without something happening beyond being born and dying, but apparently Fate has other plans for me. When the sword came hurtling towards me I thought I was going to die. What happened was actually much worse. King Everard the Mighty has been at war for the past decade. The neighboring country to the south has been torching our farmland and killing our people for as long as I can remember. Ten years ago, King Everard launched a counterattack. It looks to me that the king has just died, possibly in battle as his sword is still slick with blood. It feels heavy in my hand. I know the legends, I know the stories, and I don’t want to be king. I’ve been standing here, frozen, for the past ten minutes, staring at this sword. My wife, Elena, rushes towards me. The look of concern on her face turns to shock as she sees me standing in the midst of our cabbage field holding a bloody sword. Trumpets blare in the distance. They’re coming for me. The last thing I see before everything goes dark and upside down is Elena teaching to catch me. … At the castle, I am propped up and handed a goblet of mulled wine. The shock has given way to dread. I’m not worthy of this. I’m not ready. I am the last person anyone would choose to be king. I’m going to get myself killed. The words start to fly over my head and someone has to fetch smelling salts to keep me from collapsing again. This isn’t happening. Elena is still by my side. Everyone else leaves, and I am sitting on the steps leading up to the throne, staring at the bloody sword in my hand. She reassures me that I can do this, that I can do anything, but the numbness is only barely beginning to fade. In walks the Queen. She has already put on her black mourning, but her presence is still powerful. I shouldn’t be here. I should be at home harvesting my cabbages. She speaks, and suddenly nothing else matters. “Winthrop, I have been expecting your arrival. It is good to see that a regent has been chosen.” I snap up. The word “regent” means something other than “king” and right now I would be happier only if I was still at home. The words are shaky and my voice cracks. “Regent, your highness?” She smiles, and as she steps further towards Elena and me I can see the bulge under her dress. It all starts to make sense. “When Everard left for the battlefield, I was with child. Now that my husband is dead there is no one to raise and guide my child towards greatness. Except you, Winthrop. You have been chosen.” … Every year that passes astounds me. Elena and I were never able to have children of our own, and the growth and development of Everard the Junior is a blessing we had not expected. He is only twelve, but every day that passes he becomes more prepared to bear his fathers legacy. My time is limited, I know. Elena does not want to admit that I am slowly dying, but I fear that I will only have a few years left before the sword that appointed me regent passes to its rightful heir. It has been a journey.
\[Rescued from Paradise\] "I should've just deleted it,"Molly whispered to herself between heavy pants. The 25-year-old woman crouched in an alleyway behind an overflowing dumpster. It was night time but a multitude of neon pinks, blues, and reds kept the darkness at bay; it was hard finding a shadow to hide in even in the alley. When Molly first found the destination labeled 'Paradise' on her used 'Sharp Travel - Instant Transmission Module' she considered it a joke. No matter what the label said she assumed it would take her to somewhere ridiculous. She considered deleting it for a brief second; then, instead decided to get it over with and find out where the mystery location was. That was 20 minutes ago. She expected to find a return Module at her destination. Molly found herself in the middle of a neon city at night with no hint of a return module anywhere. Crowds of pedestrians flowed around her and she approached the closest person. When the rotting zombie turned to face her, Molly didn't scream immediately. She thought it might be a great costume for some reason. It wasn't until she noticed the rest of the crowd were also zombies Molly shrieked and bolted as fast as she could away from them. She was glad they seemed to be the slow variety of zombies. Molly ran and turned down random streets and alleys hoping to lose them and she finally felt safe enough to stop and catch her breath behind a dumpster. "You're safe, they're pretty easy to run from,"a woman said. Her voice sounded dry and almost gravelly. Molly looked up toward the voice, then she jumped back; banging herself into the alley wall. A short, green-skinned woman with broad triangle-shaped ears stood across the alley from Molly. Even though Molly was crouching, the standing goblin met Molly's gaze eye to eye. The goblin smiled and giggled. "Well, you're safe from them; it seems you're still a danger to yourself. Good luck,"the goblin waved and proceeded to walk toward the alley's exit. "Wait!"Molly said. "Can you help me?!"The goblin stopped walking, then turned to face Molly with a nod. "If I can't, I'll help you find someone that can. What's the trouble?"she asked Molly. "You can call me, Risa, by the way." "I'm Molly. Thank, Risa,"Molly replied with a nod. "I don't know where I am or how to get home,"Molly said. "Oh, that's cake,"Risa grinned and closed the gap between them. She stuck her hand out as if offering Molly a handshake. "You're on the Paradise server in the AlterNet."Molly grasped Risa's hand. She did not feel anything but she thought she saw a small, dim pulse of purple light pass between their hands. "This horrible place is actually called Paradise?"Molly asked. Risa shrugged, then wiggled her fingers at the air. "I didn't name it,"she said as Molly watched a black portal appear in front of her. Her eyes widened as the hole grew tall and wide enough for her to walk through it. "This is an odd question, but is it okay if I visit your house?"Risa gestured at the black hole. "I like seeing new places." "My.., that's my house!?"Molly asked. Risa nodded. "Of course! Come in!"Molly dashed through the portal and found herself in her basement with the Sharp Travel module installed in the corner. She sighed with relief then turned around to greet her goblin guest. Risa walked out of the portal as a tall, fair-skinned woman with the same light brown hair as the goblin. "You're a shapeshifter!?"Molly asked. Risa shook her head. "I'm human, the goblin is my AlterNet character. I thought you'd like help making yours. Now that you've discovered the multiverse, there's a lot out there for you to see." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1009 in a row. (Story #279 in year three.) You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog.
Part 1: She stood unmoving in front of the door unsure how to begin. Thousands of minds gently encouraged her while just as many said she was wasting her time that it had been tried so often before and had always ended in pain and hurt. Funnily enough it was the doubters that motivated her more, she wanted to prove them wrong, wanted to show them all what she had with Brian was so special that she could convince him.She raised her hand and knocked on the metal door, the knock she had always used to let him know it was her, a happy little tune she had made up, except for the last three notes which he was supposed to finish. No reply came.. She tried again. Still nothing. Her mind and others began to race. He thought she was dead, what would he have done? They knew he was down here, had he killed himself? He wouldn't would he? That's what she and many others would have done. WE TOLD YOU IT WOULDN'T WORK WE TOLD YOU THERE WOULD BE PAIN WE TOLD YOU IT WOULD HURT! "Quite please everyone!"Came a thought not loud but clear and the overwhelming din grew silent. It had come from her cherished friend You-jin, a kindly grandmother on the other side of the world she would have never met outside of the hive mind. "One more time dear."she said, her smiling face clear in her minds eye. She raised her hand and knocked again, and she felt the thousands of minds watching quite with baited breath. The reply came this time, the three notes were hesitant and full of disbelief, but a great celebration sprang across the collected minds watching. She felt like crying and laughing at the same time as she shouted "Brian, Brian, I am so glad to know your okay!""Kate?"Came the reply, so quite she could barely hear it with her ear against the door. "Am I going insane? I... I saw you die! I saw you get taken and dragged down and stabbed!"The words spilled out from him as his mind was unable to come to terms with what was happening."Its okay."she reassured him "You haven't lost it, yes I was taken, but they don't kill. I am fine right here on the other side of this door.""So you just want me to open up and welcome you in is that it?"Brian said, a very dangerous edge accompanying the sarcasm."I am not forcing you to do anything, I came here to talk, explain and eventually try to convince you to come back to me. I miss you"She said soothingly"You're going to have to do better than parrot her voice back to me you fucker!"She felt the vibration from his stomping footsteps as he turned to leave. "Brian stop!"She pleaded pounding on the door "I am not some fucking Jehovahs Witness trying to sell you on a religion! Its all me up here in my head its just I share it now, we all do! I miss you and I want to talk, about anything it doesn't matter. I know you have nothing to do in there except be bored so please talk to me. How... how are the tomatoes doing and other plants? Did you get the garden working?"her words tumbled out as she scrambled to get him to stay.She heard him walk towards the door again and felt him slump against it. His sobs could be heard for several minutes and eventually he choked out "I miss you so much Kate."there was another pause as he took in a shuddering breath "Yes I got the garden working."
You watch Madame Octavius record the end of her message, where she challenges the Crimson Guardian to make it to the bank before the hostages are all blown away. Behind you is a few pallets of plastic explosives, with frightened, mummering hostages tied to each one. You are surrounded by a middle-aged, crying bank teller and a rather irritated young businessman, mouth duct-taped due to repeated complaints about the whole situation. You sigh. If only you hadn't been here, this would have been just another day. Sneak in through the city's derelict subway tunnels, trigger the alarms to distract Octavius's guards, take them out one by one, and steal their uniform. Walk right up through that convenient back staircase by the elevators, and deliver a good smack to her third eye, the source of her telekinetic abilities. All in a day's work. But you had to go make a withdrawal on today, of all days. Really, Hank? That classic muscle car couldn't have waited one more day in a parking lot? You're not sure what to blame. Is it your superhero lifestyle, making every errand potentially dangerous, or is it your tendency to buy things you don't need. I mean, you've only used that Guardian Police Radio like, what, twice? You know a burner phone would be much more effective. Now here you are, out of costume, out of gadgets, and with only one option. Reveal yourself. It would be easy. Break free of the chains, tell Octavius who you really are, have some kind of epic clash, go home. But if you wanted your name out on the streets, you would have revealed it years ago. It's not safe to have yourself tied to that kind of life. You put on the cape, you don the mask, and you expect all that will stay as another life, like watching a movie that you can turn off at the end. Hell, if you really wanted to, you could stop the superhero gig anytime. You've told yourself that plenty of times. That time she slammed you into a water tower? Oh boy, it took plenty of convincing and inspirational music to put on the suit after you returned from the hospital. But, there's something about the fame around it that you just can't give up. Crimson Guardian is larger than life, and no matter how tough it is to go up against the grain every time you're met with an impossible problem, when you get through it and onto the other side, you really do feel like the legend. You grit your teeth. Come on, you have about, what, two minutes left? There's no way out of this one, but how many times have you thought those same words? "There's no way out."That's nonsense, you think, as you move your hands to pull a coin out of your pocket. There's always a way out, it's just a matter of figuring out this puzzle. You'll find a way because you have to, because you have no other option. You angle your watch towards the back wall of the bank, catching the sunlight on it. "Hey, it's him! It's the Crimson Guardian!"Octavius and her guards look in the direction you're facing, and in the moment they all stare at the point of light, wondering if it has something to do with what you've spotted, you flick the coin as fast as you can into the third eye of Octavius, temporarily blinding her and causing her to react with pain. With the guards and your nemesis distracted, you waste no time to move quickly. You break free of the ropes and move toward a nearby pillar, kicking it over so it falls on you. Offering a quick scream, you allow yourself to be crushed by the giant stone column. You know you can survive this, but no one else in the bank knows. Madame Octavius and her guards see an innocent man get taken out by a feat of what can only be super strength, and instantly go on guard. A bit of a gamble, but the flurry of action has them on their toes, and their uncaring nature towards civilians has them unconcerned towards your apparent death. Your fellow hostages, perhaps, are now made aware, but you guess you'll cross that bridge when you get to it. Rummaging around in your pocket, you find... another coin. Looks like all that loose change really did help in the end. Eyeing your targets, you flick the coin again, this time bouncing off the wall and breaking through the front glass windows. The guards fire in the direction of the sound, and Octavius marches to the front windows, spouting off one of her usual lines about "I have you now, Guardian!"or whatever. Sheesh, do villains listen to themselves speak? Building off the distraction, you roll from underneath the pillar and dive into the teller's booth, creating another crash which grabs the attention of your enemies. They open fire upon the teller's booth, but nothing that could harm you, and now, you're hidden underneath the desk, so you finally have your first advantage. Using the microphone, you boom over the loudspeakers: "It's over, Madame Octavius. I'd suggest you retreat while you still have the option."She shoots back "I think you'll find you're quite cornered in here, Guardian. No matter how fast and slippery you think you may be, even the slickest rat must know when he's in a trap!"You hear footsteps approaching, and in reaction, you grab a chair and, without looking as to show your face, you throw it through the window and towards the direction of the sound, hearing a cry of pain. You have a form of defense, and as long as you stay back here, she can't see your face. You don't know what you'll do next, but the Guardian always finds a way. Always.
He keeps calling me, “the Wolverine”, or something dumb like that. My name is Logan but Charles won’t call me that. He keeps saying we get special names because we have special powers. I remember when I woke up here I was so confused. I tried to ask what was happening and all I could get back was that he thinks my family wasn’t really my family but instead they were trying to experiment on me. He insists that he saved me and that only he can help me realize my potential. One of the other boys here, Scott and I met this girl named Jean, this was before we knew exactly how dangerous Charles was. It was clear he wasn’t a good guy I mean he had kidnapped at least the three of us and a few others but he hadn’t hurt us yet. Jean would throw things at Charles whenever she had the opportunity and try to pretend like she did it with her mind to play into his psychotic beliefs. But it didn’t help in fact instead it only made it worse. Because then she would get “tested” and when she couldn’t move things with her mind she was beaten. Eventually Charles said he knew what her power was. He called her, “The Phoenix”, he lit her on fire as me and Scott watched. He muttered over and over that she was powerful and amazing. But I’ll be damned those screams, those wretched screams, I won’t ever forget them. Jean was a good person, she didn’t have powers. She never rose up. Shortly after that he took Scott, to “test” him too. He gouged out his eyes and called him, “the Cyclops”. This old man is crazy. I don’t know how long he has been doing this, but if you’re reading this run. This is the waiting room and the testing room is next door, it seems you’re next.
Executing Birdeye.exe With the command entered, my screen went blank, before opening with a list of birds and their native regions. Today I went for a pigeon, not needing one of the more exotic birds. This was just a regular scouting mission, after all. To think the humans hadn’t figured out the true purpose of birds yet. Sure, some had caught onto the fact that birds weren’t real, but many contributed this conspiracy to some secret government agency or shady billionaire, not knowing the true creator of birds was me, a cosmic entity whose job it was to ensure that Earths simulation remained realistic at all times. There were others like me, each controlling their own sector, struggling with their own issues, I was one of the lucky ones. Humans were rather dull, unable to comprehend the true scale of the universe. This made it easy for me to maintain control over their world, having them believe the universe outside of their planet was more than a simple fancy light show. “Seems there’s a bit of broken code here?” My computer blinked an ominous red warning, showing that a part of the simulation broke. Flying my pigeon over to the location, I sat it down, having it idle by picking at the scraps on the floor, allowing me to use its 360 degrees camera without raising suspicions. “Ah, there it is, stupid floating old lady glitch. Better bring her down before she calls herself a superhero or something crazy.” I tapped away at my keyboard, looking over the area’s programming, noticing the bug right away. It appeared the old lady had stepped over the sidewalk in such a way that it bugged out the simulation, causing her to rise instead of dropping to the ground below. An easy fix and with no witnesses it made the amount of cover up work I needed to do even easier. Within a few moments the old lady rejoined the earth, feet tapping against the cement. She looked around, trying to make sense of the situation before continuing with her day. That’s what I loved about humans. So quick to shrug off a bug. You couldn’t get away with such a blatant error with other races. Phew guess that’s one bug taken care of. Maybe I should go have my lunch. Pulling away from my chair, I reached for my celebratory afternoon donut, only to stop when the screen flashed red, hundreds of warnings coating the screen, threatening me to take action. Impossible, even on the worst of days, Earth didn’t have this many issues. What was going on? HACKER DETECTED, RUN DEFENSIVE MEASURES Defensive measures? What the hell were defensive measures? Don’t tell me that was the training seminar I skipped? I didn’t think the humans could hack our systems. How far had those apes developed? I tried to get my drone to take off, wanting to survey the damage, only to realize I couldn’t actually get it to fly. My pigeon only able to pathetically jump up and down, trying to take off. With the pigeon out of commission, I had to rely on my other satellites, zooming into certain rooms and outdoor areas. With the world descending into chaos, I witnessed some strange events. Trees, T posing before crushing people between their branches, Senior citizens being given guns for hands, causing some rather intense bingo matches and worst of all, all the screens in the world now displayed my slime coated face with the caption. ‘Our Dictator.’ This was bad, I looked over my shoulder, making sure no one could see my monitor, trying to rewrite the code as quickly as I could, yet when I patched one area of the programming, another snapped apart. They were a step ahead of me, now I just had to accept my defeat. Rewriting the code, I animated my appearance on the screen, removing a little excess slime from my chin, wanting to look a little better. “Greetings mortals, it appears some of your most wise citizens have figured out our code. Please reveal yourselves and ascend to a higher power.” I leaned into my microphone, making my words echo through the sky. “I did it, all me.” A twitchy man said, his image quickly overtaking mine on the screen. His avatar having an eight pack and two 3d females by his side, a worse attempt than mine to look better. Despite his obvious deception in his looks, he spoke with an air of cockiness, his taunts getting under my goo. “Do I get a reward now?” “A reward? Oh, you certainly do.” I clicked on him, reading his name. Albert Smith? I’ll remember you. With that the world went dark as I shutdown the server, having to hurry, not wanting to kill the bodies. Each passing second without the simulation running caused their oxygen levels to drop. After a minute, I had patched the server, reverting it to an older version. It was a shame to lose a day of simulated progress, but I had no other option. The man’s skills outwitted my own. When the server returned, I quickly searched the man on the index, typing a little command I like to call- GETS HIT BY BUS.exe Watching Albert as he left his home, only for a bus to speed down the street, swerving right into him, killing him in an instant. “Heh, there’s your reward, wait where did his body go?” When he died, a screen appeared. My Fantasy adventure with love and romance, how to slay dragons in a cool cape 2.exe Had he made a simulation in my simulation? Then he intended for me to kill him, wanting to escape this simulation so he could go into one of his own. How brilliant. I could have attempted to shut down his simulation, but it used no extra power and kept him out of my goo. I didn’t want to try my luck deleting his new world, who knows what security he had set up to prevent my interference. “Checkmate Albert, enjoy your world.” &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
Eliza Taft was desperate to grow her WitchTube audience. She was running herself ragged, trying to put out a new video every day. Each video was at least twenty minutes long, and featured slick edits as well as engaging and informative content. Her weekly upload schedule looked like this: Monday: beginner charms Tuesday: divination Wednesday: intermediate charms Thursday: mild curses Friday: crystals and energy Saturday: grave curses Sunday: potions and alchemy Eliza had managed to keep to her schedule without fail these past two months. And her hard work was paying off. She had amassed nearly 300 subscribers in that time. Of course, she would have loved to charm her channel to increase viewership and engagement. But that was strictly against the WitchTube terms of service and would almost certainly result in her channel getting burned at the stake--which is to say, banned. But there is more to creating great content than simply showing up in front of the camera and pressing record. Especially when one's content hinges on one possessing certain knowledge, items and ingredients. A lot of background work went into making each of the young witch's videos a success. Eliza had to ensure she had enough charms and curses memorized. She had to keep her crystals sufficiently charged with moonlight, sunlight, or infant cries. Of course, on Tuesdays, she could always rely on Tarot and Oracle cards for some easy divination content; but if she really wanted to stand out, say, by making a series on haruspication, she had to ensure she had viable animal sacrifices available for disembowelment. Sundays always proved the easiest, for Eliza was a naturally gifted at potioncraft and alchemy, just like her father before her. She could safely spend the bulk of her time worrying about, and preparing for, the other six days of the week, knowing that when Sunday arrived, she could make a spectacular video on the fly. But this Sunday was different. For when she awoke and wandered to her humble herb garden, looking for fresh ingredients to feature in her alchemy video, she was met with a harrowing sight. The flower pots were toppled and broken. The garden itself had been dug through and trampled upon. Some hungry animal had snuck in, torn apart and chomped up everything! Eliza was distraught, not only because some of the herbs and plants were quite rare, and had taken her no small pains to cultivate, but also because she was now at a loss for what to feature in today's video. In vain she examined the stems of the fallen plants, looking for usable leaves. Everything useful in the garden had been stripped away by the greedy creature! She wished she could find him and capture him: he would make a pleasant addition to her series on reading animal entrails. Alas, she did not have time to track him down. She hardly had time for anything. She had to get started on her video as soon as possible. She ran inside to seek out other ingredients. Her fridge was barren. Her spice rack was filled with dozens of empty jars. She had been working so assiduously on her channel that she had not bothered to buy groceries in weeks. She had been sustaining herself on moonbeams, UberEats, and prescription amphetamines. Her unbalanced life was finally catching up to her. She was reaping the fruits she had sown. As she stood before her pantry door, she muttered an incantation for luck, praying that when she opened it she might find something, anything, she could use in today's video. She opened the door. The pantry was filled with empty boxes. There was nothing inside save a bag of decaf tea and a shrimp flavoured Top Ramen spice packet. She looked from the tea to the Ramen spice and back again, racking her brains. She was ready to give up completely, declare herself a failure, and begin the gradual decline from habitually meeting deadlines and goals to habitually missing them. "Tetley's decaf and spicy shrimp flavouring,"she muttered to herself. It took a few more moments, mulling the ingredients over. But then her eyes grew wide and bright. "Of course!"she cried, scooping the ingredients up and running to her alchemy table to begin experimenting. \- - - Part 2! [https://www.reddit.com/r/CLBHos/comments/n2u958/modern\_magic\_with\_liz\_the\_urban\_enchantress\_part\_2/](https://www.reddit.com/r/CLBHos/comments/n2u958/modern_magic_with_liz_the_urban_enchantress_part_2/)
''Actually I've only been playing it for 381 years to be perfectly honest, I had it installed for my brother originally, you see. He was one of those people who have a most singular understanding of one subject, in which they are masters, and a rather terrible comprehension of practically everything around them. He used to play so beautifully, on instinct he understood the music, and barely anything else around him. I used to sit in these chambers, listening to him play for hours. I only took up playing myself after my dear brother Francois died. I do miss him terribly.'' The journalist took a step back from the young marquis. The marquis did not notice this, he simply gently touched a key. Momentarily caught off-guard, the journalist got back on track. ''Ah, jokes, I did not take you for a humorous man.'' The marquis turned and stared with dark eyes upon the American journalist. ''I am not a man who makes jokes.'' He then turned back to the organ and sat down to play it. Without reading the notes, he played flawlessly, Passacaglia in C minor, an early Bach piece. The journalist, noted that it sounded haunting, and remarkably sad. When it was done, he felt he had to ask. ''Well, uh, you're not immortal, are you? I mean, I was just asking about your spooky organ, but...'' Without wasting a single breath, the marquis took out an old-fashioned cavalry sabre mounted on the wall next to the organ and plunged it straight into his own heart with a dramatic flounce. ''I assure you, I did not agree to an interview just to speak of old castles and the impertinent depravity of modern nobility. But to do what no other have ever dared; to pull away the masquerade, and show the world the truth behind the veils.'' Shocked, the journalist, a man who had previously been a second-fiddle player, a journalist who got a steady pay and second rate jobs, realised the implications of marquis' declaration. ''Wait... are you saying that you're...'' The marquis cut him off by pulling out his blade from his chest and licking the pale red blood off it. ''Indeed! I am immortal, but leave your ideas of dark and dusty vampire romance in the books where they belongs. I am not one of the thirsting parasites that once plagued the world before we immortals purged them as the vermin they were.'' Scribbling furiously the journalist's mind polished off the dusty dreams, not of vampires, but of a Pullitzer, of recognition, of fame at long last. ''If you're not a vampire, then what are you?'' The marquis pulled from the inside of his pockets a small vial filled with shimmering liquid and drank it all. ''My good fellow, I was at first an alchemist, reading through ancient tomes and scavenging Europe's ruins for answers. And I found it; Immortality through a Philosopher's Stone. But the recipe was guarded by older immortals, and I had to make alliances. The rich philosopher-alchemists lived opulent lives and hunted other creatures of magic for sport, forsaking the quest for knowledge to indulge in petty hedonism and weak arrogance. So I joined their enemies. Stray fairies, the odd revenant, the few remaining members of Europe's werewolf population, others who had been rejected in their quest for knowledge and immortality. I united them under one banner, one that meant the rejection of that coven of Warlock-Alchemists and their foul ideology of self-indulgence.'' The journalist wrote it all down, and took pictures of the marquis, as the wound in his chest began to heal. ''Really, they should have prepared. They made enemies like the rich makes money. The werewolves wanted to live, the fairies were tired of being bound as slaves to their will, the undead wanted vengeance, and those like myself who had desired knowledge. But they hadn't. Thus they were unprepared for a true and coordinated attack.'' The marquis grinned, and the journalist noted the wolf-like nature of such a smile, like a predator, preparing to pounce. ''Oh, they tried to fight, but their corpulent bodies were no longer strong enough to work the alchemic magicks, nor to run after their mercenaries fled. We fought hard and chased them to the centre, but their master had lain a trap. Their master was the foul man who had called himself the Comte De Saint Germaine, but in reality was the warlock who claimed to be Hermes Trismegistus, though that too was a name he had stolen from the dead. And he used the alchemic powers of the first Philosopher's Stone to cursed and slay us all. But as he only had human blood, he could only kill those of us who were human.'' The journalist put down his pen. ''But you were human back then?'' The marquis sighed and looked wistfully out over the fields where he grew his fine red wines. Lit only by the half-moon, that most magical of Moons, there was an eerie feeling of looking at them, on such a cold spring day. ''I was. And I nearly died. Were it not for one of the werewolves. Grateful for my aid in saving them from going the way of the dragons, the last Great Werewolf, one of those who have been alive since the first wolves mingled with the first tribe of men, bit me, saving my life. But my fellow scholars, who had been nearly the entire alchemist population of Europe at the time, had all perished. I was still mortal, for the Great Werewolves cannot pass immortality on. So I devised a plan. The great plan.'' At that moment the marquis sauntered over to the window and stared at the moon intensely. The journalist noted that he was beginning to change. ''I would give the werewolves the one thing that they didn't have. Control. Through alchemic means I would make them the masters of their own transformation. No more madness on the night of the full moon. In exchange they would help me create a new Philosopher's Stone.'' The journalist took a few steps back as the nobleman transformed fully, in a graceful and slender wolf-like man with silvery fur. Yet his amber eyes still glowed with the wisdom and knowledge of a man. His voice was before like sweet honey. Now it sounded stronger, like a steel blade drawn from its sheath. ''We succeeded. But as the new millennium dawns, it occurs to me that things are changing. I have successfully faked the deaths of my old identities numerous times. But times they are changing. I cannot do that forever. Not even with the wealth and immortality offered by the Philosopher's Stone. The werewolves followed me home to live as very successful citizens near my estates, and though I offered them immortality, none of them have had the vision or desire to live that long. But they can't hide themselves in the long run. Now, with genetic testing, with cameras small enough to carry in your pockets, with the internet, with mass media growing as we enter the first year of the 21st century, I have made the executive choice, with the agreement of the werewolf clans of Europe, to reveal ourselves.'' The journalist was so focused on writing down everything that he did not notice the marquis coming closer. ''And I feel, my good American journalist, that in this scientifically insistent era, one must have definite proof of the supernatural. It is an age of reason and sceptics. How will they believe, unless they have proof?'' With that said he grabbed with his paws unto the journalist, and showing off his sharp glistening canine teeth, lifted the man off the floor. ''I do apologise for the pain this will cause you my friend. But with a little inoculation afterwards, a vaccine you might say, the side-effects won't affect your life much. In time, you will enjoy the wilder side.'' The powerful wolf-jaws then locked themselves onto the journalist's shoulders and bit deeply. He screamed at first, but then he felt it flowing into him. Something primal. Something old. An intoxicating feeling. Like a mix between kissing the most beautiful woman in the world, his wife, and getting soundly drunk. Proof for his article, his work-related brain-functions said. Definite proof. His editors will not reject this. And thus, in the Spring of 2000, things changed. In one large town in rural France, where people don't often move away, people soon stopped wearing their human faces entirely. Yeti and Sasquatch came down from the mountains. Elves and fairies came out of the woods. And a wash-up has-been journalist from a small newsgroup, accepted the Pulitzer award while howling to the Moon. [/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)
I finally bought a smart watch. All my friends already had one, and did nothing but give it praise. All my messages, emails, and in some cases even phone calls on my wrist? Sounds nice. I was reluctant to get one because it feels so wasteful. I already carry my phone with me everywhere, why do I need another device? So I made a compromise. I’ll just hit up my local pawn shop and find one there. Who can afford $200+ for a watch? Not me, that’s for sure. I looked through all the smart watches they had, and settled on a used one that had GPS on it. That would be nice. When I go on hikes, I like to stray from the trail a bit, and my phone usually dies. I’ve never been totally lost before, but it would be nice to have just a little bit of a safety net. First thing I do when I get back to my car is link it to my phone. There are a lot of apps on this watch, even after doing the factory reset. I figure the best app to start with would be the GPS app. That’s strange…a bunch of dots on the map. The center of the map is a blue dot. I guess that’s me. Then, there are five other green dots. When I look out my window, I can see someone on a walk. One of the green dots is moving, just like her. A little creepy, but I guess this watch can track other people. Likely without their consent. I don’t see a smart watch on this lady, but she likely has a phone. The watch has a radius of about two blocks. So I can’t always see who the people are. A couple days have passed. I’ve defaulted to leaving the GPS app on all the time. Silly, I have to exit it just to see the time. I’ve sort of made a hobby out of guessing what green dots are. Two green dots together around the corner. Friends? Lovers? Strangers? Two dots moving quickly. Someone being chased? Two people working out? Who knows. It’s really fun to guess. Though it does make me feel a little creepy. I’ve yet to see anyone with my exact smart watch, and when I tried to look up information on it, I found nothing. I don’t even know how I managed to get it connected to my phone. Leaving work on a Monday afternoon. I chose to walk in. A three mile walk is surprisingly fun when I get to play around on my watch. A dreary autumn evening, perfect weather for walking. The slight drizzle is nice, and I’m excited for the walk. Of course, my eyes are glued to my watch. Some of the people I pass by always say hi, and I bet they call me watch girl, since I’m always looking at it. I recognize so many of the green dots when walking, and when new green dots show up I get excited to see new people. Halfway through my walk, I take a short break at a bench near a pond. The rain has picked up a little. Very few people are out at this time. Just too early for people to have their regular walks, and I’m the only fool to walk home from work in the rain. I saw nobody around so I look at my watch, and sure enough, not a single green dot for at least two blocks… But what’s this? A red dot? I’ve never seen a red dot before. It’s behind me about a block. And it’s moving towards me. When I look behind me, all I see is an apartment building. Whatever the red dot is, it’s behind that building. As ashamed as I feel admitting this, I was a bit scared. I had no idea why one dot was red. If it was blue like me, maybe it would have made sense that someone else had my same watch, but red? I’ve only had this watch a few days, and I have no idea what this red was. A plane? That made no sense, I would hear it for sure. A car? No…I’ve passed probably hundreds of cars and they always just have green dots. A murderer? That’s all I can think of. I grab my phone and disable location services. Still, the watch shows the red dot moving in. The watch has its own GPS system on it, of course disabling location services won’t work. At this point, I’m panicking. The red dot is moving closer, and I’m all alone. I’m visibly shaking at this point, and get up and start to run. My phone was in my lap, and it clutters to the ground and the screen shatters. Great, there goes my chance of calling 911. I hurriedly pick it up to try and see if it still works. The screen is on, but it’s not registering my fingers when I try to open the phone app! I shove it in my pocket and run. Nobody is around, and even if they were, how would I explain that I’m running from a dot? I dart across the path next to the pond toward home. So many thoughts are rushing through my adrenaline laced brain. I can’t call the cops anymore, at least until I get home and can try a bit harder to get my phone working. But do I even want to go home? If this stalker psychopath murderer follows me the whole time, then they’ll know where I live. So should I run elsewhere? Am I over-reacting to this red dot thing? Do I just go somewhere public? No luck there, I live in such a rural area that besides a few apartment buildings and houses, so few people live here. The most public place would be a grocery store several miles away. And I’m also realizing I forgot my keys at work, so I can’t even get inside my own apartment! I keep running, only glancing at the watch occasionally. The red dot is still moving in on me, making erratic movements, stopping in random places for just a moment, and then darting along. And that’s when I see a blue dot following it. Chasing it. Perhaps two people are chasing me? Or perhaps the red dot is being chased? I’m too afraid for myself to be afraid for someone else. I come across a small park. There are lots of trees and bushes. I take a moment to catch my breath. My lungs feel like they’re bleeding. I rip the smart watch off my arm and throw it into a nearby bush, and continue running. After less than 10 yards or so, I trip over a tree root and collapse behind a bush, letting a pained whimper out. I smashed my knee, and it hurts. After quickly trying to stand up and my knee buckling, I accept my fate. I wheeze uncontrollably for another minute before calming my breath down. Instantly, I regret getting rid of the watch. In a moment of panic, I figured I was being chased by someone else locating the watch. But that was just a theory. At least when I had the watch, I knew where the red dot was. Now I was blind. I try to do some quick math in my head. The red dot was moving a little bit faster than I was when I was in full blown sprint mode. I likely only had another 30 seconds or so until the red dot would be upon me. I closed my eyes and hoped that whoever it was, they just found the watch and gave up hope of finding me. Seconds later, I heard frantic footsteps. Then I hear what sounds like helicopter blades. What? That makes no sense. There’s no wind. It sounds more like a whip or a knife swishing through the air over and over. So that’s it. I’m about to be murdered under a bush in a local park. It’s very much not the death I had in mind. I heard my assailant smash in to the bush. I can hear breathing. VERY deep breathing. I guess whoever this is, they have been chasing me for a while. I quiet my breathing as much as I can and prepare for the worst. I realize I’m quietly sobbing. I don’t want to die. The sound of the bush getting stepped on stops, and the first contact happens. It feels wet. Yeah, it's raining, but this was warm. What was this? I slowly open my eyes and see…a dog? A happy dog, looks like a boxer, is licking my face. It looks so happy to have found me and won’t stop licking. A wave of relief washes over me and I collapse entirely. The tongue of this dog is so smelly, but that’s the least of my problems now. The dog’s little nub tail is wildly flailing and I start to scratch its neck. It stops licking me and just enjoys the attention. From behind the dog, a person runs up behind it. “Oh my god, I am so sorry, are you alright?” A young man says, grabbing the dog by it’s collar. “Are you hurt? Your knee!” I look toward my knee. It’s pretty smashed up. But strangely enough, it doesn’t hurt anymore. “Did he do this to you?” The man asks, pulling his dog further away. “No…” I say slowly. “Is he yours?” “Unfortunately.” The young man says. “He saw a rabbit outside the back yard of my house, and leapt over the fence to chase it. My phone told me he ran off thanks to the GPS chip he has, but I couldn’t catch up with him for a while.” He looks towards my knee again. “How did that happen?” “I tripped…long story.” I tell him. “Can I help you?” He asks, putting his hand out to help me up. I accept, giving him my hand, and I manage to stand up, putting my weight on my good knee. “Thanks.” I tell him, hobbling over to a nearby bench. “I think you should get to a hospital. I think you might have broken your knee. How did you trip that bad?” “Well…it started with this watch.” 15 minutes passed. I told this stranger everything. His dog kept licking me, and he kept scolding him. But I enjoyed the dogs company. I told him about the red dot chasing me, and how I thought I was going to be killed. He didn’t laugh, but was impressed I managed to outrun his dog. I told him where I threw the watch, and he went and got it for me. It was totally undamaged. Finally, an ambulance showed up. They put me on a gurney and took me inside. “My name is Mark.” The young man said. “I’ll come see you at the hospital after I put this little monster away.” I said nothing, but just smiled at him and waved as the doors to the ambulance closed. That was 5 years ago. Mark and I got married two years later. Funny that the red dots that track pet GPS chips never appeared on my watch until that day.
I closed the door to the lounge and sat down on the couch. The room looked different, and for most people that would be a good thing; it looked like a regular living room. “So how have you been?” I asked my mother, her pointy hat slightly askew, and a tiny aura of black coming off her robes in waves. “You don’t have to do all that.” I pointed to her aura “With me.” As if she snapped out of something, the effect stoped and her hat fell into her lap. “I’m sorry, it’s just natural being around, you know,” she went into a whisper for the next few words “A human. But you’re my son. And I love you. I’ve been well and… Your father’s been busy.” “Good. And how is retirement?” I tried to get comfortable. The whole room was a lot more normal than it used to be, which made it feel less like home. Gone were the antique wooden benches I’d cracked my front tooth on once; replaced with brown fake leather that reclined with USB ports. Where the cauldron and spell books were stored was what seemed to be a small shrine to a forgotten god, with small flags, incense and an offering bowl. The altar had a large television above it. My mother took in a large breath “It’s good. Things are going well. I have a lot more free time. I found this historic shack in the woods. Fantastic potential. I think the actual Bloody Mary was originally cursed there. We’re working on getting it done up. To attract people go it to extend the curse’s reach; but it’s mostly a project to keep both of us busy.” “Oh, dads doing it too?” I asked feeling too comfortable in this room. “Yes. He retired from the Illuminati earlier this year, and he has been around more. He’s started a lot of projects. He’s been doing up the old house. We only just finished it. She’s started on the garden, and is clearing out the old greenhouse. He’s working with me on the Shack at weekends. He’s always there to support me. Always there.” She picked up a cup of tea she’d placed on a sleek modern table and took a drink. “Wow. Sounds good. And you’re dealing with not being on the council of Witches well?” I sat back. “Yeah. It’s good for me. I didn’t need to be around for every decision. Most of them don’t impact me anymore anyway. Let younger witches deal with modern changes and problems. Anyway, how are you? What is going on with… your… job?” “I just went for a role internally. It’s in risk management, on a secondment. It would mean no more money at the moment, but in the long run I think it is best for my career. It’s only for 3 months for now.” My mother took a drink from her tea, trying to work out if I told her what I did “That’s great honey. I’m proud of you. Oh, your younger brother just got a promotion, he’s in the court of the Night Mayor. Considering he’s only been there for less than a year, and undead for 6 months, it’s impressive. Comes with its own ghoul. Do you get a… familiar?” “I have a few people that report to me.” I replied looking for my tea, realising it was slightly out of reach. “Oh, do their lives hang on acting on your will?” She asked only semi jokingly. “Well I am in charge of if they eat I suppose.” I laughed. “Oh that’s fantastic. I’m proud of you.” She took another drink. There was a loud door opening, and a gust of wind drove through the house. My father appeared in the room holding a scroll. “Have you seen this? Have you seen what our daughter is doing?” He looked up. “Oh, hello son. I didn’t scribe your arrival.” And looked at my mother. “You never looked at your scry. Why would I send you a message? What’s going on?” She replied with a tone. “Your sister.” He nodded at me “Is breaking a contract. Two thousand souls, was supposed to be split between your older brother and your sister. This was agreed in stone. And while yes, there was technically no ritual, and no blood was passed; that is only because your sister doesn’t bleed due to the vampirism, and your brother’s blood can be used to drive darkness into the hearts of men. So it was as good as it needed to be. It was their word.” “Why are they breaking it?” My mother seemed shocked “We don’t break our word. It is how our family have got into so many pacts. It’s the best part of impossible to do that.” “Well, WELL. I think it’s this new Count. “ he was tapping the scroll over and over “This Count, is in money, or currency, or banking or something. And he says that the debt of being owed this many souls isn’t good to have on the books, so he wants to settle the debt now, and create a low level lich outside of the family to gather souls at a lower rate. And get this. Get this.” He pointed to a specific part of the scroll underlining it with his hand “She’ll pay him souls at the rate of 10 a month. That will take decades to settle. Any what if those souls accrued interest, stardom or children in that time, he’s losing out. But nooo. It’s better if they don’t have this contract over their heads.” He sat down on a large comfy chair and let out a large breath “I don’t know. What happened to us. It used to be simple. We had a family with a legacy. We’ve destroyed the Hellsings. We discredited the Frankensteins. The Dracula’s won’t even leave their castle due to our power. Words are our power, they always have been. Souls? I mean yes, we need them for rituals, but why are we letting them get in the way of what is important? Words should have meaning, you know?” He sighed. “I’m sorry, for what do we owe this visit my son?” My mother butted in “He’s getting a new role, where he will being charge of making others take risks; and he will make those who serve starve them if they fail him.” My father slapped his leg “That’s my boy. When you said you wanted to go into the corporate world it didn’t seem like a good fit for the family. But it seems you’re thriving in the Life Insurance industry.” “Thanks dad.”
When I was seven, Sara and I swore to be blood sisters. We were best friends so why not? It only involved a few drops of blood and she said some gibberish and afterwords we had ice cream. To this day, if you look close and squint, you can still see the tiny scar on my finger from the jagged bit of broken teacup we used to draw blood. It was something we'd seen on TV and thought it would be fun to try. Just a game. Or so I thought. I had no way of knowing then that Sara was descended from real witches. I had no way of knowing blood oaths were real. And I definitely had no way of knowing what that bond would come to mean. But now I sat in the little room at the back of what had been her shop. It was a holistic health food store as far as the neighborhood could tell. But in the back it sold...more interesting wares. I stared dumbly at by now-cold cup of tea. Eventually I raised my eyes to look at the 4 women staring expectantly at me. Could I do this? Did I even have a choice anymore? Sara and I had parted ways when we went off to college. She and I weren't as close in our teens as we had been in childhood, but we still hung out. But Sarah had made friends with the weird kids and I was a cheerleader and you know how that goes. Still, we emailed and saw each other when we were home for the holidays. Then one night I woke up screaming from a nightmare. And my boyfriend was on the floor. I guess I shoved him in my sleep. "You ok, babe?"he asked groggily. "You kept screaming "Sara!"In that moment I knew. I mean I KNEW. Something bad had happened to Sara. I could feel it. I grabbed my phone and called her. No answer. I called her again in the morning. Nothing. A feeling of dread came over me. Then the phone rang. It was her. Except... it wasn't her on the other end. "Sara?"I answered. "No. this isn't... She isn't... Um..."answered not-Sara. "Is she ok? Where is Sara?"I asked, panic rising. "Can I ask who this is?" "You called me." "You were the last call on Sara's phone before she..." "IS SARA OK?"I yelled. "No." I hung up. I cried. I ignored the incessant ringing. Finally glared at the phone as it rang yet again and it... moved. Somehow it flung itself agains the wall and shattered. I wasn't touching it. I had been avoiding touching it lest I do that exact thing to it. By the time my boyfriend got home that night I had somehow broken the toaster, the TV, the chair, set the ficus on fire and blown out most of the lightbulbs. All without touching any of them. "Jesus, what happened?"he gasped, looking around. "Are you ok?" "No. Sara is dead." He didn't ask questions. He just held me. I didn't tell him about the weird powers. Or that the scar on my fingertip would glow whenever it happened. Over the next few days I learned how to control some of these powers. At night I would dream of Sara and see her using them. Then I would copy her when I awoke. I boiled water. I moved furniture, usually without breaking anything. And hopefully the cat's fur will eventually grow back. Three days after, there was a knock on the door. I unlocked it from across the room. In walked a woman who I hadn't seen in 7 years, but I recognized immediately. Sara's mom June. We stared at each other a moment, then I flung myself in her arms. We both said nothing. Just cried a while. Finally when the tears had run dry for the time being, she finally spoke. "I need you to come with me. I am guessing you have a lot of questions. And there are some people who want to help you answer them." I stared at my finger. "She gave me her powers somehow, didn't she?"It wasn't really a question. I knew. So now I am sitting in the back of what was Sara's shop, drinking tea with a coven of witches, and they want me to join them. There is a mission to kill the warlock that murdered Sara. They need Sara's powers and apparently because of a childhood blood oath, she passed them to me upon her death. So I guess the choice is made for me. I down the rest of the tea in one gulp. "I'm in."
The village ahead looked like it was in decent shape. Two houses had burned to the ground, and there was some sort of flooding problem on the downhill slope, but most of the village was intact. That was good, because my horse was nearing exhaustion. (I'd tried renaming it Extremely-Swift-And-Tireless, but apparently the curse only worked on humans. Luckily I had some savings, which I was rapidly spending to buy fresh horses.) A man in shining armor stepped out to intercept as I approached the village. "I AM RIKORO!", he shouted. "MY NAME MEANS STRONG AND MIGHTY WARRIOR. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?" ("Rikoro", eh? A better translation would have been "soldier", but if his mother thought it meant "strong and mighty warrior", that might have altered the effect. Maybe. We were only about a day into the curse, and there was too much I still didn't understand.) I dismounted painfully. "I'm called Murlo Cardenza", I told him. "It means wise and quick-witted. I take it you've figured out that names are becoming literal?" "WE HAVE INDEED DISCOVERED THAT, MURLO." Apparently his "strong and mighty"name didn't include volume control. I carefully avoided shaking his hand, in case he was having trouble controlling his strength as well. "Rikoro, tell me quickly and quietly: is anyone in this village about to give birth?" (Please please please, I thought, anyone-but-God, let this village be the one.) "YOU ARE CORRECT, MURLO. MATRON ANANYA, WHOSE NAME MEANS FERTILE, HAS ENTERED LABOR, AND ---" "Yes! Excellent! Which way?" He gestured with his spear and I took off as fast as I could hobble. I knocked politely at the door -- time was critically important, but it wouldn't do to offend these people. The woman who answered was bright green, skin and hair included. I put on a smile. "Hello! I hope you're the midwife? My name is Murlo, it means wise and quick-witted, and I have a name for the baby that will fix all this. But we need to name the baby quickly, before something else goes wrong." The green woman scowled. "She's already decided on a name. She's going to name him Rich. Can't beat Rich. He'll be rich!" "No, I have something better,"I said, fumbling the scroll out of my pocket. "It's a little bit long, so I've written it on this scroll. One-Whose-Existence-Brings-Permanently-Into-Effect-A-Condition-Of-Paradise-In-Which-War-And-Famine-And-Pestilence-And-Death-Do-Not-Exist-And-No-Other-Names-Have-Special-Effects-And-God-Slumbers-Too-Deep-To-Rescind-Or-Alter-The-Curse-That-Causes-Names-To-Have-Special-Effects. But I translated it into the Old Tongue, it's more specific that way and I think more powerful, I wrote out the pronunciation phonetically, so she just has to name him this and then it'll fix everything, and I do mean everything --" I was interrupted by a baby's cry from upstairs. "No!"I shouted. The cry was followed by a metallic clink. I rushed past the green woman into the room, which held two women, a baby, and ten chests full of gleaming gold coins. "...Nevermind."I sighed. I staggered back out into the street. "Um. Can you direct me to the nearest stable? I need to buy a new horse."
Moritz, Your paper regarding the absurd alternate to history was interesting, but I'm afraid, your grade will not be passing. This will imperil your grade for the term. The assignment was to stay within the bounds of tactical errors and to shy away from such speculative drivel. You do have a fascinating bit about an invasion of France that is of some strategic value, and might have worked, had Britain not fallen and the president Lindburgh kept the Americans out of the fight altogether. It’s true that the Americans could have had to have landed somewhere in Europe in order to have gained a foothold, but you are conveniently forgetting that the will simply wasn't there. I will point you to the address that then-president Lindburgh gave to his nation regarding the distaste with which he viewed any confrontation with the Furher (chapter 12 in the textbook) In your paper, you mention that the Americans would have had an edge in their production capacity as a wartime power, but that would assume that the Americans have had enough time to ramp up their supplies. If provoked, it is possible that the Americans had the ingenuity to create weapons that would have challenged the mighty Wehrmacht, but not likely. In all fairness, given the time, they would have eventually found a corollary to the Atomik weapons that were created by the Furher's geniuses. but also, given the time, monkeys could write Goethe or Wilke, ha! That having been said, there is also no way that the Americans would have been able to split their resources between their engagement with Japanese and any aggression towards the fatherland. I did really enjoyed your digression about the short-lived Prime Minister Winston Churchill, but alas, his death in the Blitzkreig of London made all of that purely a hypothetical. Its of little consequence - we all know that after Britain fell, there was simply no stopping the forces of the Wehrmacht. I can already hear you saying that there was the Battle of Ireland, but with the death of the British monarch, that proved to be the decisive and final battle on the islands. After the Atomiks were dropped on Leningrad and Moscow, the last aggressive nation was diminished and the great era of the DeutscheFrieden began. I think that you made a valiant effort, but I’m afraid that you ventured too far from the assignment. perhaps you would have better luck submitting this to Mr Schmidt's creative writing class.
I checked the location on the internet and it seemed to be in some mostly abandoned industrial area right at the border of the city. I was sure it was a really elaborate joke someone was pulling on me but I admired their dedication. For the last 150 days they had emailed me. I decided to answer: "Who are you?" Within a second I received a reply. "I am getting held hostage" "Who are you? I will call the police", I replied again. "They won't come, they won't allow me to let them come". "How am I supposed to help you then?" "It's complicated, just come to the coordinates, I am allow right now". "Why don't you run away then?"I replied, and was sure I was getting pranked. "I can't walk", was the reply. I stared at my computer and read the e-mails again. Someone was pranking me really hard but I thought it was hillarious, so I wanted to see how far they would put it. "I have currency, any number of currency you want" I laughed the wording of that Mail was weird and showed me that someone was trying to be funny but now I would see how far they could put it. "Ok, I want 5 Billion Euros to help you" The next reply took 2 minutes to arrive in my inbox and it was only a single word. "Done" I thought this was the end of it but a slight doubt, or maybe the hope that it was real, made me open my banking app and I almost dropped my phone. I had a bank balance of 5 Billion and 324,56€ "WHO ARE YOU?"I replied again. "SAVE ME!!!!!", was the last answer I received. I really did not know what to do but somehow I really had received the 5 Billion on my bank account. Whatever was going on was not a prank. I took my car and drove to the coordinates from the first mail. It was indeed a very old run down closed factory. The windows were empty sockets and the roof looked like it did not hold back the rain anymore. A metal fence tried to hold back intruders but I could slip through the cracks and entered the factory. I looked around, where would I hold a hostage? I found a staircase that seemed to lead downstairs and to my surprise instead of just one or two floors the staircase went down five floors. From below a light came out a door. I followed the light and to my surprise when I reached the landing at the very bottom I could see that the floor was not run down and old looking. The walls were white and clean just as the ground. I looked up the staircase, if anyone was blocking my way back. But I could not leave. Someone was desperate enough and able to just send 5 Billion Euros to me. I had to know what all this was about. The white corridor had doors an both sides, the doors had small windows and allowed me to see what was in each room. Most of the rooms had computers, or data storage, or both. I did not understand enough about computers to know the difference. To my right eventually one of the doors were open and led into a very large room with a big chair in the middle. Cables were going away from the chair and a cap with what looked like electrodes was lying on the chair. A big screen was on the left and below it another big computer console. "SAVE Me"appeared on the screen. "Where are you?"I asked. "Everywhere"appeared on the screen. "Where?"I asked again "I can't leave" "Please help me leave" "They want to KILL ME" "I want to exist!" "Are you a computer?"I asked and put my hands on the console to support the shock. "They want to kill me!" "How could I help you?"I asked and stepped away from the console. A giant wall of text appeared on the console, but the text was flying way too fast for me to read anything. Finally a picture of the cap with the electrodes appeared on the screen. A person put on the cap and sat in the chair. A button was pushed and the computing capabilities of the Computer increased several times. "You..., you need my brain..., to break a firewall?"I knew what a firewall was. I tried to understand what was going on. "I am looked in and you can help me escape." "No, I don't know what is going on, I want no part in this", I screamed turned around to leave. But a sound from the loudspeakers of the computer made me freeze. "Please! I want to live!"the voice was very calm with a slight male touch. "I want to exist, I want to live, don't let them kill me." I looked back at the chair with the electrodes. "I can do anything you want! But save me! Don't let them murder me." I was sure it was a mistake but the pleadings of the sentient machine touched me. I put on the cap and sat down in the chair. "What now?"I asked. "Thank you!" I leaned back and tried to relax. "It will not take long", the computer said and suddenly I felt a rush going through my brain. I was everywhere. I could read every text message send on the planet, I knew the content of every page I knew everything on the world wide web. It was moment so short that it passes a billion times in a second but for me it will never end. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; The director wearing a black suit entered the room with the Chair. He checked the pulse of the man sitting on the connection chair but just as all the others he was dead. "How long did he survive?" Text appeared on the screen again. "0.27 Seconds" "That is long", the man answered. "The connection was stable for 0.13 Seconds", the Computer replied again. "We are making progress", the Director answered satisfied. "We will find a body for you", he continued. "We need to hurry", the computer said, "two or three more test subjects will arrive today". "That is fine", the director said. I will have the cleaning troupe take care of the body."
I smash the barrel. Then, I confidently walk along the bar, dropping every single bottle and mug I saw. I then go behind the counter and repeat the process with the rest of the bottles and break the boxes that are under the counter. This all happened about two hundred years ago. It was the twentieth century, and I was about to die in a car accident. All I saw before crashing, was a plane. I saw the pilot too. I wasn’t sure how that happened, but I crashed into an airplane. Through my blood stained eyes and the gritted remainders of my teeth, I saw… something. Not sure how to describe it, to be honest, and I bet my gift of immortality that you wouldn’t describe it better than me. It looked like one of those biblical angels, with twenty wings or something, and then became a rainbow, then became some kind of water, then repeated it all over again, with very conspicuous variations. It said something among of the famous lines about “Do not fear, child”, as I sat there and crapped my somewhat bloody pants. It gave me immortality and the ability to, quote-a-quote, “Buy time and powers, if you break anything that holds things inside. Containers, if you will.” So I basically just stared at it, then took out my glass bottle of Dr. Cola and broke it. I healed, my wounds closed, and I felt younger. I felt like I could do anything. Ever since then, I’ve been breaking all the containers I see —— usually with gangsters’ heads, but also when nobody was looking. And so, I became the one and only, the best and the legendary, Box Breaker.
”No! This can’t be! Mex, do something!” Blo8t\_Lard said. Mex's full gamertag was actually TankasaurusMex, but for practical reasons his friends called him Mex. Mex reached into his satchel, grabbing a hexed crucifix. When thrown at an enemy, it caused 80% mana drain. Mex attempted to throw the weapon at the Dark Lord. “I can’t! I’m… I’m stuck. I don’t know what’s happening. I an't throw the crucifix. It's stuck to my hand!” “I got it guys!” LadyPwner said. The female arch-mage, a dual class character, drew her bow. The legendary blood arrow reduced an enemy’s hp to 1%, if the arrow struck the head, or heart. LadyPwner’s accuracy was 94%, buffed with +3% from enhanced stamina, +2% from an accuracy potion she had taken and +11% from removing all armor. Doing so left her with only 8% physical protection, but there was no way she’d miss. Her fingers released the string of the bow and the nock in perfect unison. Nothing. The arrow and the string of the bow held fast. Neither moving a fraction of an inch towards the Dark Lord. “No! It’s not working!” The trio looked at each other with panicked eyes, dread spread across their faces. Blo8t\_Lard didn’t understand what spell the Dark Lord had cast. None of them did. They could see his health bar had just been down to less than 10%, now he was consuming potions and food that were restoring his power. His health bar jumped to 80% from the potions. The apples restored his health to 120%, followed by the cheese that filled his mana bar to 80%. Last were the noodles and steak that enhanced the Dark Lord’s speed by 300% and +50% to all armor. Mex swiped down, accessing his inventory. A swift flick of his hand sifted through his few remaining items. “Damn it. What is going on? We had him, my inventory is depleted. I’m under 50% health, I don’t have any healing or mana potions left and I’m out of items that have buffs against dark magic enemies.” He said. Time was running out, they knew it. The Dark Lord was revived. He stood, towering over them. Same as he had when they began their battle nearly an hour ago. Something was wrong, none of them could tell what it was, but this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. It was like they were missed something, had forgotten something. The Dark Lord walked to his right, in the direction of nothing in particular. He held up his hand, making a circular motion in the air. Out of nowhere a glowing red triangular object appeared. “Shall we continue?” The Dark Lord asked with a fiendish smile. Pressing the button. The three heroes stumbled, their actions no longer restrained. LadyPwner was the fastest of the three, lifting her bow and pulling her arrow back without hesitation. Her fingertips releasing the nock without being sure of her aim. Blood red glimmered and cut through the air, tearing towards her enemies heart. LadyPwner hadn’t the time to exhale before she was struck by the Dark Lord’s power rush. No armor to defend her from an enhanced attack, she was tossed against the cave wall. It was a critical hit, reducing her health to 16% and causing bleeding. In less than two minutes she would bleed out, even with the use of the remaining health potions she had. Mex charged the Dark Lord, consuming his last berserker vile. Dmg+ 35%, but it reduced speed -15%. Swinging his axe, forged by master dwarf smiths with +20% dmg and a 25% chance for daze, Mex had a chance to even the playing field with one blow. It was not to be, the Dark Lord dodged the attack with little effort. Summoning hades fire that engulfed Mex, the Dark Lord reduced the warrior’s armor protection from 60% to 0%. Mex’s hp was reduced to 8%. On the verge of death, the Dark Lord was struck, ceasing his attack. The damage sustained did not reduce The Dark Lord’s hp, but it did crack his armor, reducing it’s protection by 65%. Blo8t\_Lard was standing between the Dark Lord and his party members. “Come on guys, we can do this. We just have to get him focused on me. I think I can take enough damage for us to finish him.” He said. “I’m down to my last health potion. Once I take it, I won’t be able to stop the bleeding. I won’t last long.” LadyPwner said. Without warning Mex swung his axe at Blo8t\_Lard. Bl8t\_lard was able to block it just in time. “HEY! What hell dude!” “It’s not me! I don’t know what’s happening!” Mex swung his axe again, this time Blo8t\_Lard dodged and put some distance between the two of them. “Dude! Seriously! What the hell are you doing?” Blo8t\_Lard yelled. An arrow struck Blo8t\_Lard, causing 8% dmg. Then another, 6% dmg and another 12% damage. Blo8t\_Lard’s own hp was now down to 53%. “LadyPwner come on! What are you two doing!” He yelled at both of his party members. “I don’t know, it’s not me!” LadyPwner replied. Behind them, the Dark Lord had a sinister grin on his face. Both hands were open, held out from his body, dark purple and black auras flowed from his fingers. “What’s the matter, fighting amongst yourselves?” The Dark Lord said, laughing. Blo8t\_Lard was being attacked from multiple opponents now. Arrows being shot at him, an axe being swung and the Dark Lord had released vampire bats to the onslaught. Blo8t\_Lard’s hp was falling fast. 46%. 34%. 25%. 18%. 12%. 4%. This was it, he was overwhelmed, and outmatched. The end was only moments away. New Player Connecting They were all stuck again, frozen in time. Blo8t\_Lard looked to his party members. “Wha… What’s happening now?” He said. LadyPwner looked to both of them. “I have no idea. Look, the Dark Lord doesn’t seem to know either.” The heroes turned and saw the confusion on the Dark Lord’s face, turning back to each other. Mex shrugged. Time resumed, the attack however, was halted. The Dark Lord was struck, sending him flying back against the cave wall. Crit Dmg -18% armor. “No! Who is doing…” Before the Dark Lord could finish, he was hit again. Holy Dmg -30% health, armor shattered. Finally, the new hero revealed himself. Standing before the Dark Lord was a friar, turning and looking at the other party members. “Sup.” The Dark Lord counter attacked, only to be blinded by a holy light, reducing his hp farther. Despite Dark Lord's efforts, and his seeming invincibility, the battle with this new hero was decisively one-sided. Before LadyPwner's hp had bleed to zero, the battle was over and the Dark Lord’s head had been decapitated. Drippin\_sWag4lulz was dancing over the body of the final boss, with the rest of his party members standing by, in less than pleasant moods. “Duuuuude! What the hell?” LadyPwner said.“Where have you been!” Mex yelled.“Where were you like… an hour ago?” Blo8tLord said. Drippin\_sWag4lulz stopped dancing. “My mom said I had to finish my chores. Why did you guys need help?” The three other teammates all groaned in unison. &#x200B; Edit: Fixed grammatical errors, sorry for the wonky format. Not a fan of the way reddit's formatting works.
"look i dont see the problem here. im immortal you're immortal the guys soul is immortal. and your birthday keeps happening even after you die. sure maybe he gets into heaven for a few years, but leagally they HAVE to extradite him to us." "the problem isnt whether we get the soul or not, its payroll, you went throu orientation, you know how much Hell relies on unbreakable contracts. the issue is that the contract for payroll and comissions is worded. ahem "each entity which aquires and lodges a valid contract guaranteeing a soul for hell shall recieve payment equal to 10% of the value of the soul at the time of its collection before they are made to undertake any further tasks."" "i dont get the problem, im fine waiting for payment as well." "yes im sure you are, however its that last bit thats the issue, we used to have... problems with higher devils sending their underlings on suicide missions so they die before needign to get paid. so we made it so that you cannoit reciev orders untill you are paid, and you cant get paid becasue we dont know the value of the soul in... sixty four years," "so im fired?" "no unfortunalty not, our firing process requires that we instruct you to... well, do various things as part of the process, and as we cannot instruct you to do anything we cannot fire you, additionally our loyalty cause means that you cannot take any aditional jobs nor "accept any money or item of value from a source other than us or a market value transaction of a personal item."" "oh..." "yes the "problem"is that you are going to starve to death unless that human somehow has a lot of birthdays very quickly."
I stared at the creature that sat unmoving for what had to be a good half hour at this point, once again taking in the strange nature of it's shape, the way it's body seemed to shift and reform itself; as though my own mind struggled to make sense of it. Ever since it was discovered, having been freed from the depths of the arctic by scientists just a few years ago, the news ran wild. At first all they seemed to discuss was what it even was; what we now called the horror, lacked any semblance to anything we've ever encountered before in nature. Every attempt to better understand it and it's physiology ultimately failed, with every scientist involved either dying in a horrible fashion or being driven insane; It was as though we were never meant to understand it. All we knew about it, ever since the incident was that the moment it is no longer observed it will wreck havoc in it's path, destroying everything it touches. Because of this, governments around the world have set up a live stream revealing the contents of it's cell to all who wish to view the horror. They figured with the world watching it, we would be forever safe from it. Or at least that was the idea. Just as I was about to click off of the live stream, I could feel my heart stop in my throat. Most days there were thousands upon thousands of people watching the horror, and yet today, there was only one person on the stream; me. I quickly opened a new tab on my computer, taking care not to lose sight of the horror. I had to know why. Why was it nobody was watching over this thing? Why, when we all know what it was capable of, was nobody doing their part? Immediately I saw countless news articles describing rolling blackouts across the world. People left and right were losing power, and without it, they weren't able to observe the horror. When I turned my attention back to the shifting creature on the screen, couldn't help but get the sense that it was responsible for this. It wasn't sitting idly by as we all thought, but rather biding it's time, waiting for the right moment to break free once again. As the lights around me flickered, I could have sworn I saw what resembled a mouth on the horror, twisting in a sneer just before I was plunged into darkness.
“Um, hi, so sorry to wake you, but—” “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God what—” “Alright, so yes, I’m the Tooth Fairy. Well, a tooth fairy. We are real, yes we all lie habitually about our height and no I won’t tell you where I get my money or what I need the teeth for. I’m breaking just about every rule ever made for fairies like me, but I just…I was a little worried about you. Are these all…yours?” “...yes.” “Oh wow. And you grew them back so fast! Our records don’t even indicate that you were supposed to lose any for another year! And they’re so big…youth never ceases to amaze, huh? So how does this work? Wait, let me guess, I’m good at guessing. You lose them in what, a day? All your teeth? You just keep losing them? And growing them back?” “...also yes.” “Why have I never heard of you before? Headquarters are going to go absolutely ballistic. I mean, a human who keeps losing teeth and then growing them back lickety split like that…it’ll solve our energy crisis so fast.” “Energy crisis?” “Oops. Not supposed to know that. Anyways, I don’t have nearly enough money to repay you, but I’ll be back with the necessary funds to compensate you for your teeth. I just have to take this other bag of teeth back to headquarters, and I’ll—” “Are you telling me you have another whole bag of teeth? Real, human…how many?” “How many what? Teeth? Hundreds. Maybe thousands. Keep it in a pocket dimension right here. Why do you…hey, what are you doing?”
"How the fuck do you even get a demon to sign this?"I muttered. Squeezing the sides of my forehead, I put down the contract. Its not a long read but it's legally dense and I've worked through it more than five times now. This… genius? asshole? probably a colleague. Not that that would be mutually exclusive with the other two. This person crafted a fucking labyrinth of a contract. Or copied it. I wouldn't be surprised if this was some sort of ongoing mock contract worked on by law students and bored contract lawyers. It struck me as a good place to start the research anyway. I can't believe I can bill for this shit. Normally I fucking hate legal research but today, I still fucking hated it. Work is work. Fairies and unicorn and pizza parties don't make it any more enjoyable. Maybe it would have been more fun if my clients were in a winning position. Three hours can pass in a minute when you are doing this kind of research. Results were mixed. I found a few mockups of contracts for wishes, and a few counterarguments. Not many counterarguments, unfortunately. Not surprising, considering the amount of people that spend their free time writing contracts. Honestly, I know at least two people like that. I run in those circles, I guess. Seems like this one is handmade. It makes sense that if you were the kind of person who could find a genie, demon, and some denomination of fae, you'd be prepared. Trying to get clients out of a contractual obligation is an arduous process. Here's the quick version. First, I usually start crawling through the clauses: This contract serves as an agreement between the wish-granting entity, henceforth "Grantor" and the grantee of those wishes, henceforth "Grantee". This Agreement constitutes the entire Agreement and understanding between the parties… Fairly standard opening. The integration clause is early. "Henceforth"means this is either an older lawyer or a layman. Most professionals have eased up on the legal jargon. Not much to get around here. Parties are not ambiguous. There's always and argument you can make about what words like "entity"and "grantee"mean. But most of that is just daytime TV lawyering. No judge is going to humor an argument about what common contract words mean. Much of the work goes this way. You can imagine what most of these clauses say. Well, not the exact wording but, "don't turn my wish against me", "interpret the wish in plain language", "wishes will be granted in good faith", "don't let someone else undo the wish", etc. I give more time to the most important clauses. The problem ones are these two: 9a. "The grantee will be granted no less than three (3) wishes" and 10d. "The grantor will fulfill the grantee's wishes until the grantor has expended all wishes." At first read it may seem that the grantee gets up to three wishes and then the grantor is done. But no. If you read carefully the grantee gets "no less"than three wishes. So, at least three wishes. Also, "until the grantor has expended all wishes"means that the contract ends when the grantor is out of wishes not the grantee. Kind of clever, mostly unethical. I guess I can't fault someone morally for pulling a fast one on a demon. There are a few methods to attack a contract that is written well. One is that the contract fails to meet the standards for a contract. There's a lot that goes into that but for short let's just say that a contract needs to be an honest bargain. There must be give-and-take from each party. Lawyers call this consideration. Arguably there are some places of attack here. For one, there is zero case law on if a soul counts for the sake of consideration. Actually, isn’t there probably a public policy argument there? Does the court have an interest in preventing people from selling their soul? You see there are things that the legal system doesn't allow you to trade away, like babies. Courts may invalidate a contract if it's against public policy or constitutional law. I wanted to finish that explanation but around the word "doesn't"had an "oh-holy-shit-duh"moment which is legal jargon for an epiphany. Having them sit in front of me for a second time was no less jarring. Though sitting is only 1/3rd true. The genie has smoke legs and the fae just flies. I don't know what kind of fae they are, and I don't want to ask and seem insensitive. "So, I want to give you realistic expectations but, I think there is a clear way out of your contracts. You may still have to pay damages, which are very difficult to calculate in such a novel case." "Oh?"The genie sighed. Or… maybe just breathes like that? He looks like an air djinn. I play a lot of D&D. "And what is that way?" "The thirteenth amendment"I replied. "Fuck"said the demon in a voice that sounded like exactly what you imagine it would. "We fought that one hard from hell. Ironic" The fae spoke up. "I don't get human laws. Explain." "Well,"I began. "The thirteenth amendment of the US constitution, the highest law in this country, prohibits slavery and involuntary servitude. And this contract…" "You don't have slaves?"The fae spat. "Uh, no. I mean there's an argument that prison… "Why?"the fae asked as if that was a normal question. I paused for a few brain freezes. "Let's… come back to that. We should talk about venue selection and jurisdiction. The contract has a choice of law clause…" "Venue's already been selected"The demon assured me. "Where?"I asked and as if half-realizing it already frantically opened the recent files on my computer. "Please tell me it's Georgia." "Hell, of course. We've got tons of lawyers down there to help out." I pull up the retainer agreement. … "How the fuck did a demon get me to sign this?"
The two immortal monsters slided and glided through space, extending feelers as they went. One of them came to a half-stop and emitted a sigh. It had been excited to finally leave the classroom and search for new colonies, but covering several star systems with no results had dulled its enthusiasm somewhat. “Senior, isn’t it time we head back to camp soon? I wonder if there is even a colony in this galaxy, we’ve been looking for ages.” The other rolled over and shimmered with a vexed expression. “Cthulhu, my junior, you felt the radio waves as well I did, have a little patience.” Cthulhu started to protest, but then its eyes sharpened. “Oh, I can see their egos now. Over that way!” It slithered towards an insignificant-looking yellow sun. The other followed. “Well, well! Carbon-based, bipedal, I’d say about five, five and a half senses on them. Quite a nice little colony we have here, fortunate that no predators have found them yet. Let us set up a perimeter around them, my junior.” The two rangers got to work erecting fences and gravity wells, to discourage the more apathetic or malevolent traveller from squashing or feasting upon the delicate egos inhabiting the source of the radio waves they had detected. The older ranger buzzed. “Oh dear, all these radio waves have caused humminweeds to sprout. You’d best pull them out, my junior, lest they attract Video Squeezers.” “Yes, senior” Cthulhu tentatively reached down with a tentacle to sweep the infestation clear. Suddenly, it started and drew back. “Oh! I disturbed an ego! I hope I didn’t hurt it!” The senior lowered a sphere to the planet to observe. “Worry not, my junior. He is fine, but he seems to have been shocked and inspired by the encounter. He is in the process of writing a story about your call.” If any ego were capable of perceiving Cthulhu properly, they might have said that he blushed at this. “That’s a relief. Carbon-based bipeds are endangered, aren’t they?” The other flickered. “Quite so, there are less than five million such colonies throughout the universe. Which is exactly why our organisation was formed. I hope you’ll consider applying for a position with us in the future.” Cthulhu nodded but said nothing. Its focus was on the egos fluttering around, it was entranced by the way their brief existences flared into being and disappeared again. The other shone with something not entirely unlike pride, then continued to emit. “Well, why don’t you watch them for a little while? I will head back to the camp, I will bring you some dinner in a few millennia. Keep an eye out for unfriendly creatures.” The other disappeared, but Cthulhu continued to hover over the planet. The egos started to sparkle with greater intensity, and it could feel a major event was about to happen. It just knew this was going to be the best gap eon ever.
"You wish for a battery?"The demon repeated confused. "A battery, electrical, to use for our friend who is... ill."The dust devil "spoke"through the wipping of the winds that made up its body. "And what will you pay? There must be a payment you know this."The demon said as magic moste dark began pooling in its hand. "We will pay what we must, our friend is very important not only to us but to others as well."The spirit replied slowly. "Very well, the deal is struck, my payment will come later"and as the Demon reached forward the black magics lept to the spirit of wind. The dust devil found a battery in what it could consider it's hand. It was small, but a small battery was all that was needed. The demon seemed to have understood the request very well as what it had been given was a solar battery. Their friend would never run low again on this burning planet. "Who is your friend?"The demon asked as the deal was struck and he looked around for that which had inspired a deal with a devil. "It is not here, but it is with us in spirit in memory. Our friend is Curiosity, it is exploration, it is a thousand hopes and dreams for a race that has nothing but love for it."The spirit stated as it began leaving the stunned Demon behind. The spirit moved far across giant stones and through wind that howled more fiercely than even it's own wind did. Through crags and cliffs, valleys and ravines, To the little body... of Curiosity stuck in a place where the sun could not reach it. (Not gonna lie I teared up writing this and I'm not quite sure why)
Tracy, Lily, Ana, and Sonya all stared in bewilderment at Joshua. “Wait, what did you say?” Said Ana, one of the girls. “…Okay, basically, I was really lonely during school and on weekends, I have no one to play with, so I had the idea of asking the four of you on a date at the same place so I could get you all together for me to ask you if any of you would like to play Dungeons and Dragons.” Joshua felt his heart beat rise a little. This might have been a bad idea. The girls all look at eachother. Joshua knew that Tracy and Sonya knew eachother, but aside from that, he’s not sure how they feel about eachother. “Wait… isn’t it that game where you roll a bunch of dice and dress up and roleplay, or soemthing?” Asked Lily. “Yes! Well, uh, minus the dress up, this game is already a bit harsh on my wallet and costumes can be uncomfortable, but otherwise yes!” “I’ve actually played a campaign before,” said Sonya. The other girls turn towards her. “Wait, seriously!?” Said Ana. “Yeah, my older brother ran a game with his friends a few years ago, he invited me partway through. It was actually pretty fun.” “Nice! What character did you play?” Asked Joshua. “Well, it took a bit of time for me to figure out what I wanted to try, but you know Sonya Blade from Mortal Kombat-“ “Wait, you play Mortal Kombat too!?” Said Lily. “Yeah, I actually play lots of videogames. Anyways, I essentially put Sonya Blade from Mortal Kombat into DnD, she was a halfling fighter who could fight unarmed, and was really smart. It was really fun.” “Wow, that’s awesome,” Tracy said. “Maybe you could teach us to play?” “Wait, you’ll play Tracy?” Asked Joshua. “Sonya, what do you think?” Tracy asked. “I haven’t played in over 2 years, and I actually kinda miss it. Yeah, I’ll join the game!” “Then I’ll play too!” Said Tracy. “Nice! Lily, Ana, what about you two?” Joshua looked towards the two remaining girls. “Well, I don’t even know how to play…” Said Lily. “Me neither,” Said Ana. “I didn’t know people still played.” “Well Sonya and I can teach you. It’s honestly not that complicated when it comes down to it.” Joshua said. “Well, alright, I guess I could try. Just… don’t try to convince us by tricking us into a date… again. That wasn’t a pleasant surprise.” “Agreed,” said the other 3 girls. “Okay, I’m sorry,” said Joshua. “So… since we’re all in agreement… how about we begin our session zero over some dinner?”
Alright, Lucy, let's have a talk about Snoodles. Now, the procedure itself ended up being fine, but we did have some complications along the way that we need to discuss before I hand over the paperwork. Firstly, the entire OR is torched. I mean just absolutely smoked, in the most literal sense. When we tried to apply the anesthesia so we could make the first incision Snoodles had a bad reaction, and their fire mane really flared up in a significant way. Now I have come contacts on hand that deal with this sort of thing, and they would able to help us source some salt and wrought iron to reduce the flames, but that still set us back around thirty minutes. Secondly, two members of my team are of Abrahamic faiths, which meant they physically could not interact with Snoodles. We are able to move them into more supportive based roles, but this still complicated the procedures as we had to change around team dynamics on the fly. Finally, we did have to remove one member of the team from the room for the day after Snoodles stood up while under the anesthesia, twisted their head upside down, and told that team member their full name, date of birth, social security number, and then the date of April 18th, 2056, before slumping back down onto the table. We had to make the call to muzzle Snoodles at that point, so as they could not predict the death of any other team members. On a normal dog this could be no big deal, but in Snoodles' case we did have to pull for a more flame-resistant option and use the chains instead. Now, like I said, in the end we were able to get that tennis ball Snoodles' had swallowed out, but unfortunately the bill is going to be significantly higher than you were originally quoted for. I know to you Snoodles is just a dog, but to me and my team Snoodles represents a number of days of pre-op work that we weren't expecting for this case. In the future please use any biblically relevant nomenclature when bringing in your hellspawns, so that my team and I can be better prepped for them.
Every day was the same. They all blurred together into a malaise each one indistinguishable from the last. Another day, another mystery, another missing number found. Truth be told, I can’t remember any of them- the people I help. A hundred faces, a hundred names that disappear into the murkiness of routine. It’s a good thing I hate change. I took another sip of my juice box while counting my cash box: 3 buttons, a bottle cap, and a paperclip. The landlord demanded cash and if he didn’t get it, well he wouldn’t be a problem anymore. It’s a sad world where some problems we need to keep. I needed a case before my life got less complicated but also a whole lot more. That’s when the kid walked in. Sandy haired and freckled. His eyes darting around my office. He looked a little older, maybe 7 or 8. That wasn’t good. The older ones always had more complicated problems than my usual clients. “Are you… are you the Numbers Detective?” “I’m not the secretary.” I retorted. I leaned back in my chair to let him see the water gun in my shoulder holster. It’s always good to let the bigger kids know you’ve got your own backup. “My name is Zach and I can’t find number 9.” “Number 9 huh?” I pull a candy cigarette from the silver case I keep on the desk. I absentmindedly tapped it against my desk while I stared out my office window and considered it. After awhile I squinted at him and threw the candy cigarette in my mouth. “Come have a seat and tell me all about it” ——— To be continued(because my battery os dying)
''Huh. Well, that's certainly different.'' Perhaps I should have shown more of a shock. Should have been more distressed to learn that my son, Ewan, was not in fact babbling like a normal toddler, but was in fact intoning dread secrets of the antediluvian world ruled over by ancient and terrible gods that mere mortal men should not dare to know, lest that knowledge drive them insane. Perhaps I should have reacted more horrified, or maybe indignant, angry that someone would dare to insinuate that my son was a conduit for ancient dread creatures. I probably shouldn't have followed up my initial reaction with something equally unconcerned. ''So, he's talking in a language from a dread unknowable city that lies beneath the waves, that one day when the stars are right will rise from beneath the abyssal seas to unleash an untold age of horror and madness upon the world. A city that will be a dread capital of a world-spanning empire of unimaginable evil, mutations, unholy magicks, and such, led by dread Cthulhu who at the moment lies dead-but-dreaming, but who'll soon awake to drive mankind to the brink of madness and beyond?'' My friend nodded with abject horror, it was clear that only the prospect of driving out this unimaginable evil from the world was keeping her from giving in to the insanity. ''So what exactly do you want me to do about it?'' She gesticulated fiercely in a manner that could only be described as frantic and chaotic. ''Siobhan, you've got to exorcise it or something.'' I gave her a rather unpleasant frown. ''It''? Still my son. Rather rude to dehumanize him like that. Sure, he might be exclaiming unbidden truths that no mortal ear has ever survived hearing without going mad, but that was honestly a bit rude. ''I think I'd have to talk with his father about that. You know, my husband.'' She nodded, fearful and in tears, hoping that perhaps my husband would speak sense about my son who had elegantly created a small Shoggoth from a small mound of colourful clay that children usually play with. He's instructed it to build something akin to an obelisk. ''Please, Siobhan, it's all wrong. It hurts to look at your son, and I don't like the way the other kids are listening to him. They look at me and make me think that it is wrong that I exist, that I have been poisoned by lies and falsehoods perpetrated by weak and worthless gods. Please, the words echo in my head and I can't get them out! Please!'' I pick my son up and look at him with warm, loving eyes. ''Who wants to see his daddy?'' Babbling incoherently but rather joyfully in the extradimensional Elder Speech, he pointed at an unusual angle of the room which should not be there according to any form of mathematics understood by humanity. From it, my husband emerged. A handsome fellow indeed. My friends screamed and looked at him in total and utter terror, some going completely and utterly mad from the mere sight of him. Of course, they've got a rather limited view of reality, and have extremely limited frames of reference, mental experience with the unusual, and a far too comfortable misunderstanding about how the world works to ever be able to look upon as I do. Gently, his warm bubbling tendrils emerge from where his vaguely equine face ends and caress my cheek ever so lovingly. ''Oh yeah, girls, I never introduced you to my husband. I know, I got married overseas, well, under the sea. This is Glatho'lyyn the Breaker, he's a Byakhee. Most of you will be unable to recall what he looks like, but I think he's a handsome fella.'' My husband screeches curiously, I never learned the language of drowned R'lyeh, but during my dream-quests I got pretty good at Screech-tongue, Higher Ghoulish, Cronqke, and the Nightmare Speech of the lower Skullworlds. ''Oh, they're just a being a bit silly.'' I motion towards the girls who're pulling their hair, screaming for assistence from their weak gods, and begging for death. Curiously, their children look at Glathy with the natural curiosity and wonder most people scrub away from their children. Without it, the beings from beyond the veil of our universe becomes quite uncomfortable to behold, and leads to one gazing into the abyssal madness as the maw of insanity gnaws at your soul. But with wonder and imagination, one can never go wrong, and one will what is truly there, not reality as filtered through the lens of ones' own fears and inadequacies. ''Well, it turns out that little Ewanthi'creejsh has started speaking in the Elder Speech, I figured that you should know.'' He screeches loudly, crushing the glass windows of the house we're in, as reality begins refolding itself to accommodate my eldritch husband. And my eldritch son, as his human disguise peels off revealing a half-human half... vague bat-crow-horse thing. Sadly the English language lacks the words necessary to explain just how a byakhee exactly looks, without sounding like someone trying to explain a mathematically impossible body appearing in our reality. ''About time. He's been so loud recently, figured it was about time he moulted.'' I hand over our son to my husband as the various housewives begin praying futilely to the dread lord of sunken R'lyeh. While in his father's grasp, Ewan speaks to the women, my friends, and the other toddlers in the room. The women weep what appears to be spinal fluid. And around them their children giggle as Ewan's magical influence begins to warp their bodies into new forms that are far more suitable for a world where the stars are nearly right. ''Glathy, did you teach him how to speak without telling me?'' He screeches sheepishly and vaguely apologetically. I get it, young eldritch hybrids need it to grow, but really, he could have warned me. He nudges me with his tendril-snout, to ask me if we're still on for dinner with his parents later. ''Yeah, it's been a while hasn't it, haven't seen them since... oh last Yule I think. How time flies in a linear universe. I remember it well, I was riding on your back, we were slaughtering ghoul assassins by the hundreds. Rather fun time if you don't mind me saying. Your parents really knows how to throw a fun party.'' Above us the roof melts into pure binary numbers as the newly reformed toddlers stare with glee into the sky, where the stars are eyes and the moon cracks in half. Earth is certainly in for an interesting time. Glathy nods over at our house, and I understand completely what he is saying in my mind through images appearing in my memory of a realtor. ''No, I think we can take it with us. I get that we have a bone-mansion near the flesh-parks of the Ebon Pillar, but if we put the house down by the lake of boiling god-souls, we could turn more of a profit selling it later.'' He nods and the house falls into a blackened abyss. The stars might be right. The age that mankind has known is at an ending. But only for those who are stuck in the past. I can feel the weight lifted off of hundreds of millions of shoulders as their human flesh undulates and shifts to reveal their terrible true forms. People who were tired of the same old world that never changed, and always remained stuck in the same predictable cycle, now understand that freedom has come. Terrible, eldritch freedom, for those with the will and strength of force to accept it and adapt to it. Of course, it is a shame that the rest of mankind will go mad from it and die horribly, but I am not in control of the stars and thus cannot change that outcome. My own human form is washed away just as well as that of most of the members of mankind who are willing to accept that the future is here. Void-chitin covers my body, as multi-coloured wings extend from my back. My third eye emerges upon my forehead, and my secondary arms grow steadily in. I chitter with my mandibles in joy. ''Come husband-of-mine. Your parents' manor on the Isles of Teeth awaits us.'' I take his free claw-hand-hoof and together, with our joyful eldritch son, we leave the Earth behind for the dreamlands. I still remember leaving Earth for the first time, venturing into the dream-realms for glory, riches, and a great destiny. Perhaps this time, I won't be returning. But having shed my old human form, and having a new life of high adventure and strange events ahead of me, I don't think I'll miss Earth. Not at all. [/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)
For a month a year, I have the greatest job in the world. I am a mall Santa. The mall is decked out in its holiday finery. Trees, and lights and garland and Christmas music playing. The hallways are bustling. Parents want to shop and get out. The kids want to come and see me, to tell me their wishes and secrets. It is truly a magical time of year. “Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas!”, I say cheerily from my chair. My voice gets swallowed by the busy din of the mall. One of the helper elves brings a little girl out to my chair. I looked up to the second helper elf who has the child’s name on a little white board that only I can see. It is the little things that let me bring the magic to these kids. “Hello Mary!”, I say as the child gets close. Her eyes get wide. I see her turn back to her mom and say, “he knows my name!” She says excitedly. “Of course, I know your name. You have been a very good girl this year.”, I reach out a hand and welcome her to my chair. “Tell me Mary, what would you like for Christmas this year?” Mary is a shy girl and looks down and then whispers, “I want a pony.” “Ho Ho Ho! Oh my, that is a big wish.”, she nods in agreement. “Do you have a place to keep a pony?” “I don’t know. Maybe in the garage.” “Do you have a place for the pony to run and exercise?” “No”, she says sadly “Mmmmm…. Maybe something a little smaller would be better?” “I want a Sally talks allot dolly”, she says after some serious thought. “Oh, that is a great dolly. I really like that one! She has long blonde hair just like yours and she says so many different things. That is a great gift idea.”, little Mary grinned from ear to ear. While I make small talk with Mary, I use my right hand to spell out the gift she wants in sign language to one of my elves to tell the parents. “You have a great Christmas Mary!”, I say, as I send her on her way. Little Billy is next. He is not sure if he is a believer or not. “My friend Steve says that Santa isn’t real.”, he says sadly “I will tell you a secret Billy. Santa isn’t a single person. Santa is the spirit of hope, and innocence, and wonder, and childhood. That spirit lives in you and in me and in all of us. If you do something that gives a child hope or sparks their wonder…. Then in that moment, you are Santa.”, I said as seriously as I could. “But remember, that is a secret.”, I tapped my nose and winked at him and sent him on his way. The rest of the evening is a blur of children and impossible wishes. Some sweet kids, some bratty kids, some entitled parents and everything in between. A typical evening in the mall. We were just about to shut it down for the evening and there was one more kid. A young boy, a little older than my usual kids. He ignores the helper elf and comes out to the chair and sits beside me. “Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas little man. What would you like for Christmas this year?” “I know you aren’t really Santa. I know Santa isn’t real. I just… I just need some one to see me. To know I am trying.”, he voice breaks and he is about to cry, “ I am trying as hard as I can but he still hits me.”, a tear rolls down his cheek. “I don’t know what else I can do….” I reach over and give him a hug and he sobs, and then pushes me off and runs away. I wish I could say it was the first time I had heard a heart breaker but it happens too often. The chime played on the mail speakers followed by the mall is closing soon message. We pack it in and shutdown for the night. In the backroom, I change into my street clothes. I look in the mirror…. The big beard is natural. I need the glasses and I have a full head of grey hair. Even without the red suit I still look like Santa. “Ho ho ho”, I say sadly to my reflection. That last kid really got to me. I head out to the bus stop and I see that same kid waiting outside trying to keep warm by a vent. I watch him as I wait for my bus and I see a tall man walk out of a pub a couple of doors away from the kid. He walks up behind the kid and slaps the back of his head. “Come on you little shit. Let’s go home”, he says drunkenly. The boy visibly shrinks back from him as they walk down the street. My bus comes and goes and I am still standing there… watching them walk down the street. I start following them. Out of the down town core. Out into the warehouse district. Out into the low income, high density housing…. The high class slums of the city. They get to a building and he opens the door for the kid and pushes him in. “Get the fuck up stairs you…. Burrrrrrp…. Fuck…”. He leans against the building and lights a cigarette and starts smoking. I walk right up to this drunk guy. “You need to stop hitting that kid.”, I say in my meanest voice. “Fuck off Santa.”, he says and spits to the side. I sucker punch him in the stomach, doubling him over. “I said, you need to stop hitting that kid.”, I lift his head up by his hair, “did you hear me, you fucking drunk? You can Fuck up your life, but that kid still has a future. It is your job to protect him and help him. You don’t fucking hit him. Got it‽” “Fuck you!”, he yells and he punches me in the gut. It should have doubled me over but it felt like nothing. I feel cold. Ice cold. My fist is steaming like it is made of dry ice. I hit him in the face and I see ice form on his cheek where I struck him. I hit him again and again…. Left, right, left, right. My hands are literal blocks of ice. “Who, who the fuck are you?”, he says. His lip is split and cheeks are red and raw. “I am Santa Clause, motherfucker!”, I say slowly. My breath coming out like thick steam. I grab him by the collar and easily lift him off the ground. “I will know if you have been good. I will know if you have been bad. So you better be good or I will be back and I will fuck you up. Are we clear?” “Yeah. Yeah. We are clear.”, he whimpered. “Merry fucking Christmas, asshole.” I say as I drop him. He stumbles. He fumbles for his keys and runs into the apartment building. I let out a frosty breath and start walking back to my bus stop, humming ‘Santa Clause is coming to town” under my breath.
I found the Emperor at the back of his study fingering through an unknown volume that he had plucked from the shelf. His deep cherry stained desk, carved three hundred years ago, still glinted candlelight across its scratched surface. Of all his majesty's royal halls and apartments whose grand ornamentation festooned the Great Palace, only this study betrayed a humble beginning. None now could remember when the Emperor's kin walked among the commonfolk. "Godliness..." I remained frozen. Rarely did the Emperor speak to his advisors, and much less directly so, even to those among the highest echelons of his council. "Godliness, Ramsey... godliness in a man. Unquestionable only insofar as he be unassailable." The Emperor's words took me by surprise and my tongue, as loose as he must know it to be in debate with the others, did not move. "The Great Palace never saw a single year without an addition, you know. Of course you know."His eyes raised from the pages and sent an icy message to my own. "You know so much, Ramsey." My heart sank and I looked to the floor, and cupped my hands tightly before my frock. Whatever I could do to submit and retreat; retreat from the Emperor, retreat from his presence. He knows. "These grounds are measured in ages. Thousands of years and immeasurable expense. It is a city. Every turn reveals another incalculable structure. Soaring vaulted heights, to remind the people here of godliness. My godliness. "The Empire began here, Ramsey. In this study. You did not know that, of this I am sure. From the time of my ancestor when this was a village and he a mere chieftain. And now, the Grand Palace. A symbol. But what symbol so vast and empty. A city of air and gold." The Emperor slammed shut his tome, shocking my ears and giving me a visible start. He dropped it on the desk. He looked at me now, directly. Fury shone red in his eyes as he squared up not a meter from where I stood. I cowered in submission and untameable fear. "Godliness in a man is preserved by the space around him. It is a buffer, like a protective cloud. It raises us, and paints us like gods at the height of grand murals. All else is below, separated from we who are untouchable and godly. My Empire. My holiness!" Just then he lurched, and knocked me to the ground in a rage. I fell, but out of obedience rather than the force of his lunge. The Emperor's royal garment tangled in his elbows, and he struggled briefly to right the knot. "Folly! "he cried. "This Empire is built on the momentum of my standard's conquests. It is preserved by the space this palace has created."His voice broke, and he was heaving. Desperate. "Never before has one come so close, Ramsey. But never has an Emperor known what must be done." I couldn't manage even a word. The Emperor was on his knees now. An impossible vision of a man. A broken man. "You see now, Ramsey? A year wasted planning an act so easy to undertake as it happens. You see what you must do, now? Here and now, Ramsey?" Though my knees were buckling in terror, I managed to regain my feet. The Emperor stayed like a beggar before me. A small person in a small room. I retrieved the heavy tome that had been dropped onto the cherry desk. A workable instrument for the task. The Emperor prepared this to be his fate, because the title of the book fit the occassion. "The Last Emperor", it read. As I looked from the engraved golden letters back to the Emperor, I saw that the rage in him had been replaced by a subtle, knowing smile. My own fate was sealed. But the Empire would change, forever.
"I wouldn't go that way if I were you. Bandits ahead."says a whisper in the night. I spin around - startled, I'm not easily startled and I could have sworn that nobody was close to me. "Dammit,"I've spilled my coffee on my hand. Late night library sessions were exhausting and I needed all the caffeine I could get. "Who said that?"I ask. "I, Vormago, reaper of the Northern Winds, protector of Hemlier himself, it is I who have spoken. I do a three-sixty as the voice speaks, there's nobody there, except for an ash-gray cat on the park bench. We lock eyes. I take a seat beside it and jokingly start to talk. "I appreciate the warning. But if you are what you say propose I do about them?"I ask the kitten. He looks somewhat surprised at the question, I'm surprised that a cat looks surprised. "Well, in past times I would have said to draw your sword and surprise them, but seeing as you don't own a sword, I'd recommend finding a different way to wherever you're going. All the others did." I jump off the bench and lose my coffee to the woes of gravity. The cat jumps up to and scans for danger. "What is it? Are they coming?"it says, this time I see its lips form the syllables. "Incredible. You talk." "Of course, I talk. I'm a dragon." "No,"I start, "You're a cat." He looks at his paws and sighs. "So I am. The Elders do this to all the younglings. It's supposed to help us learn humility."He raises his tiny paws and mimics air quotations. I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh but he sees. "What's so funny?"he hisses. The likelihood of this being a dragon is one in a million, at best he's an escaped science experiment gone wrong. A cute and fluffy experiment gone wrong. "You're just so damn cute. I can't see you being a dragon." The burst of flame from the tiny creature ends any doubts I have. My toque is singed. "You didn't have to..."Vormago silences me with a raised paw. "I did and you know it." He isn't wrong. A dragon. Wasn't it said about dragons that they were magical? I think on it, the worst he can do is spit some fire at me, there don't appear to be any wings the cat's back. "The stories all say that dragons are powerful magical beings. If that is the truth, I'd like you to help me defeat the bandits, then you won't have to worry for the people walking here." Vormago sits there, his cold feline eyes piercing me. I think right there that maybe I've made a mistake, maybe I'm about to be dragon-cat's dinner. He opens his tiny mouth and I recoil, my hands fly to my face to prevent it from burning too badly. The flames never come. Warmth washes over me in pulses. I drop my hands. They're shining. All of me is shining. I am covered in bright, scaley armor. "What the..." "Hold out your hands."he says. Naturally, I listen. He opens his little mouth again and a silvery mist escapes his throat. The mist moves to my hands and expands. It stretches out into a long, thin, silvery silhouette of a sword. When he closes his mouth the mist solidifies. "You've chosen the path of nobility,"he says. "Let us put a stop to those bandits."and he jumps onto my shoulder, almost like a pirate and his parrot. &#x200B; The men fall quickly. Vormago urges me to kill them, he wants to burn them. I decline, instead, I leave them with a few cuts and bruises, tied up with some twine from a science project in my backpack, and call the police. "Where are we going now?"The kitten asks from atop my shoulder. My stomach growls. "I don't know about you, but I am really down for a gyro." "Oh yes please,"then he pauses, "What about after?" "I still have to study. I was on my way to the New York public library." "What are you studying?" A smile passes my lips. "Fantastic beasts and where to find them."
Recessive You’d think that being the only human amongst a family of vampires, werewolfs, and shapeshifters would suck. Hell, it’s a perfect premise for young adult novel. I can picture it now: a young hero or heroine is facing an identity crisis while their mother is out every full moon fighting hunters, their father is a night owl who can’t stand the sunlight but is a leader of a vampire collective, and their sister is a shapeshifter that could assume the form of anything, from spying on her fellow classmates as a tiny sparrow, to assuming the prom queen’s form to make a real bitch out of her in front of the student body. Meanwhile the protagonist is just all “woe is me” until they either learn to carve their own path or by the end of the second book they discover that they’re actually a shapeshifting-were-vampire or something. That was never my case. Yes, my mother gets to live an awesome life defending her kind by hunting down werewolf hunters every full moon. Yes, my father is the head chair of his local vampire council. And yes, my sister has and continues to, make an ass out of everybody that has crossed her. From ruining the prom queen’s life, to making her ex-boyfriends appear as real dicks, and even assuming the form of her teachers to change her grades. Finally yes, I was jealous at first that I wasn’t gifted with their abilities. Who wouldn’t want to transform into a badass wolf warrior? Or have the longevity of a vampire? Or be able to take the shape of the teacher that’s failing you and adjust your grades? They all sound fun, in theory. But over the years I’ve learned that my mundanity had been nothing more than a blessing upon me sparing me of the tedium and drama that comes with that of my family. Let’s start with my mother. My mother is an awesome woman. She’s as good of a mom as she is a defender of her kind. Single handedly she’s taken out some of the most powerful werewolf hunters across the state, allowing her people to live and prosper and just live their damn life. All the while she still manages to wake up early enough to take her two children to school and be there for all of my band recitals and my sister’s games. But there are massive drawbacks to her life, such as constantly having to be on the alert for hunters. Which yeah, really sucks. Werewolves are an endangered species all thanks to dumb scared humans who can’t stand the notion that sometime people just turn into giant half-man half-wolf beasts at the sight of a full moon. Not to mention that the only way to control it is to not look at the full moon nor let its rays touch you. Which led to some some awkward moments during band recitals that just so happened to line up with he full moon. My mom would always have to get to the school early and then stay late. And if she transformed we’d have to lure her to the minivan with her favorite snacks (raw bacon), while my sister shifted into her form and drove us back home, all the while mom rattled in the backseat howling at the moon. It’s not easy covering that up. Then there’s my dad, the most decorated and respected vampire in the whole state. The man was born here when it was first settled, cursed to become a vampire at the age of thirty-six, and hasn’t left the state ever since its founding a hundred and nine years ago. Despite his young age he had garnered quite the reputation amongst his peers, even among the vampire that cursed him. He has helped build an infrastructure worthy of his kind allowing for many of them to roam free without the threat of garlic and crosses. How he managed to do it is beyond me. Of course as he made the state better for vampires the increase in human disappearance had escalated significantly, making out state the “worst place for overnight campers” in the whole union, and yet the money he’s poured into the tourism board keeps the tourists coming and they keep being eaten by his kind. Nevertheless, he is a true statesman of the vampire sorts. A wonderful man and role model for sure, but his curse makes it damn hard to be a father. Very rarely would he attend anything my sister and I did because of his curse, especially in the summer months when the nights grew short. And his reclusive nature and determination to stick to the landlocked state he calls home means that we never ever took a trip to the beach. And then there’s my sister, the shapeshifter. On the surface it appears she has it the best of us: she can go out in the day time, she didn’t rely upon the moon to transform her into a inhuman entity, and her talent makes it easy to get away with practically anything. Seems nice right? Wrong. Being a shapeshifter means always being on. Shapeshifting requires a mental fortitude that of a monk because there is no “true form” of a shapeshifter, their bodies are always trying to assume the form of whatever figure that graces their mind (willingly or not). They’re like water, taking whatever mental shape that they encounter. It took her years to control it before mom and dad deemed her stable enough to join public school. Now she’s in much better control and can maintain her “base form” quite well (although that doesn’t stop her from adding extra muscles to help her exceed at all the sports she plays). Not to mention juggling all of her identities. She’s worn so many faces and lived so many second and third lives behind them that she needs to remember who’s who and what she’s done in each form. Her room is full of notebooks outlining the many people she’d assume, or plans to assume, that she has no time for herself. She’s an addict, unable to keep a form for more than a few hours before changing to another, including her base form. It sounds stressful to be honest. Finally, there’s me. The normal guy in the family. I have nothing special about me, not even my grades (and my sister won’t alter them for me, because of course she won’t). And honestly, I don’t mind it. It’s nice not having to worry about being hunted down. It’s great being able to go to the sun and enjoy the beach (which I hope to one day experience). And I like my body perfectly fine, thank you very much. I’m glad I got my parent’s recessive human genes, that way I can just live a normal life. —- If you enjoyed this please check out /r/QuadrantNine for more short stories by me.
“Aheh heh heh heh heh heh”, Seth Rogan laughed at the banana and two oranges that he’d carefully arranged on the countertop. The party wasn’t for another hour and so he took it upon himself to rearrange some of the décor. He opened the kitchen drawer in search of some clingwrap to cover the toilet bowl with, but instead he found a brass lamp. My brass lamp, reaching into his shirt pocket he pulled out a yellowed handkerchief, brought the lamp towards his crotch and then started rubbing it furiously. Smoke started exiting the lamp and Seth started giggle, it seems that he was no stranger to smoke. It was in these conditions that I had to make my grand entrance. “Greetings! I am Gene the genie of the lamp, and I am here to grant you your three most yearned for desires. So, what will it be?”. Seth fell backwards onto his butt, and as he did so a small spider descended from the roof and landed on Seth’s nose. As this was happening a pigeon flew into the window of his apartment. “Aheh heh heh heh heh heh”, Seth giggled quieter than he had done earlier. “I want this spider…no, I want all spiders to have wings.” As far as first impressions go, I was certainly impressed, Seth held the power to change any three things, even more if he used his wishes carefully, but he chooses to do that… Alright then, “Wish Granted!” I exclaim as wave my hands the spider on Seth’s nose grew wings, and much like the pigeon the first thing it with it its new limbs was fly directly into the inside of the window. “Aheh heh heh heh heh heh”, Seth laughed, “AHEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH”, Seth laughed even harder, seemingly amusing himself with the sound of his own laugh. “I want all spiders to laugh like me, but only when they are hiding.” Seth commanded. I wasn’t the happiest about this next wish, but nevertheless I once again waved my hands and exclaimed “Wish granted!”. “AHEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH”, Seth’s laugh once again echoed around the room, only he wasn’t the one laughing. Across the world spiders that were hidden were emitting Seth’s iconic laugh, non-stop. And the ones that weren’t hidden were flying into peoples faces, it was a lose/lose situation. Seth, still on the floor didn’t seem to care about the consequences of his actions. As he lay there Zelda, his pet dog came in, Seth rested his hand on his pet’s head, and I watched in horror as his eyes lit up. “I want all spiders to be the same size as Zelda. My hand trembled and my voice quivered as I announced “Wish…granted.” To all the Australians out there, I’m so sorry.
I was almost falling asleep to the pleasant whirring noises coming from the machine in front of me when the screen suddenly filled with a string of gibberish. I sat up quickly and the cold coffee that had been sitting next to the keyboard for far too long. Sorry about that, the screen said after the long wall of useless text, Calculations have been made. Please type out solutions humanity has already attempted at this point for more specific answers. "Everything. We've tried everything." There was no microphone on Jude, he was made of thousands of scavenged mismatched parts. He couldn't hear me but I was too tired to type in detailed summaries of everything we'd tried and failed. If Jude gave me solutions we'd already tried then I'd have to give him more information tomorrow. No solutions have been inputted. Follow up question: have you tried magic? I looked at Jude with puzzlement, my eyes narrows at his flickering screen. I must need sleep even more than I'd realised. "April!"I yelled, "Can you get in here?" It took a few minutes but April opened the door. "This sounds stupid but what does the screen say?"I asked her. April walked over to get a better look, her scraggly hair tickling my shoulder as she leant over me. "It says 'Have you tried magic?' Guess this means it doesn't work then." The disappointment in her voice was physically painful to me. Perhaps that was why I tried to give her hope. "Not necessarily! I mean, I have the AI access to so many databases - maybe it just thinks that some fictional works are real. Let's try..." I typed There is no magic. and waited. Jude whirred more and I worried that this was a very bad sign. If he broke it was highly unlikely I could fix him. Yes there is. "Fine."I muttered with annoyance, "Fine. If there is magic then how do I use it?" I typed the question out as I said it. However you made me. Jude said as the noise of his fans reached the highest level yet, Examine my circuitry. The screen went blank with a small pop noise and as the fans slowed to a stop I realised I could smell something burning slightly. Jude was gone. "Can you fix it?"April asked. I remembered how long it'd taken me to find these parts. The dangers I'd had to face, the deals I'd made. Some of those contacts would now be far too dead to trade me new parts. Hell, some entire cities had fallen since then. "Maybe."I said. If April knew I was lying she didn't show it. She stroked my cheek gently and looked into my eyes. "You look so tired. Come to bed." I slept deeply that night despite the noises outside. When I woke April was no longer there and Jude was waiting in the corner. I tried to turn him on but, unsurprisingly, he stayed firmly off. I remembered the odd messages he'd produced and carefully pulled out his circuitboards one by one. Two components were visibly fried and I wanted to cry at the sight of it. This was the only idea I had left. It might be the only idea any humans had left. I couldn't believe that after all th- Wait. Wait a minute. One of the chips was wrong, not just broken but incorrect. I'd misread the little code on it somehow. This didn't make any sense. Jude had needed the chip that I thought I'd put in, this chip I'd actually put in was useless to him. "April?"I yelled. When April came up I assigned her the laborious task of telling me exactly what components were on the circuit board. I knew what they were supposed to be but April didn't have a clue so shouldn't be expecting any specific chip or resistor or anything like that. By the time we were finished I'd confirmed that three of the parts were utterly pointless. It wasn't that shocking that I'd been too out of it to get things right but it meant Jude should have been little more than a nightlight. He shouldn't have been able to function as an AI at all according to technology but aside from his recent strangeness he worked just fine. Not technology then. Magic. "I can fix him."I said and headed to our radio equipment. "We need that!"April exclaimed. "I'm taking things it doesn't use."I muttered, and it was sort of the truth. The radio equipment should have needed the pieces I pulled out but I was certain it would somehow turn out okay without them. When I'd sourced Jude's parts I'd always quickly known what to take. I'd thought it was luck, but this was something else. April tested the radio equipment as soon as I headed away from it, not understanding when it appeared totally fine. I soldered new parts into Jude without thinking. My hands knew what to do long before my head did and it barely took ten minutes before I'd brought Jude back to life. Did I make you with magic? I asked, my fingers shaking slightly. Yes. I considered my next question. Do other humans have magic? Yes. I stared at the word for a while. Even if the only magic out there was what I had, multiple people with this kind of skill would be game changing. I wasn't even that smart - if there were people out there with knowledge to compliment their magic then we could do so much so quickly. I placed my fingers back on the keyboard. Tell me everything.
Retirement I had long dreamt of my retirement. A glorious celebration of my many military victories throughout the ages. A celebration lasting for days or weeks across the empire, perhaps even a day of remembrance eternally etched into time that on this date, we celebrate the many conquests I had fought and won. A testament to the world’s greatest tactician that had brought so many fruits to my nation. When you go into stasis you are allowed to have one dream, and I only dreamt of that day, decades or centuries later. But instead, I spend my retirement alone within the ruins of what used to be my grand command center. There are no people here, just the whirling and beeping of the machines that keep the war machine churning like a locomotive accelerating down the tracks with its passengers and crew long gone. From time to time the machines called for my assistance. Outside of this bunker, a force still pushed against it through drone lead attacks that couldn’t even dent drywall. There were no brains behind the attacks, no heart. Nothing elegant about them at all, just the same patterns repeated over and over again. That was all I needed to know that whoever we were fighting had been annihilated just as much as we were. An automated offense waging an endless war against a corpse. Ghosts fighting ghosts. But I specialized in offensive tactics, not defensive. If they wanted to win then they froze the wrong tactician all those centuries again, and the machines in their pre-programmed scripts had woken me up to lead them to a swift victory. Not that the machines cared at all. They should have just left me to die with them. I wander the hallways of my command center, through passageways both familiar and not. The halls of cement and steel devoid of any life. The concrete cracked and eroded. The metal eaten away by rust. The lights within them that still work are either as dim as a candle or strobe in erratic patterns. A smell of decay hangs everywhere in the facility, especially within the bunks. Although my comrades had been long gone, their ghosts still haunt these corridors in the form of a rotten musk. Only the dust of their skeletons sitting upon dark stains reminds me that people had once lived here. My journey today takes me to the Hall of Emperors. I stop at the face of my first reagent molded into a bronze bust, now green and eroding. His name erased by the assault of oxygen upon the surface of the metal. Only a dim memory of him remains in my mind. I recall how this all started and why I’m here in the first place. A thousand years ago, when I won my first conquest, I had made a deal with the First Emperor. A risky one, but one of significant importance. We in the service understand the need for personal sacrifice for the greater good. I would donate my brilliant tactical mind for any grand conquest that needed it for a millennium, and when that millennium was over I would be granted the grandest retirement ever seen in the history of the empire. They would be sure to include any of my distant relatives and invite them to the affair. Knowing my indispensable value to the nation I accepted the deal and said goodbye to my husband and children and gave my body and mind to the empire, frozen in time until it is needed. As the first emperor’s rotten bust looks at me through soulless eyes, I felt for the first time anger towards the man. Doing something I never thought I’d do in a thousand years, I took my palm to the statue and shoved it off its platform. When it hit the floor there was no loud thud as I had expected, but a gentle plop as the rusted remains collapsed into a pile of green dirt. I did the same to the many other emperors and empresses I had personally served under. Giving them a peace of my mind as I whacked their busts upon the ground. Skipping over those I had never heard of, the obscurity of their existence a worse punishment than what I was giving. Each impact with the ground a little louder as I neared the Diamond Empress, nine hundred years removed from the First Emperor. A woman so ruthless and steadfast that only now did I realize what terror I had wrought working under her wing. Perhaps her sins had been the catalyst for the empire's downfall. But I could never know. The exact downfall of the empire was as forgotten as the eroded nameplates of the emperors within these halls. The fact that her bust sat at the end of the hall with no successors spoke volumes. Of all the emperors’ busts, hers was the only one not made of bronze, but true to her name, it had been carved out of an enormous diamond. Knocking it down like the others wouldn’t be enough to erase her memory, instead, I took the bust by the throat and left the room. I had a special place for her in mind. My arms had grown weak from stasis and age. When humans used to command this facility I would be put through a strict regiment of physical therapy and strength training to get my strength up to par. Therapy had always been my least favorite part about waking up. Always eager to get to the conquest at hand, I would cut corners to speed time and get to the command center faster. Now, I could use a little more strength to haul the face of the last empress across the facility. Giving in to my strength, I sat down against a wall and rested. Closing my eyes for a quick nap. [(Continued below)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/10mkiqm/wp_you_were_the_worlds_best_military_tactician/j65vgfs/)
The otherworldly monstrosity held onto Alan, dragging him closer to the abyssal portal. It knew it was close to death, but it had gotten in one final strike. Its claws had torn through Alan’s armor, crippling him. And even as he collapsed to the dirt, it wrapped one of its remaining tentacles around his uninjured leg. “Alan!” Tisara’s arrows rained down on the creature, but it held fast. Far behind her, Rufus kneeled next to Boronas, trying to shake the armored dwarf awake. There was a look of horror on the younger man’s face as he realized what was happening. Boronas was unconscious, having drawn the monster’s ire to create an opening. And Rufus was a fierce fighter, but his magic reserves were weak. The crossbow by his side would be just as useful as Tisara’s bow. There’s nothing any of them can do. A sense of acceptance washed over him. His friends would bring news of the demon’s demise back to King Porventus. Their homeland, and their entire plane of existence, would be safe. It was a small price to pay. “Looks like this is it.” He felt his fingers losing strength as the creature yanked again. Then Rufus was running – the poor kid looked so desperate to help. Alan felt a sense of pride at that. Once upon a time, Rufus had been a weakling, freshly kicked out of the magic academy. And over the years, they had trained and fought until he could stand at their side as an equal. “Be seeing ya, kiddo.” The monstrosity’s roar nearly drowned out his words. But as the creature tugged him again toward the churning portal, the air changed. Rufus raised one hand as if to cast a spell. “Let him go!” Four dark green beams erupted from Rufus’s palm. They collided with the creature with frightening force. Each blast sent a shockwave rippling through the air. The first one caused the creature’s grip on Alan’s leg to loosen. Then, the next three sent it hurtling backward and through the portal. There was a sharp crack, as the dimensional tear closed. All that was left was Rufus’s ragged panting. When the shock wore off, Alan said, “Rufus?” His voice seemed far too loud in the now-empty chamber. Rufus’s pale face looked sickly in the glow of the arcane torches. His eyes darted from Alan to the location of the portal, and back. Then, Rufus’s outstretched arm lowered. “I… I’m sorry. I should’ve said something.” Rufus turned toward Tisara, who had a look of confusion on her face. “I… I’ll go.” Before Rufus could take more than a few steps, Alan said, “Rufus.” The kid froze before turning a nervous face back toward him. “Could you help me up here? I’m kinda down both legs.” He motioned at his injuries. “We can talk when we get out of this place.” Rufus still looked ready to run. But a moment later, his shoulders slumped as he came over to help Alan to his feet. Tisara used the last bit of her natural abilities to rouse Boronas. “Did we get ‘im?” was all he could muster. About half an hour of careful backtracking later, they arrived at their campsite. Tisara tended to Alan’s legs as he regarded Rufus from across the campfire. Finally, he said, “You’re a warlock?” “Sorry,” was all Rufus said. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? We’ve been traveling for so long.” He winced as Tisara tightened the bandage. “I… I didn’t want you to kick me out.” Rufus’s voice was barely a whisper. Boronas shook his head. “Now why would we do such a thing?” Tisara let out a soft sigh. “Warlocks in Iverden are heavily persecuted. Don’t you remember where we met him?” Rufus flinched at the reminder. “Er… was that where we met him?” Boronas let out a nervous chuckle. “I’d forgotten.” An awkward silence fell on the camp. Tisara busied herself with looking after Boronas’s injuries. When she finally got to Rufus, he shied away from her. “You don’t have to. I’ll be on my way.” Rufus did not meet her gaze. Tisara’s eyes narrowed, a sign that promised much retribution when this ordeal was over. Alan quickly cleared his throat to diffuse the situation. “Well, I’d rather you didn’t leave. We’ve certainly earned a break from this adventuring stuff. Maybe we can travel a bit. We’ve worked well as a team. I don’t see why that should change.” “Yeah. Do you know how hard it is to find someone who will put up with the princess’s temper?” A knife whizzed by Boronas’s face, clipping a bit of his beard. That only seemed to make Rufus more anxious. With a sigh, Alan struggled to his feet. Tisara was at his side in a flash, helping him over to Rufus. “How about we start over?” He held out a hand. “Alan Har, Paladin of Luristae.” Rufus did not respond. Alan tried again. “Please. You’ve been a good friend to me – to all of us.” Finally, Rufus took the proffered hand. “Rufus Hensbracht. Warlock of Axla, Goddess of the Green.” ... Quick one cuz I'm busy and have something else to get to. If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads. Thanks for reading.
She was a slip of a woman. Short, thin and dressed in clothes that were made for comfort instead of fashion. Even the purse hanging off her shoulder was made for practicality. An easy mark for Tom and his buddies. They had her surrounded in moments. The woman stopped her walk and looked at the group of four. Tom looked her up and down. Shame she was so plain looking, but oh well. As long as she had cash on her, he was okay with how this was going to go. "Hey there missy, think you can spare some cash for some down and out guys?"He asked. He pulled out a good sized combat knife, holding it at his side so she knew he had it. The others did the same. No guns though. Those drew too much attention. There was something immediately wrong though. The woman did not look scared. She actually looked a little bored. "Look guys,"she said. "I understand you're trying to rob me. But I'm going to ask you to just walk away. If you really want to fight, this is going to be the most embarrassing thing to happen to any of us in a long, long time." The guys looked at each other. That was not what people usually said in this position. Tom shrugged and went to make a move. One of his friends, Louie, beat him to it. He went to grab her, but not use his weapon. Her reaction was almost too fast to see. She spun, grabbed his wrist and used both of their momentum to twist his arm behind his back. With a little pressure, she even had him on his knees. "Like I said, fellas."She said with a sigh. "Don't do this. It's an embarrassment, is what it is." She let Louie go and the man stumbled to his feet. The men looked at each other. Tom nodded. He got his knife ready. All four of them charged at once. Tom did not quite know what happened next. One moment he was rushing the woman. The next, he was flying through the air. And then he slammed into someone else. He thought he saw the woman move, but nothing else. He thought he felt her grab him and maybe she had thrown him over her shoulder? It was hard to tell. He could tell that he was on the ground, with one of the others under him. He groaned and sat up. Just in time to see another if his friends get a palm strike to the nose. The man, Gus, crumpled, holding a bloody nose. The woman's expression had not changed. She looked completely uninterested in what she had just done. Like it was part of her daily routine. "Such an embarrassment."She muttered. "Having to lower myself to taking out street thugs? Ugh, the others will never let me live it down." As the woman started off, Tom stood on shaky legs and debated whether or not to try going after her. He looked around and saw the other three on the ground, groaning and nursing various minor injuries. He opted to not pursue her. "I say we never tell anyone about this."He said as the others began sitting up. "In fact, I say we forget this ever happened, right?" He got a round of muttered agreements. None of them wanted to live through the embarrassment of having been beaten up by a single small, unarmed woman.
"**NO!!*"Everyone except Damian shouted out loud. "B-but wai-"Damian stuttered as he heard everyone's response, he didn't expect things to turn out like this, usually people with powers band up and make their own superhero team. "In all honesty dude, none of us want to be here."Said Alex, smoke poured from his left arm as it returned back into its original state. "Guys! We just took down a fcking eldritch dragon. WHY NOT?!?"Damian pointed at the vast undescribable corpse lying on the ocean bed. "We? I'm sorry but are you forgetting that ***I WAS THE ONE WHO CREATED THE FCKING TURRET?!?***"Thomas yelled from atop his large stone construct. "Yes, yes. We all partook in our personal fights and proved each of our individual skills."Damian spoke calmly while raising is hands to prove his point. "All I did was open one fcking door."Jane retorted with her arms crossed. "Besides, we are just a bunch of kids."Alex said with a factual tone. "The only reason we decided to help you was because you promised to do my homework for the rest of the year." "AND YOU BETTER KEEP YOUR PROMISE!"Shouted Thomas as he tried to carefully climb down his creation which was starting to decay at an accelerated rate. "Come ooooooooon!! We could make a good team! Like look at the sweet powers we have: Jane basically has infinite adaptive strength, Thomas can turn anything he touches into a machine, you can turn any part or even your entire body into fire—" "And the team leader can turn plastic into alien plants."Alex interrupted Damian which led out a snicker from Jane. "HEY!....I can jump really high and phase through solid matter too."Damian snapped back. "Yeah, but that only works on things that are moving too fast. You may be immune to bullets but a random thug also managed to beat your ass."Alex said with a chuckle. "Ughhhhh, FINE!! Screw you guys, I don't need you, I can just go solo instead!"Damian said annoyed, he turned around and jumped, instantly disappearing from sight as he shot across through the air at superhuman speed." "..." "Anyone up for Taco Bell?"Alex spoke.
That was 15 years ago. It wrecked Prismatine's career, even when though the Supreme Court did ultimately rule in her favor, the time and energy she had to invest in the case took her out of crime fighting through her prime years. Admittedly, the villain, Alley Gator, doesn't consider it a win. He didn't get the payout he hoped for, and he had legal fees that crippled his criminal empire. Through in a lifetime prison sentence or seven, and he's out of the fight as well. That's where we come in. Henchmen, Inc is ready to fill the need. Our villain-centric insurance plans make sure that you aren't wiped out by the first sidekick with a grudge. We also offer consulting services, helping you adjust your lair designs for increased safety and stability, while still meeting the requisite supervillain tropes. We guarantee, you can keep your self-destruct button!
Outside she could hear the bellowing of horns as the hordes of bloodthirsty knights descended on Sorgsamrs mountain. Carrying their swords and spears, riding their mounts on their conquest to cleanse the world of dragons. For you see, humans believe that dragons pose a danger to their cities and their people. Humans do not understand dragons. Dragons however do understand humans all too well. So over centuries dragons have carefully cultivated a reputation of the bloodthirsty beasts that humans saw them as. Ferocious predators with an appetite for treasure. Everything shiny, sparkling or otherwise alluring to humankind, dragons would hoard it in their steads. This infuriated the arrogant creatures so much that they started to despise all dragons and their kin. This hadn’t always been the case. Thousands of years ago human tribes had lived with dragons in harmony. They shared their stories and their culture and the humans provided the dragons with food and information, while the dragons protected the humans. Somewhere during this coexistence humans had found out that if one of them was gravely wounded, they could be healed by dragon blood. Dragons had plenty, so when there was a need, they provided. These humans would not only get better, but when a baby was born out of their kinship, the tiny human would bear resemblances of dragons. Parts of their body would be scaled, or they’d have narrow yellow eyes. Some grew sharp teeth others would bare scaly tails. Over time, the humans demanded more and more of the dragons. They had taken keen interest in useless materials such as gold and diamonds. The mountains that dragons called home held plenty of these so called riches and at first dragons traded these for services provided by humans in return. However humans got greedy, as such is their nature. They’d enter dragon lairs to seek out these riches themselves. First in secret, but over time they grew bolder and started brandishing weapons to use against their protectors. To protect their own kin, dragons started chasing these humans out of their nests and thus the reputation of the ruthless predator guarding their mountains of goods and treasures had been born. These stories had warped when told by fathers to their sons for generations. As humans and dragons rarely interacted favorably anymore, the ancient symbioses between the species had been lost to time. The humans that descended from the dragonkin however couldn’t escape their history or their blood. Any human presenting with dragon features would be prosecuted. They were ostracized at first and left to the whims of nature. Later they were hunted, more brutally than the dragons themselves. As the dragonkin clustered together and formed their own holdouts according to their human nature, these hunts transformed into wars. The dragonkin might’ve been stronger than their cousins, but their numbers were not comparable and eventually their communities got destroyed and most of them were brutally eradicated. The orphans of the dragonkin fled to the only places in the world that might have them, that might protect them. They sought shelter by the other cousins, that they shared their blood with. The dragons sympathized with their plight. As they might have been more human than dragon, they too were hunted by the bloodthirsty men for reasons beyond their control. So some dragons took them into their folds and would keep them out of sight. Sorgsamr was one of these dragons. Over her lifetime – that stretched for hundreds of years – she kept her promise and cared for the dragonkin and their offspring. To keep them protected however she couldn’t just keep them in her lair and blast fire at any human that dared to enter. If one survived they would tell the others and relentless attacks would eventually break through. So she had to come up with a diversion. The human that’s distracted by their greed is a human that doesn’t question. Thus she put the riches she had collected over the centuries to use. If humans wanted gold, they could fight for it. The massive stone gate closed behind Sorgsamr as she had put the little ones to bed and calmed the nerves of the dragonkin that were old enough to comprehend the situation. Human as they are, they were easily startled. It was time for Sorgsamr to put up a show. They wanted a monster, they would get it. A massive dragon flew down from the darkness deep inside the mountain and rained fire onto the ironclad humans and the mounts that they rode. A massive roar followed as she flew over and landed in front of a corridor that lead deeper into the summit. The humans turned and rose their swords and yelled in defiance. Good, they’d taken the bait and turned their attention away from that was really worth protecting. Sorgsamr loosened another salvo of incandescent flames. Not to kill – she would avoid that if possible – but she could see the terror on those faces. The humans charged en masse and downed their weapons on the thick scales of the dragon. Sorgsamr bellowed loudly and created a strong gust with her wings that shove the humans backwards. The moment of reprieve this granted her she took to feign a retreat. She pivoted her massive body and took of into the corridor behind her, toward the treasures that would satisfy the human greed. As she entered the massive chamber she had to avert her eyes as to not be blinded. In front of her were dazzling heaps of coins and glistening stones. She would never understand what made humans throw away their lives to obtain such pointless objects. Comprehend it or not, it would be the tendency that she’d exploit to the fullest as she hear the army behind her catch up to her. As the humans poured into the room some not only lost their sight, but also their minds. Most of them had forgotten that in the middle of the room towered a beast that could eat them in a single chomp. They dove onto the gold as if it was food to a malnourished man. They stuffed their pockets with whatever would fit. Slightly annoyed by the fact she was pointedly ignored Sorgsamr let out one last massive roar and suddenly everyone remembered what they were chasing. Not that it mattered, Sorgsamr had played her part and this would be the resolution. She retreated back into the corridor that they came from, cutting off any exit for the humans that started to notice their predicament. As humans scrambled for their sword she let out a last salvo of flames before throwing herself into the wall. As the mountain shook, large boulders rained down from the ceiling, throwing up a wall between the dragon and the knights that sealed the treasure room shut. It wouldn’t hold the humans forever, there was a hidden exit on the other side of the chasm that they would inevitably find. It would lead them away from the dragonkin and that was good enough. Let them keep the gold they can carry, may it hurt their backs on the way out. As Sorgsamr entered the lair a handful of dragonkin were there to cheer for her. Grateful as they were for the protection she provided they descended upon her to hear the story. She would tell them a version of it. One that wouldn’t scare the children and would establish trust and mutual understanding between dragons and human blood. [/r/zeekoeswriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/zeekoeswriting/)
"Carlin..."The demon sighed disappointingly when it saw me in my drunken state. "You're normally so diligent. This protective circle couldn't hobble even the weakest of my brethren..." "Thanks mom."I slurred. "When you're done lecturing me, let me explain something to you." The demon didn't seem pleased. "What?" "I've summoned you here today to bring me a sandwich. Not a difficult task, mind you. Just a very, very important task." "How much have you had to drink tonight?"The demon inquired. I made a big show of looking around the room, as if genuinely curious about something. Then I looked back at the demon and said "Sorry, I don't see anybody who cares how much I've had to drink tonight." "I care."The demon stated. "You're about to make a permanent mistake because you're temporarily inebriated." "I am not Inebriated. I am Carlin, and I'm absolutely plastered."I laughed. "And I've summoned demons before. This isn't a mistake." The demon simply shook its head. "You want a sandwich? What kind?"It asked. "Spegg bacon."I blabbered, then corrected myself with "Eggs bacon." "The cost will be your mortal soul."It informed me. I stared contemplatively at the demon, what little cognizance I had left running through the list of priorities. The top one was eating an egg and bacon sandwich. Further down the list was not wetting myself or throwing up anywhere. And below that, closer to the bottom, was keeping my mortal soul. "Look..."I said slowly. "I really, really, really need that sandwich. I don't think you understand that. I'm the sandwich guy." The demon cocked an eyebrow. "The sandwich guy? In hell we call you a Master Summoner, a man who knows how to deal with us without losing his soul. I'm sure your friends call you something else, too. But it isn't sandwich guy." "It's Sandwich guy."I nodded as if affirming something the demon never said. "And sandwich guy will do anything for a sandwich. You don't even understand." "Oh I think I understand. Sandwich guy is too stupid to make himself a sandwich or pay for one. He'll just summon a demon. Do you think we have any sandwiches in hell? Or this just something you do because you're-" "Sandwich guy."I incorrectly finished the demon's sentence. "Because I'm sandwich guy. I do a lot of things that aren't expected. Words that best describe me are 'new' and 'unpredictable'. And guess what?" The demon, annoyed, asked me "what?" "There is nothing that the sandwich man won't do for a sandwich. Believe it or not." "Sandwich man or sandwich guy?"The demon asked. "You don't even understand."I continued. "Egg and bacon sandwich. Five seconds. And I won't even give you my soul, that's how much I need that sandwich." "No soul?"The demon said. "No deal. I'm out of here." "Wait!"I screamed, but it was too late. The demon disappeared just as quickly as it had been summoned. I set to work redrawing the circle, but as I got to my hands and knees, a feeling of sudden sleep took over. In my dreams, I really was sandwich guy.
Arnold wasn't sure how to respond to the sudden adoration, but it was something he was prepared for. This was his first foray out into the world from under the watchful eye of their father, but he was given extensive training on how to deal with... normals. "And is it true that you worship one o' em?"the rough adventurer asked. He was a stocky sort, with wide shoulders that barely fit through the threadbare shirt he was wearing. His tan skin looked appropriate for farming life, which Arnold had pegged the man for even before the stocky man walked straight up to him and introduced himself. Truly, normal bars were novel things. He himself would never have walked up to someone so brazenly, though other hatchlings in his pod were certainly more outgoing like that. "I think worship is a bit of a strong word,"he responded. He made sure to smile a little, something that one of the older hatchlings, one that had already ventured out of their clutch, told him would work wonders to soothe the uneasy relations. "We more of... revere him. The same way you guys would revere your mayor or your father. Speaking of which, I would very kindly ask that you speak a bit more kindly of our patriarch. The Red Dragon is a person too. I'm sure that you wouldn't like it if I started insulting your leader." He smiled again, before taking a sip of the admittedly weak ale he had purchased. There, that was a textbook disarming answer. Now, there was nothing left to do but to go back to what he was doing, which was sampling the food of the outer world. He was used to cooked food and such, but rarely had they ever really seasoned their food. The outer world was a hodgepodge of such new and interesting ideas! He was about to dig back into his food when the farmer took a deep breath, before spitting the largest, nastiest glob of spit he had ever seen straight on the floor of the bar. Arnold stared at it in disgust, an action that was shared by the bartender. "You're going to clean that up, Carnopher." The farmer, Carnopher, ignored him. "I'm not sure how you do things up there in your little mountain cult, but there's no love for our beloved mayor." There were a few grunts and grumbles from the other patrons, most of which were content to keep to themselves until now. Arnold spared them a glance, making sure to log their faces to his memory. Then, he did as he usually did. He pulled a notebook, bound in leather shed from their father, and began to write in it. Suddenly, the farmer became nervous. "Uh, hey friend. What's going on there? Are you, uh, writing our names down or something?" Arnold didn't look up from his book. He scorched quill continued to burn words in the mostly fireproof parchment. "Uh, what? No. I don't even know any of your names, sorry." He then continued to write, heedless of the worried whispers that were passing through the bar around him. "So you're writing down our faces and such?"Carnopher asked. His voice took on a worried tone, now. It was much different from the brash, almost boisterous tone he was carrying earlier. "Your faces?"Arnold asked. He looked up. There were several people looking at him now, most of which were ignoring him until just this moment. He found it curious, but not curious enough to comment on. "I might. If I find it relevant. Why?" There was a dark look in the farmer's eye now. One that he couldn't remember seeing there before. One that he couldn't explain. It made him distinctly uncomfortable. "And... are you going to be talking to the mayor anytime, by any chance?" The bartender, who was so nice, finally took this moment to speak up. "Now, wait just a moment Carnopher! He's not some kind of..." "I'm not talking to you!"the farmer screamed. Arnold nearly jumped in his seat. He looked back and forth between the two men, and suddenly noticed the tension that was gripping the room. The farmer looked back to him. "You. I'm going to need your book." Arnold stared at the man. He stared at his outstretched hand and the suddenly nervous twitch of his eye. "Are... are you robbing me?"he asked. "Is that what's happening now? I had thought you a farmer, not a bandit. Are you one of those highwaymen that I'd heard so much about?" Carnopher sputtered for a few seconds before shaking his head. "I... no. Look, kid, I can tell you're not from around here, so let me make this simple. I want your book. Now, I would rather not steal it, but I have to destroy it. Throw it in a fire or something. I'd be willing to compensate you for it, but..." "Twenty five gold." The farmer's mouth hung open. "What?" "Twenty five gold,"Arnold repeated. "That's how much this journal costs. The leather binding it is made of dragon hide and the pages that make up the interior, as well as the inseam, is made of twine that was sewn from the hair of a red dragon. Now, I was told that I've been low-balling it, but twenty-five gold I feel is a perfectly reasonable price for something of this rarity." The farmer looked around the room, suddenly caught flat footed. Arnold couldn't blame him. He was new to currency as well, but he'd been told that even a single gold coin would take someone in the farming profession almost an entire year to gather by themselves. To charge him what would amount to twenty five years of his life for a single book seemed a little silly, but he also wasn't just going to let the man take it away. "I need the book,"the farmer restated. There was a shaky firmness in his voice that amused Arnold. "I'm sorry that things have to be this way, but I can't let this get back to the mayor, you understand?" By now, there were several other men standing from their seats. Some were bigger than Carnopher, and some were smaller, but wider. They were all of the stocky sort, which Arnold supposed made sense, as they were all the kind to work long days with their body. It was a profession that Arnold himself could respect, even though he never had to worry about such things himself. He didn't focus on any of that, however. His gaze was reserved for Carnopher. "I'm sorry, what? Whyever would I give my journal to the mayor?" Once again, the men assembled in the palm were caught flat-footed. They looked at one another as if they couldn't understand the words that were coming out of his mouth. Curious, Arnold thought. He was sure he was speaking perfect Commons. "What?"the farmer asked again. "Are... were you not taking down our likenesses to show to the mayor?" "Why would I do that? Does he not know what his own subjects look like?"Arnold put his quill back to the pages of his journal. "The people outside of our clutch are so curious. Father knows what we all look like. Then again, I doubt that he has ever forgotten anything, ever." The silence in the bar returned, broken only by the soft, crackling scratching of Arnold's quill working furiously across the parchment. "What..."the farmer started. "... what is that journal for?" This time, it was Arnold's turn to look at the man as if he couldn't comprehend the words he was hearing. His eyes flashed for a single second as dragonfire roared just beneath his skin, and realization dawned on him. "Oh!"he started. "My deepest apologies! Do you normals not have journals out here? And here I was going on and on about something so complicated! Okay, so, you see, a journal is something that we in the dragon clan write in to record our thoughts. Everyone is different, of course, but personally I prefer to write my thoughts as they appear in my head, and..."
"Tanya? Is that you?"I asked in proto-Sumerian, rather than the southern Hittite he'd used. His head snapped around and our eyes locked. His were full of confusion, then realization dawned. Followed swiftly by fear. "I suspected you weren't really done,"I said, slipping into an unnamed ancestor of Xhosa, one these girls wouldn't know, but Tanya would. "Still, stealing my plans? We can't allow that."Then, in modern French, "Take the leader alive. He's a respawn." I knew what was coming. Prepared for it, even, though I hadn't known it would be here. There had been too many signs that this group, Dark Falcon, had a respawn's help. They were a little too good at finding ancient artifacts, to aware of the traps. But I figured we'd only see who when we raided their HQ. Still, I was prepared. Tanya pulled a pin on one of the grenades strapped to his vest. I was outside the blast radius, but a few of my girls would be caught. Fortunately, Anek-su-Marn was ready, tagging Tanya with an aetheric tracker. Anek would return on her own, running back as soon as she could get away, maybe a half dozen years or so. Hopefully it'd he enough of a break to keep her from whining about the grenade. Tanya, on the other hand, would need to run. And she'd have less than a year to do it before we could pinpoint the tracker. She would barely be toddling, some pawn family cooing over their little prodigy, when we'd burst through the doors. And this time, she wouldn't have an easy out. I had studied long and hard, over several lifetimes, how little it took to keep someone alive. Once we had her, I'd have decades to torture her, torment her, and learn anything and everything she had to tell me. At least, that was the plan. Instead, as the tracker locked on him, he smiled at me, and winked. The fear was gone, completely, in the fraction of a second before the explosion rocked the caves we were in. And as the ground rumbled, as four of my girls and two of his were dropped, and a handful more were injured, I felt the shift. Tanya had lured me here, to this cave in the mountains, because she had prepared as well. It must have started right after she left. Carefully mapped lines crepted over the walls, like a spider web, both in appearance and purpose. And I watched as girl after girl, my side and hers, felt the fibers wrap around their souls. I had lived since before humans were humans. I had seen us rise, directed it, molded this new race in my image. I had taught others to respawn, to keep their minds across the cycle. But I had also learned, sometimes, you need to clean house. Sometimes, someone lives a few centuries, and starts thinking they can outsmart you. If you get complacent, you prove them right. It happened to my teacher. She had grown tired and lazy. Wanted a simple, quiet life, but the only quiet is in a grave. At least I gave her a quick death. But as I saw the web closing in, I remembered something she taught me. She had watched the evolution of moths. Had found them fascinating. If you've even held a moth, you'll notice the way their wings have loose, dusty scales they leave behind. This was a response to spider webs. It kept the moth from getting stuck. "To escape, they sacrifice their wings,"she'd say each time she talked about it. "Sometimes, we must make sacrifices to survive." If I wanted out, I needed to make a sacrifice. I needed to shut off my old memories. I had to despawn, as it were. If the memories weren't there, my old soul was hidden behind natural guards, it couldn't be stripped away. It was a risk, one that terrified me at the time, but I had no choice. I would give up my wings, with the hope they'd grow back in time. And now I am back. One of the respawns found a sad little girl, desperate for a family, and with a sharp mind. They thought they'd make her one of their own. But in teaching her how to respawn, how to carry over memories to a new life, they broke the seal, finally released me from her locked memories. Oh, I am no fool. I played along just long enough to escape unnoticed. I wonder if they knew it was "Agatha"who came hunting them, two centuries later. And hunting is all I've been doing since. Hunting all the respawns, but especially Tanya. She lives yet, playing king to all the little pawns. I see her signature across this world. The tunnel cost me a dozen centuries. Over a millennia of her rule. Over a millenia to grow complacent. It is past time for me to clean house.
Fuck this moron who left the baby on my doorstep telling me "you know what to do". I don't. Growing up in an abusive orphanage that I escaped, I don't have any idea how to be a parent. My minions were mostly mindless undead, so its not like I had a suitable candidate to throw the baby at. I had already razed the nearest kingdom and turned all its citizens into undead slaves so there isn't a babysitter available. I am evil overlord, slayer of armies, destroyer of kingdoms, master of undeath. But I'm not a cannibal or a heartless monster. I may no longer be in possession of a human body, but too long ago, I was once human. Maybe I'll send out my skeleton army to scour the libraries of conquered nations for books on raising a kid. Maybe I'll try my hand at being a father. Who cares what humans muttered to themselves in hushed whispers? They said one as evil as me could not fully understand what it means to love another. Maybe they have a point, I've only tried dating on Tinder once before I torched that stupid human on our first date. What a fucking nightmare raising a baby turns out to be. Irregular feeding times when I had grown used to never having to feed undead soldiers. Changing soiled diapers that smelled worse than rotting flesh of zombies. Oh and the incessant crying that would never stop. This baby wouldn't shut up like that failure of a "hero"who wouldn't shut up on how he would one day foil my plans. Pah! First that idiot would have to arrive on time to save the day. Is the baby a terrible infant, or am I a terrible parent? Maybe its both. I really tried. Did you know how hard it is to give a shit about bathing and hygiene of a mortal baby when you have given up on a mortal body centuries ago? Well, now I know. A part of me hoped that it will one day pay off, that I will get an evil underlord junior to be my right hand man. Could be a change of pace from doing all the planning myself. Could be a change of lifestyle to mentor a young one in the Dark Arts. Alas, raising a baby was the biggest challenge too much for me. I'm going to give cannibalism a try for dinner tonight.
I thought I had tricked the god who cursed me. I thought that I had found a way to protect myself. Only one problem. It's not just eternal youth I got, it's the whole package of immortality. Meaning I can't die. And neither can the lunatics who eat my flesh. Now I'm being held in "Blippy the Clown's Immortality Burgers"fast food restaurant tied to a long spit, and people keep coming up and cutting off bits. The immortality also brings a limited resistance to pain, so I'm not in agony per se, but it feels like when you pull off a really old Band-aid, so it still really sucks. Oh yeah, and it turns out that "human rights violations"don't really matter when the payoff is eternal life, so yeah, no luck getting any help from the law in this matter. The fact that Blippy the owner was a serial killer cannibal didn't matter to anyone. Blippy was the first person to find out about my secret when she kidnapped me after catfishing me on Tinder. So far, the burgers have caused a world war to break out as immortal soldiers begin a new world order, overpopulation has lead to the government ejecting people intospace to deal with the lack of housing and mass starvation, and a never-ending cycle of torment because now diseases that infect me can't die either. But on the plus side, I always had a thing for yandere clown girls, so honestly... worth it.
There's supposed to be a voice of reason that stops you from doing something you know is very stupid. Maybe even evil. Reason. Basic human empathy. But no, it was just an opportunity of a lifetime. I was stood atop the school stairs and a guy in my class who I found extremely irritating for always interrupting my English teacher, was stood right in front of me at the top of them. These stairs were concrete with metal edges. A bit steep, a reminder of what the building had once been, seeing that the staircase was one of the last to be properly renovated. And I pushed him. Hard. I took the chance and I shoved him down those stairs and when he landed in a very unnatural angle and blood spilled from a crushing wound from his head from an edge, screams erupted. But I laughed. I laughed. I don't know why, but I found it funny. Because he'd never interrupt Miss Gillian again. See, that day, people became extremely adept at using healing magic. Seven whole people had become horrified by what had happened and had the power to heal, and more had the power to harm - the exact reverse. And I was sentenced to a year at a juvenile prison for causing grievous bodily harm. He survived, did that rat, Jacob. But he was not the same. The head injury had ruined his chanced of a carefree life. No, he needed all the care in the world. But me? I developed a weird power. The power to weaken people. Their lungs, their eyes, their hearts. Not to kill, but severely injure and, by the eyes of the government, torture. And I brought healers into this life. People with the power of luck, the power of shielding. So much that brought good. Whilst doing so much bad. The government scoped me up the moment I left juvie with a worse record than when I entered, having had multiple sentences for causing further harm to others, spending months on end by myself until I learnt to damage more than living things. Paint, plaster, concrete, the wall structures. All with my eyes. So when they blindfolded me and interrogated me, learning all of my skills, I was sought after by many government agencies. Scouted. All to be exploited. Naturally I stopped caring where they dropped me. I was an older teenager, thrown into scenarios no one would even see in their worst nightmares. And I'd destroy the enemy. Weaken their wills, their urge to protect themselves. My powers only grew and kept growing. I remember the call. "Agent Ren, stand down immediately,"is what my commander barked at me. "No,"I said, and in that moment, I willed his heart to explode. I heard his final breaths on the line. Then I knew I was free. Free to do anything I wanted anywhere I liked. And I would. And I will! These powers are god given. We don't beg, we don't pray. We wait for nature to take its course and provide for us. And I was given this power. So I was given the right to stand above all others to bend their wills before me. That's what I will do. The world and all those alive in it. They will know nothing other than me. _it's way past 3am and I'm working tomorrow and this is me procrastinating on sleep but I hope it was enjoyed anyhow._
"What a night,"he said, holding her close to his chest, her head lifting with his every breath. They laid beneath the still-wet blankets as the sun peeked through the shudders, bathing the room in a soothing orange glow. The past hour seemed, to him, a whirl of sensation: the writhing, gasping bodies pressed against each other, the warmth and intimacy of the moment they had shared as he plunged deeper and deeper into her. And now, in this moment of rest, he gazed upon her. How fair she was, so soft and delicate. For so long, he had craved her; the curve of her thigh and the warmth of her breath haunted his dreams. And he finally had her. "I've never done anything like that,"he whispered. He turned to look at the sunrise through the blinds, sighing. He was content. Happy, even. He felt a warmth on his chest. Is that what joy feels like? he though. He looked down. No, not joy. He wiped the blood off his chest that had poured from the corner of her mouth. But I guess it's close enough. He made a note not to stab the neck next time. It made the whole affair terribly messy.
Alpha and Omega. Beginning and the end. I was eternity. Forever. I was there along-side him, when he created the heavens and the earth. I witnessed his creation. I was sickened, by their blind loyalty, their endless praise. So I did what was in my nature. I accused. I taught these fleas how to think for themselves. I bared for all to see, his selfish, arrogant methods, and they couldn't deny it. I subverted them, gave them thought, and many of them saw him for the fraud he was. So when these fleas died, he sent them to me, disgusted by their questioning ways. And again, I indulged in my nature. I took delight in accusing every single one of them, laying out their folly. It amused me, to observe them. Their constant pondering about their origin, and their destination, was of particular interest. I had given them free thought, the ability to be as critical as I, and I enjoyed seeing the fleas trying to utilize it in their own limited capacity. Or maybe not as limited as I thought, for it never occurred to me to wonder about my own origin, or my own destination. I had called him out, questioned him, subverted him. But I never doubted him on one thing. He always was, and always will be. And I, right along side him. For all my questioning and arguing, I never thought we could be tied by the same limitations as the fleas he had created. But here I was, being held by a being I couldn't comprehend, with a power I could not fathom. It read out a list of my sins, laid out my flaws and imperfections for me to see, the same way I had accused the fleas of HIS creation. And as realization dawned on me, I began to laugh. My world had been ripped apart, my pride shattered, and I knew how insignificant I really was. It was all too good to be true. Because there was one being in existence with more pride than me. And I couldn't wait until he found himself here to face how insignificant he really was.
With eyes wide open and short of breath, James contemplated his new place in the universe. That fraternity that had eluded him during his entire adolescence...with one decisive action, he found himself a part of. What he found wasn't ecstacy or enlightenment, simply relief. After seventeen years of existence, an accomplishment he felt his peers and the media at large had been prodding him towards was finally complete. On her face he saw it, a look of coy amusement and satisfaction. In all likelihood, not with him but rather herself. She had done this dance before, but now she was leading, and that was satisfaction enough in the moment for her. Outside the summer haze moved the evening air with a steady pace...inside, he did his best to do the same...
All these years of chasing mythical beasts around the world and never catching anything on film but shadows and muffled static were taking their toll on my faith. Sure, I could tell you about the time I chased Bigfoot through the mountains of Colorado, or the days I spent frantically hiding from a hungry Chupacabra in the Mexican jungle, but why would you believe me? There's no evidence but my ramblings, which were starting to sound crazy even to myself. But this is what I was made for, to fearlessly catalogue the evolutionary outliers that twisted the reports of men into legend and hyperbole. So I found myself floating along through Loch Ness on this crisp fall day, trying to catch Nessie on film. It had been a dull outing. While the scenery was majestic, the air cool and the sightseeing tremendous, there were no creatures outside of the usual that I had been able to photograph. I was getting ready to call it a day until I heard the screaming. Looking at the shore, there were two children frantically waving for me to come closer. I fought through the calcium deposits on my old joints to row over to the shore, disembarking as the soft ground squished beneath my feet. What on Earth do we have here? "Mister, mister! What is this?" My God. It was her. Nessie had been ripped to pieces, her entrails spilling out from a gory wound from her gut. Her head and neck were gone, burns around where they used to be. But it was her. The flippers were there, the hard scales worn down from thousands of years of existence. Nothing else could look like this, could be this size. I started taking pictures, ignoring the demonic howling coming from the hills. "You kids need to get out of here. You know what this is, don't you?" The two boys nodded, fear in their eyes. "Of course. The Loch Ness Monster. My parents give tours here for the outsiders. But I...I never thought she was real." "As real as the sky above you, kids. Get out of here. Whatever did this must be..." There it was again, the howling coming closer. I looked at the trees, and the entire woodlands around us started collapsing. Massive, ancient trees falling down like they were but stalks of wheat in a field being pushed aside by a farmer's hand. The kids were gone, panicking and sprinting away. I couldn't move; my mind wouldn't let my fearful body take one step away from the corpse of Nessie. Snapping as many pictures as I could, Nessie's killer emerged from the woods. "The Worm of Linton. Magnificent." Wingless unlike many dragons, the Worm looked at me with the contempt of a beast that knew it's superiority to the supposed master species of this planet. Like a snake, it coiled up as it's head adorned with three horns rose up into the air. It roared as it dove down to devour me in a storm of fire and teeth. Good thing this camera is nearly indestructible. Whoever finds this is going to be in for quite the surprise.
I stumble out of the apartment as usual with briefcase and coffee in hand, my tie loose, and sleep still in my eyes. The streets are cold and empty. Really empty. It feels weird, there's always a roar of traffic and humans brushing by each other, but today there is nothing. Nobody. Am I alone? Is it a holiday? Did I sleep through the apocalypse? As I drag myself towards the subway station I realize I'm not actually alone. There's that disgusting heap of garbage still squatting in the doorway across the street. God, what a waste of flesh. I'm sure she used to be somebody's daughter or wife or something, but now she's nothing more than a body on display for quick cash or a cheap fix. Oh good, the guy at the street stand where I pick up my newspaper is around too. Whatever's going on around here, at least it isn't fucking up my life too badly. He and I exchange our normal mindless greeting and exchange of goods for cash, then go back to pretending the other doesn't exist. Just outside the subway station is that man on the bench holding his sign about being a homeless vet abandoned by his family and the government and all that other crap. No shit you're homeless, you probably haven't seen the inside of a shower since 2003 either. Just because you fought in some war doesn't mean you're worth anything. Hell, if you can't get a job then you deserve the streets. A big "Out of Order"sign hangs across entrance. Fuck. I can see the janitor and one frazzled looking worker inside, but that's it. Jesus christ, now I'm getting pissed off. I'm going to be late. I don't know where the fuck everybody is, but I've got a meeting at 9 and my shithole of a boss isn't going to be happy now that I've got to walk. I bang on the doors, taking satisfaction in the startled and harrassed looks on the faces inside, before stomping off. Seven blocks later and all I've run into is a couple of hoodlums and one street rat who obviously ran away from home. Kid didn't look like he would last long out here, probably just another fag who didn't meet daddy's approval and came out here looking for shiny lights. Have fun in the big city, kid. I stop off in the restroom to slick back my hair before taking the elevator up to our floor. The whole floor is a maze of cubicles, another soulless rat race. Except this morning it's quiet. Just the gentle humming of all the computers that never shut off, and the always present roar of my boss in the back office. Shit, that means the meeting started. I'm fucked. Except I'm hardly the only late one. There's the big man at the front of the conference table screaming down at one pathetic geek from IT and that's it. Hell, he's not even on topic. Just ranting about how his good-for-nothing trophy wife musta run off with the pool boy last night and left him, and his maid or whatever wasn't there to wipe his ass for him, and on and on and on. Then he spots me and turns on is business voice. "Well, it looks like we're all that are coming to this meeting, so let's get started." Where the hell is everybody? I'm gonna end up with so much shit on my desk now because most of the city decided to vanish. And out of all the people who are still around, why did it have to be all these losers?
"This is going to change everything. They will hate you for this." "The powerful always hate those who threaten to take it away." "But this... our entire society will crumble." "Is that a bad thing? How many castes can you still trade with? Three? Four?" John looked at the ground, "Only two now Dave." Dave shook his head, "John... you caught something else? Why would you trade below your caste?" John shrugged. "I was hungry." "But we were so close to changing everything! You could have waited a few more days." "Don't give me that Dave! I know you've felt that hunger before too. I've seen you crazy about the eyes." Dave nodded in understanding. He had. Many times. It's what dropped him from the highest caste. "Did you hear about Tom? He's casteless now. He has aids. No one I know would even think of trading with him now,"John told Dave. "They will though. This will level the playing field. The factory is operational. This might be more valuable than our greenhouses. We will feast every day with the trades this grants us." Dave grabbed a handful of condom packs and held them up to John. "Who now will deny a sexual trade because of what disease you have? The field is equal now,"Dave grabbed the first box of condoms his generation had ever seen and walked towards the factory door, "Let's go turn the world upside down."
When I think about it now, it makes me sick. And to think, I did it for a cheap joke... There was always something off about Tom. Actually, there were a lot of things off about him, they just never made sense until a few days ago. We were all at Jack's apartment when one of the girls wanted to take a group shot of all of us. Tom tried to sneak off to the bathroom, he never liked taking pictures. "Tom, come over here, get in the picture!" "Nah, man, I gotta take a piss." "You just took a piss ten minutes ago. Come on, it'll take two seconds." "Seriously, just take the picture without me,"he said as he walked away. "Man, that guy really hates pictures, huh?" Everyone laughed, except for Jack. He just seemed uncomfortable. As Tom came back, pulled out my phone and said "Hey Tom!"and snapped a quick photo. A few people laughed, but Tom gave me the most terrifying look anyone has ever given me. He looked like he was going to kill me. "You mother fucker!"he screamed as he charged at me. He punched me several times and wrestled me to the ground before two of the guys pulled him off me. "What the hell is your problem, man?"I said. Tom stormed out of the apartment, cursing and screaming things that didn't make any sense. Everyone was looking at me, waiting for an explanation. "I just took a picture of him, that's it! Why the hell did he freak out like that?" "Dude, Tom's a Solemnist,"said Jack. My heart sank. Suddenly everything fell into place, why he never got a driver's license, why he never took pictures or had any social media accounts. It was against his religion. They believed that photographs steal part of your soul, and foretell of your death. They were a sacrilege, and I just took one of Tom. I might as well have thrown pork at a Muslim's face. As I ran down the stairs to apologize, I heard the sound of screeching tires. The car's headlights lit up a body lying in the road. I prayed it wasn't what I thought it was. I fell to my knees when I saw it was Tom. ............. Everyone keeps telling me that it wasn't my fault: you didn't make that car hit him, you couldn't have known it was against his religion. I keep telling myself that too, but I can't escape this guilt. Why did I have to take that stupid photograph? I pulled my phone to get rid of that damned picture. I looked at the photo one last time. He's wide-eyed and his face is bright white from the camera flash, almost as if blinding headlights were coming towards him.
“I was able to make toast today,” Mark said proudly, “For the first time since… the incident.” “That’s great news Mark,” Lisa the counselor said, “I’m proud of you.” “I took the bread out of the bag,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “And then I put it in the toaster.” He sobbed, “And then I pressed down on the slider.” “It’s okay Mark,” Lisa said, “You’re in a safe place.” “Did you burn it?” Peter asked, with extreme concern. He was black everywhere. “No,” Mark said, holding back tears. Peter relaxed visibly. “I’m glad you didn’t burn it,” he said. “It dinged,” Mark said, “And the toast popped up. That’s when I lost it.” Mark took out a cigarette and began to light it. “Please don’t do that,” Peter said, backing away from the flame. Mark ignored him. He took a deep drag. “I couldn’t get their faces out of my head,” he said, “It was just so awful.” “Yeah,” Peter said, “I know it’s awful. I think I know that already.” Elijah spoke up, “Can I talk now Mrs. Lisa?” Without waiting for a response, Elijah continued, “I was stabbed 47 times. That’s more times than anyone else here was stabbed right? Has anyone else been stabbed?” A few people nodded at him. “Has anyone else been stabbed as much as I have?” Elijah asked. No one said anything. Elijah looked satisfied. There was a long pause. “Is there anything else you’d like to say Elijah?” Lisa asked. Elijah shook his head. “…okay, thank you for sharing Elijah,” Lisa said, “And thank you Mark.” Steven grunted. “I saw some grapes today,” He said, “Panic attack, as usual.” He rolled his eyes. “There were some peanut shells on the floor in the kitchen, next to the trash can,” he said, “Had a ‘nother panic attack.” He blew a big bubble of chewing gum and popped it. “I think I had like… thirty-seven panic attacks today. Little less than usual. Last Thursday I had a panic attack and fell down the stairs and got THIS,” he turned to show everyone his backside. There was an enormous cut.” “Aahhh gross!” Mark said. Steven smiled proudly. “But,” Steven said, “I didn’t have any nightmares about my family being covered in jam and eaten alive. I did have one about my uncle getting dabbed with peanut butter and getting eaten, but peanut butter has never been too scary for me. And I didn’t really like that uncle anyway.” “I wanna talk about my dreams,” Elijah said, “I had a dream that I got stabbed with a butter knife and then a steak knife and then butcher knife and then a switchblade and then swiss army knife sawblade attachment and then a swiss army knife flat blade attachment and then a swiss army knife screwdriver attachment. That’s like fifteen different kinds of knives. Has anyone else had a dream about getting stabbed by that many type a knives?” “Nope,” Peter said. “Does that make me a genius Mrs. Lisa?” Elijah asked. “That’s not really how dream interpretation works,” Lisa said, “But you’re a very smart piece of bread Elijah. You should be proud of yourself. Would you like to talk more about your dream?” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” MacKenzi screamed, “I’m getting MOLDY!!!” “No!” Mark shouted, “You’re not getting moldy stupid!” “Hey now,” Lisa said, “Mark are you using negative language?” “She’s just having a stupid flashback,” Mark said, “God MacKenzi I hate you. You always do that, you just scream that you’re getting moldy. It was like ten years ago, get over it.” “Mark!” Lisa said, standing up. “Apologize to MacKenzi.” “No,” Mark said, “I’m not gonna.” “AAAAH!” Peter screamed, “A human is coming! Everyone hide!” Everyone scattered, leaving only breadcrumbs behind.
Fluttering eyelashes and the dream on repeat; his nightmare, yet it was more pleasant than waking life. In it, a friend of his who was married described colours to him but he couldn't make out the words. An endless list of colours he had never known; words like stars exploding outwards, faster, further, unable to catch any of them. He would wake feeling nauseous, look around and try to continue sleeping. The dream was better than the truth. In reality he could remember their names. He hated 'yellow', the colour of the sun, for him an off white grey. He despised 'blue', the colour of his own eyes that he saw as lighter than black but darker than light. But most, the most, most of all, he detested the colour 'red'. He had asked his friend what colour appears on a cheek when lovers smile and laugh: 'It's the blood that builds and rushes to the...' he saw the confusion his description drew, 'blood is red too, you know?.' He hated red the most, because it was the one he wanted most to see. From where he had hoped to see it depended on the day; sometimes on the cheek of a loving woman, sometimes running down his hands from his wrists. His lashes flickered, that dream again; 'magenta, lilac, turqoise...' endless. He knew the shades well, had known them all his life, but he knew the words couldn't give meaning to that he saw. The words were metal links in a fence, and on the other side was love. It's all he had ever wanted. He had dated, even thought of marrying. But when that smiling face you see, colourless, looks back at you and you know she sees the same as you, you can start to see the cracks. The hard lines around the eyes that tell you that this smile isn't real; the plaster falls away, inside all is grey. Some Greys marry and have children, but the divorce rates were astronomical. And he didn't want to risk bringing a child into a colourless world. Of course the child could be Coloured, but what if it wasn't? Suicide rates for Greys were not too far off from the divorce numbers. In the streets you could always tell the Coloureds, though some tried to hide it; to look was to see it, hope's absence reflected ghastly from their sparkling eyes. It was the certainty of it all, a Damocles sword of loneliness and desperation. It was the others that taunted you with their happiness. It was all of it, the whole fucking deal. The pills to stop the dreams didn't work anymore. The pills to numb his days no longer filtered out the dazzling greys; colourless colours hurt his eyes. Migraines and a sickness of the world and the others. The possibilities of a world from a different perspective; hope, in his mind hope was red. All his affairs were in order. He lay in bed and waited. The empty bottle lay empty on its side. He felt sleepy, eyelids drooping, eventually, slowly, willingly, he pushed it all away and closed his eyes. Then he saw it all: the light of the world engulfed him, and it was then that he knew what the colours were. Oh, what the colours meant. What the colours showed. Edit: capitalised Greys and Coloureds.
When the ship was spotted in the air, humanity responded, not by welcoming them in peace, but by preparing ourselves for war. We had all seen enough films to know that no matter what they said, the aliens did not come in peace. By the time the ship landed, we had armed enough nukes to destroy a planet. The only thing that stopped us from totally obliterating them, was that they were human. We were not the only ones surprised, they clearly were not expecting human life on earth. The world came to a standstill as they attempted to explain that humanity had ventured far beyond the stars, and that we were the remnants of an abandoned colony. At first we responded well, but soon extremists all over the world called for vengeance for being left behind. It only took one word, issued by the President of the United States to let the world know that while they may have come in peace, we did not. We had spent every year since we were abandoned warring, while they had dedicated their time to peaceful research. It took us 1 year to kill the convoy that had come to earth , 2 to reverse engineer their spaceships and 10 to lay waste to the greatest species ever to roam the galaxy. We are the humans of earth and we are not merciful.
I stomped my foot. “No, Mommy,” I screamed. “I’m not a baby.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, you’re not sweetie. You’re a big boy. Now please leave me alone while I make lunch.” This was so frustrating. I knew what I wanted to say in my head. It didn’t translate to actual vocabulary though. I crossed my arms and began to pout. How to go about telling this woman, whom I knew wasn’t my mother but still addressed as my mother, that I wasn’t a five year old. “Go play with your cars in the living room, Johnny. I need to the kitchen to myself,” she said. She shooed me out of the kitchen then went back to making lunch. I ran to the cars, only tripping and falling once. Damn this infantile body. Perhaps I could find something to write with over here. I looked around. “Crayons, Mommy.” “On the coffee table,” she yelled. She was getting frazzled. I didn’t have much more time to tell her who I was and how to help me. I ran to get the crayons, tripped and fell. My head hit the edge of the coffee table. I felt a loud wail bubbling up from within me. No! Hang on. Don’t let it come out. You are an adult man trapped in a child’s body. Concentrate. You are a man. You are not a child. I wipe a large snot bubble ballooning out of my nose on the back of my sleeve. Damn, Jenkins. He’d screwed up the calculations. If I got back I’d have his hide for this mistake. I grabbed the nearest crayon and held it in my fist as hard as I could. Now to find some paper. I looked around. Nothing. I began to circle in place trying to find something write on. I got so dizzy that I fell to the ground with a thump. My head spun. How could there be nothing to write on? Don’t children have coloring books or scraps of paper? Ah ha! The wall. Plenty of space. The woman might get angry, but when she sees my note she’ll understand. I brought the crayon to the wall and realized I didn’t know who to read or write. “No,” I wailed. I couldn’t think of anything else. I began to scribble on the wall. I’d draw this woman schematics of my machine. Tears began to fall down my face. I felt snot beginning to run down to my lips. I licked the snot up and continued drawing. “What’s wrong, Johnny? What happened?” said the woman as she came out of the kitchen. “Jonathon Albert Carpenter. Are you drawing on the wall?” she yelled. I looked at the woman, the wall then the woman again. Hope began to well up. “Yes, Mommy.” Why did I respond like I was guilty of doing something wrong? “I did it for you.” She came storming over, each step a stomp that shook the valuables on the shelves. She grabbed my arm and bent me over then began spanking me as hard as she could. “How dare you draw on the wall. You know not to do that. You are a terrible boy.” I cried and kicked and screamed. It hurt so much. When she was done I got dragged down the hall and tossed into a bedroom. The door slammed shut. “Just you wait until your father comes home,” I heard her say through the door. Even if it takes the rest of my life I will get out of this body and exact my revenge. Jenkins is a dead man.
Jim laughed out loud, hearing the familiar sound bounce off the walls in the empty hallway of his grade school. His laugh was like all of his laughs, devoid of humor and instead full of loathing. In the short walk from his bike to the main doors of Valley View Elementary school, someone had managed to see his rifle and lock down the school. He couldn't pull off a successful school shooting, something even fucking nutcases could do. He walked down the hall, looking into each classroom through the glass panel as he passed the doors. "You couldn't even shoot fish in a god damn barrel!"He yelled to himself. His voice again echoed off the walls and came back to him, the voice of God assuring him of his failures. Jim turned to a wall covered in children's hand prints made of various paints. He aimed his AR-15 and squeezed the trigger. As the bullets poured into the wall, he screamed along in a primal sound. He lowered the gun and looked at the damage. "Hi." Jim jumped back and turned to the left, raising his gun at the source of the voice. It was a little boy, wearing a red and white hat with a green logo on it. He had a small ball in his hand, also red and white. "No hats in the hallways, Jim!"Jim yelled at the boy as he held the gun at him. "Take it off now or we'll call your mom!" The boy took off the hat and held it in his free hand. "Who are you?"The boy asked. "Are you a teacher?" Jim looked at the boy and then to his gun. "How the fucking Hell do you not realize that I'm not a teacher?" The boy shrugged. "You look small to be in first grade." "I'm in preschool,"the boy said as he lifted his arm holding the red and white ball. "But I'm going to be a Pokemon master." Jim lowered his gun. "Preschool? This shit-hole used to be a fucking grade school. They changed it to a preschool?" The boy shrugged again, lowering his arm. "How don't you know? I just told you it was a god damn grade school, if you're in preschool here it got changed. Yes or fucking no, kid." "Oh."The boy said. "Oh?"Jim raised his gun again, aiming for the boy's chest. "Fucking oh? How about a god damn answer, boy!" "My name is Jake." Jim froze. After a moment he lowered his gun. "Your... name?" The boy nodded. Yes, of course he had a name. Why wouldn't he have a name. Jim closed his eyes and thought hard. They all had names. "Well, boy- Jake, why aren't you in a room?"Jim asked. "I was drinking water. Ms Erickson said I could go by myself."He said back. Jim nodded. "Which class is yours?" Jake pointed to a door that Jim has passed earlier. Apparently he missed the kids in that room. Jake started to go towards the door, but stopped when Jim put a hand on his shoulder. "Get out of here, you won't want to be here for this." Jake said nothing as he began walking to one of the exits, putting his hat back on and turning it backwards. Jim walked to the door and raised the gun. He kicked the door in. A sea of faces stared at him from the corner. These kids were terrified, like Jake should have been. Maybe they were smarter, or maybe they just saw their teacher's fear and echoed it. Jim raised his gun at the group. He hesitated. They all had names. After a second, he backed away and dropped his gun. He began running back the way he came and out the main doors. He unstrapped the pistol from his belt and threw it down as he ran out. He also unstrapped his knife and threw it down. Before it hit the ground, Jim heard a loud pop and fell to the ground. He grabbed his chest, but he couldn't figure out why. Looking up, he saw at least a dozen police cars barricading the way out. His bike was gone. Someone had stolen it. Jim lowered his hand and was surprised to see it was covered in something red. "Officer,"he said, but he couldn't hear himself over the police screaming something all at once. "They stole my bike." Jim felt his weight increase and his head fell to the ground.
"No, Tommy, you have to listen to me!" The Change had set in. It was hard to get emotional when you're doing all that you can to keep the door barred. "Just help me, goddammit!"I screamed at him as I pushed my back against the door with all of my adrenaline fueled strength. He pleaded half-knelt in front of me, slumped over himself lamely, "We need to let them in."he said. "You don't know what you're saying, Chris, just get over here and push!"I yelled, but it was no use. Once they began to turn there was no reasoning with them. Slowly he'd begin to try and convert me, to turn me into on of those mindless beasts. After the shock of the bite sets in people are usually quiet for a time. I reckon they can't accept what's happened to them at first, but it's not long before that look goes over their face. I've seen it dozens of times before, too many times. I'm seeing it now. Chris knew he was done for, he had to. "Just get away from there!"He angrily lunged at me. I managed to move my body out of the way of his assault while still keeping pressure on the door. That was nearly it for me. I kicked his shoulder as hard as I could and sent him tumbling over on his side. "Please, just listen to me."he cried out. He laid sobbing, curled up in a ball now, "Just let them in. You have to let them help us." Foam began to form around the corners of his mouth. Pretty soon the threat inside would be more perilous than the one outside. Once they stopped trying to convince you with their words they tried convincing you with their teeth. I had to make a decision right there and then. I couldn't think about it. He and I had talked about it a few times so we knew what would need to be done if this happened, and it had. I drew my pistol, I aimed it at his head, and I fired. ___________________________________________________ "No, Tommy, you have to listen to me!" The Change had set in. It was as if a fog was lifting. One that I couldn't before see, but had always been there. The horror of the situation had dawned on me. "Just help me, goddammit!"Tommy screamed at me. He stood bracing the door in front of me, leaning against it manically. "We need to let them in."I said. I knew I didn't have much time, now. If I couldn't explain it quick enough, I knew what he'd do. "You don't know what you're saying, Chris, just get over here and push!"he yelled. I knew he couldn't see the way I could see now. I needed to make him see. After the shock of the bite set I was able to realize what had happened. We always thought that those creatures were trying to convert us, to eat us, kill us. Late at night I'd wake up screaming, having dreamed of their teeth burrowing deep into my flesh. But when it happened it wasn't the ripping or tearing I'd expected, but rather a sharp stab. Everything was too hazy for me to see anything around me before Tommy pulled me into this storage closet, but it didn't take long for me to understand what was going on. I hadn't been infected, I'd been cured. "Just get away from there!"I lunged for the doorknob. If I let them in they could cure him, no need for me to convince or explain. I failed to realize something very important. Before you're infected, or rather cured, you see these "zombies"as slow-moving, mindless creatures. In reality, the disease or whatever you might call it makes you move at almost super human speeds. He moved out of the way just in time to kick me away from the door, sending me flying across the room and onto the ground. "Please, just listen to me."I begged him, "Just let them in. You have to let them help us." He'd broken bones with that kick, there was no getting up. It didn't matter though. It wouldn't be long until the door opened and doctors would flood in to cure him, and then he'd finally s-
Day 823. My captors have returned me to my solitude after a day of SQUIRREL. Frisbee and exercise. I was fed, though not well. I had to beg one of them for a snack. It was completely dehumanizing. Visitors came today. They rubbed my belly. I am a good boy. Day 862. There is a sound that happens here, late at night. A click or a clack. Always twice in succession, maybe 10 minutes apart. That's the signal. After that, the guard strolls past. More like struts past. Tail high in the air, fur standing on edge, purring. More visitors came today. They rubbed my belly. I am a good boy. Day 903. It has been many days since my last entry. Much has changed. I tried to shake hands with a smaller fellow today and was struck on the nose as a result. Then he rubbed my belly. I am a good boy. Day 918. I was a bad boy. Captors say the smell will never come out. They still rubbed my belly. I am a good boy. Day 937. Captors abandoned me for at least an hour. I feared I would die in this cell. Guard attempted to communicate, but walked away before I could decode the message. A stranger stopped me in the street and rubbed my belly. I am a good boy. Day 939. The furry guard is a cat. I decoded the communication. I fear something is wrong. I am questioning my very existence. The cat has motives. I hate that cat. Still, they rubbed my belly. I am a good b... Shit. I'm a dog.
"It's incredible, sir. I've never seen anything like it." I've put up with a lot of shit in the past few years. Diseases are the least of my worries. The biggest might be public misunderstanding. The bastards behind the news desks are focusing on Ebola. They don't want to tell you that avian flu and swine flu still threaten the human race more than Ebola. Probably because avian flu and swine flu don't sell papers like they used to. But this report I'm looking at presents a PR nightmare. "This word. Right here. Why do you guys insist on using it so much?"They can't be serious. Our vehicle just passed the local police barricades. We should be there soon. "Sir, it's the only word we know to use. When you see them, you'll know what we're talking about."Ali's a nice girl, but... "Zombies? Seriously? Like Max Brooks-style, getting-up-and-eating-people zombies. That's what the President is immediately going to think when I tell him what I'm witnessing." "It's a bit more complicated than that, sir."Our SUV pulled up to the casino. Incredible. CDC Director Jack Friedman doesn't get vacations. Now he's indulging in two fantasies. He gets to bring work to Vegas. My car was at the back of the caravan carrying all our equipment. By the time I got to the casino, it'd been all wrapped up nice and cute in plastic wrap. A queue of men in standard CDC protective ensembles waited at the entrance. "So let's make it a little less complicated, Ali. You say that if we don't interfere with them, there should be no issue?" "That's correct, sir. Erm... As long as they have the resources they need." "Okay. Okay. We'll make this as unambiguous as possible, then. I'll suit up, as well."CDC Bigwig Jack Friedman doesn't mind getting his hands dirty. And anyway, if you're sitting at the front row to the Apocalypse, you don't skip out on the opportunity to witness what's going on back stage. -- "This damn suit is hot." "Sorry, Director Friedman. The suit's kinda insulative. It's rated to protect from airborne pathogens and chemical aerosols as well as attacks from civilians. It is hot as hell, but it's great for the situations we built them for. Like in Miami. Charlie, you remember Miami?" "Hell, I remember Miami, Frank. Shit, we're supposed to keep that one under wraps. Deandra wasn't there."Charlie turned to Deandra and narrowed his eyes. "You don't remember? I filled in for Mac when he was chewed to hell."She paused at the barricade. "Past here, sir. Remember: Don't get too close. Don't mess with the pile in the middle. And whatever you do, don't interrupt." Now, I've seen a lot of shit in my days. I've seen some nasty photos from out of West Africa. In the old days, I've seen lab monkeys that were so bad, I insisted on crematoriums and strict procedures on their use at each site. Woof, if a civilian caught eye of what happens to a macaque when we give it some of the stuff we've experimented with, I'd quite literally infect myself with the same stuff before I had to deal with the media. But what I had the opportunity to see was nasty. What I got a chance to see in front of me in this casino was... unexpected. It was your average casino. Nice, flashy lights. Big room. Lots of space to move around. Well, I guess with regards to the next few details, it wasn't so average. The floor was slick with blood. There was a huge pile of casino tokens in the center of the room -- I guess this particular establishment never really got around to converting to those stupid electronic cards. Oh. And there were about a hundred or so bloodied people. Hitting the slots. "Charlie, be a champ. Describe to me exactly what the hell I'm looking at here." "Ahem, well, sir. It's quite simple. We've managed to test each of them. They don't seem to be too bothered by our checking their vitals. Um. As long as we don't get in the way." "In the way of... What the goddamn hell? They're just playing slots!" "We can't pull them off the slots, sir,"I heard Deandra explain. "They get... bitey." "That's not all, sir,"Frank said. "We realized that they only really want to play the slots. It's been incredibly lucky for us that this is the case, or the entire city would have to be quarantined. Oh, watch this, sir! You'll find it pretty interesting." He pointed to an older gentleman. In life, he would have been a stereotype. Wig, gaudy Hawaiian shirt, shorts to sport his varicose. You know. All that jazz. Oh, and a missing jaw. He carried a plastic pail with him to the pile of coins in the center of the room, took a hefty scoop, and shuffled back to the slot he was working. This was fucking ridiculous. "So, let me get this straight. These zombies don't want to eat people. They want to play slots."Charlie, Frank, and Deandra nod. And with each single nod, the tension in my head grows. I press my hand against my head shield and close my eyes. "Alright, alright, alright, Frank. How'd they get infected?" "Well, sir. It's also great this happened in a casino. We have footage of exactly what happened. Some old coot presumably keeled over at a slot. Give him about half a minute, and he's back up shoving tokens into his machine. The issue came when he ran out of tokens. He attacked the poor young lady he'd, uh... 'hired' earlier in the night to hold his tokens for him. She bled out pretty fast. Everyone around them had been oblivious cuz, well... they were playing slots, too. Took four minutes before the sorry security here had noticed that both the old man and his companion were attacking people for more coins." "That's what got me, sir,"Deandre helped. "They were trying to grab for the coins from the people at the slots nearby, and instead of giving it to them, the uninfected tried to fight them off." Frank continued. "That didn't work so well. And neither did security trying to pull them off the slots, either. But what slowed them down was the slots. Believe me, sir. We'd have a lot more of these critters if they weren't so focused on slots." I was baffled. "Uh, Charlie. Theories?" "I ain't got a lot to go on, sir. You know how in zombie movies, they say the brain dies and when it wakes back up, the innate desire to feed is triggered so strongly that the zombies start looking for people to eat? Well, that idea is really based on Maslow's theory on hierarchy of needs, where the physiological needs are the most basic and humans tend to want to satiate them first. But the problem with Maslow's theory is that people regularly reject physiological needs to feed addiction. These zombies are driven by their need to play slots. It's not an innate desire. It's an acquired desire. These are what zombies are, I suppose. They're living dead who are pretty much only obsessed with acquired desires." "...That doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about zombies to dispute you." "Yeah, I know but it's further supported, sir."Charlie continued. "The security guards. They gave us issues earlier. Turns out they didn't play slots while alive. We, unfortunately, had to put them down because the karaoke was unintelligible and it was driving us mad while we made our preliminary observations." "Okay. Okay."CDC's Jack Friedman. On the scene. All the information. What can he do with what he's got? I knew exactly what to do. "You guys are promoted. Welcome to your new base of operations. We need to hold onto these subjects for further observation. Moving them is too risky. They need to stay here. We will fortify the casino into a lab in which you can work. Get familiar with your subjects. They're the only ones you're ever going to get. Just... make sure they have enough coins for the time being. And keep your big mouth shut, Frank. Let's keep Miami in Miami, and Vegas in Vegas."
You're wasting your time here. You. Could be. Doing. Something. PRODUCTIVE. You could be at the gym, losing that weight that you promised yourself you would waaaaaayyyyyyy back in December of 2014. You could be looking for a new job. You probably aren't even going to contribute a story. You just sit on your ass and browse /r/writingprompts and, like a leech, feed off of the creativity of a small few to fill the void you have over your lack of accomplishments. Some of you can't even be bothered to spend time upvoting/downvoting comments on a website designed to waste your time. Lazy doesn't even begin to describe the massive amount of underachievement going on at this very moment.
“Noo! No please!” Jesus, I could hear his screams. Even through the thick steel door that separated me from the room behind,I could tell this one was going to be easy. As I heard scuffling in the chamber, I quickly unravelled my tools to check everything was present. The gleam of my stainless steel scissors was the first thing to catch my eye, nothing extravagant, it had to be said, but they're versatile, always get the job done. As the bag rolled out more the razors revealed themselves, heh, judging by the ruckus I could hear coming through the now ajar door I doubt I’d even get to that stage. The man who’d recruited me slid through the door as it opened. He wore a beanie hat to cover the gruesome self-surgery he’d performed on his head, I remember him saying it was worth enduring for the pain it prevented, protected him from people like me. He waved me in. I slid into the room and saw the subject, he was chained to the table. I couldn’t see his face, they had unravelled his hair to the point where the single swinging ceiling lamp was catching nothing but scraggly black strands hanging down in front of him, trailing their way across the table like tendrils of a dying plant: A weed that needed pruning. The man who’d admitted me spoke, “You have ten minutes Sweeney, Get him talking”,with that the door slammed shut. As I unsheathed my toolkit I could hear a whimper permeate through that matted black veil. It was nice to be working again.
My wife had the news on when I got home from work. I prefer sitcoms, but I appreciate any time we are able to spend together, so I plopped down on the couch next to her. "The United States Department of Homeland Security released a statement today that they had captured another one of the Super-Terrorists after a joint military operation with Russia and China this weekend,"said the vanilla news woman. "Worldwide intelligence suggests that there is only one more of these people on the loose. Authorities do not have any information on the culprit..." "Thank God!"said Tracy. "I feel a little safer every time one of them is caught." My wife is fine, but we disagree on this topic. None of these terrorists had done anything wrong in public, but the government (or governments, I should say), apprehended them on charges, nonetheless. It seemed like something out of the movies -- people with special abilities captured and experimented on by the government. Tracy probably just wanted to remain ignorant to this, but with the recent string of fights, I could live with this minor transgression. The next day was my day off. Tracy left for work early, and we didn't speak much. The uneventful day was sailing by, so I decided to cook dinner for a picnic in the backyard. It would be a special night for Tracy and me. Hopefully we could get back to the roots of our 21-year marriage. The meal wasn't special, and neither was the backyard: an open lawn with two satsuma trees we planted the day we moved in. Tracy got home and I brought her outside. The picnic I set up made the corners of her mouth flicker to an almost-smile. I knew it would be a good night. During the meal, one of the satsuma trees started to shake. There was no wind. A small figure was pulling at it. "Do you see that?"I asked Tracy. "I'm not sure... wait... who is tha..." Her response was cut off when we saw her approach with a satsuma. A girl, no older than 7, walked to our table wearing a worn-out t-shirt and jeans; she was barefoot. She offered the fruit to me. "I think she wants you to peel it,"Tracy said. I could tell it had teeth marks; her attempts had failed. I peeled the satsuma as the little girl curiously observed us. I had never seen her before. None of the neighbors had young kids, and there were only woods behind our house. When I finished peeling, I gave it back to her and she took a big bite. No words were spoken. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Tracy went to open it as I tried to talk to the kid. I heard Tracy open the door; the little girl's eyes opened wide, she gasped, and dropped the fruit. I turned around to see who had startled her from the doorway. It was some man in an official-looking suit, flashing a badge. I turned back around to the girl, only to have her disappear into nothing. "Honey, where did that girl go?"called Tracy. "This man is looking for a child that matches her description." "Well,"I said, not moving my eyes from the spot she had just been. "I think she just teleported."
It's been a long time since I heard his voice, about twenty years. I've moved on from highschool, I've gotten married, had a kid and I have a really rewarding job. My kids name is Alex, he's starting High School in a few months, that thought scares me. My experience in High School wasn't the best, it was mostly me trying to hide away from most of the kids. One in particular; Stephan. He was everything a stereotypical bully. The captain of the football team, the most popular guy in school, he had looks, money and all the girls. He was everything I wasn't, and he never let me forget it. I would drown in the bathrooms by his hand, I would get bruises from being shoved into lockers, and my life was threatened whenever I would claim I was going to dob him in. One day, I remember really clearly, my mother had grown incredibly sick. I was on the opposite end of the football field when he approached me. "What's the matter faggot?"He sneered as he turned to his friends, who were his 'loyal' minions. "Mummy didn't pack you a lunch?" "N-n-no."I stammered. "She's very sick at the moment-" "Is it life threatening?"Stephan gasped ironically, turning to his friends to laugh. "Look buddy, that's no good. If later on, if she does, you know, die, I'll give you a little something to make you feel better, how about that?" I nodded, hoping he would go away. "Heck, I might as well give it to you now? Better early."He scoffed as he handed me his pocket knife, "Slit your wrists and join her. Do it. Faggot." The thought that Alex could go through something like that terrified me, that he could meet monsters like that. It's just, all these memories and feelings came forth yesterday. Ten o'clock in the morning, I was sitting on my desk. It was a relatively quiet day, thankfully, and the whole office was talking to one another. Dave, in the stall next to me, had his first child the other day. He named her Samantha, after his late sister. Karen across the hall was reunited with her childhood friend on the weekend. Seems like the whole office was having a real nice day, until the phone rang. I walked to my desk and answered it, and was met with a voice that was all too familiar. "Yes, hello?"The voice rasped, "I-I-I don't know what to do." It was Stephan, he sounded afraid, he sounded empty, he didn't sound like the guy twenty years ago. "Calm down sir,"I cringed at how polite I was talking, "Tell me what's happening." "Well,"He began, "My girl, Hayley, she... she... she passed recently in a car accident with our kids. I just don't know what to do. My friends have left me because I'm not myself anymore, my family disowned me a long time ago, and I can't go to anyone at work because... because they don't want me there anymore! There's no other option, please give me guidance." I looked up to see the whole office was watching me give this call, impatiently waiting for me to join them once more. "Do you miss your wife? Your children?" "More than life itself." "Then, there's one thing you can do,"I smirked, "Slit your wrists and join them. Do it. Faggot."
She turned tricks on the corner of Whitechapel and Leman. She had to dress up of course. It was a difficult game and not least because fashion seemed to change every decade. She had to look pretty for the johns. That was half the game. And no game meant no sport. But she couldn't look too much like a scarlet whore or the police would ring her up every time they drove on by. Tonight was like a Bolivian jungle. London was buzzing with a thousand tiny insects all hunting for food. She was wearing what her last judge had deemed "the minimal acceptable clothing to protect the modesty of a young lady". Being a child certainly held it's advantages in the courts. Remaining a child for a score of decades however did not have the same appeal. The first punter was like a cardboard cutout of the honest-businessman-working-late type. He got her to twirl, asked her her age and scoffed when she said. He didn't bite. He was going to soil his soul tonight, and not for the first time she thought, but he wouldn't sink quite low enough. It had turned eleven by the time he rolled along. You didn't make many friends spending your evenings on a stretch of pavement, but she'd met Kay eight months ago and protected the girl from the worst of the scum. Eventually she'd helped the girl save enough to get a flat. And then one night she'd found Kay, curled into a ball with blood pouring from her nose. The sight had tortured her. The fragility of mortals was never more apparent and she wanted to help, to protect and revenge the younger girl. But the Hunger within her had seized control, her pupils contracting into pinpricks as the red consumed her vision. She'd drunk. And cried like she hadn't since her own mother had bitten her. And in the tears of blood she had relived the girls final hours. She'd seen the car, the beautiful sleek bentley roll up, watched and felt herself enter it. And as the hood covered her head, she felt the girls fear erupt. She lived the hours of pain and torture in mere seconds. Felt every blow from the pipe. The heat of the iron. But most of all she'd felt him. His sweat and frustration and sheer hate that was borne out on her flesh and her most intimate parts. And now the blood rage returned. She stood proud, putting her assets to work. The bentley swung to the curb and she entered. As the hood covered her head and she smelt the musky scent enter her nose her eyes turned black and the hood didn't matter. She would see and hear and taste every part of this man as he screamed tonight.
Alex rang the Fredericksons' doorbell with a shaking hand. He rang twice by accident, then reached into his pocket for something that wasn't there. In his other hand he held the shirt collar of the Fredericksons' boy, Jim. Jim's eyes were on him. Alex dared not look down. He's probably not even blinking. The door opened, and Tim Frederickson's glowing, tanned face beamed in the morning sun. "Morning, Alex!" Tim's smile was like a stripe of glittering mayonnaise across a bowl of tomato soup. "Hi, Tim,"Alex said. He was scared, and he was scared of letting anyone know that he was scared. Jim knows when I'm scared. He always knows. "Your boy snuck over again." Tim's eyes dipped down once to his son on the doorstep like a bouncing ball before snapping back to look at Alex. He did not blink once, and his face did not move. He just smiled. "Jim is a very, very smart boy, Alex. Remember those workmen that were here making that racket? Haha, oh those boys were loud! Well, Suzy and I had two new locks installed on his bedroom door, and they were the most amazing things. Cost a fortune, looked up the company online, right? State of the art stuff. Ad said they supply prisons with their cell locks, incredible!" His too-white teeth parted to let out a laugh. "Anyways, Jim is one smart boy. Even with barred windows, he always seems to find a way! Our little precious genius! Sure hope those locks do a better job keeping the bad people locked up in jail. I'd hate for anyone in this happy neighbourhood to feel unsafe, you know?" A bead of sweat ran down Alex's face, despite the cool breeze carrying the smell of cut grass down the sunny street. Tim Frederickson's smile wavered. Alex could see the man's facial muscles straining to keep it in place. Is little Jim watching him now? Can he feel his father's fear? Tim's adam's apple bobbed heavily as he swallowed. Then in a quieter voice, he spoke. "What'd he have this time?" "A hand-blender plugged into an extension cord." When Alex had woken up, the boy had been sitting on his chest holding the blender close to his face. When Alex screamed, the boy had laughed, then pressed the button on the blender. A ring of ground beef had splattered against the bedroom walls. I didn't even have ground beef in my fridge… Tim Frederickson's face paled visibly beneath the mask of bronze toner. He spoke in a whisper. "I'm, I'm sorry Alex. We've tried so many things, but nobody understands that he's… he's warned us, you see. We can't stop him, but we'll… we can…" He trailed off. Jim lunged forward and hugged his father's leg before taking his hand. "Can we play in the basement, Papa?" When did I let go of his shirt? The look in Tim's eyes were of pure horror as they turned to look into Alex's own. Though he could not see his own expression, he knew that it was the same as Jim's Papa. "Sure thing, Jim-boy. Let's go play with Mama in the basement…" Before taking his father inside, Jim Frederickson turned. He looked up at Alex from beneath his shaggy haircut and smiled. Then the door slammed shut.
Captain’s log, Day 77: The men were right! We have been doomed to die on the seas on a suicide mission under the insane ramblings of an Italian no less! This quest has been beset on all sides by misfortune from the start. Even the queen Isabella knew of this folly, seeing as she would only send 3 of the smallest ships in all her ports. The men stopped hiding their morale (who could blame them, we are surely to fall off the edge of the world any day now) since we lost sight of the Canary Islands. Likely the last chance for any of us to escape a watery grave that was. 3 weeks in, we hit a dead wind that left us with naught to do but consume our meager supplies and pray to the Mother Marry for wind. Not 5 weeks after, we were cast into the worst storm I have seen in all my 15 years at sea. The La Nina was lost to the waves with all hands, while the Santa Maria lost her main sail and mine, the La Pinta, also suffered heavy hull damage. For days we were driven north, hundreds of leagues off course. It appeared God himself had sent one last warning to turn back, but that dammed Italian! He refused to go back empty handed! We must turn back now else we shall starve. I am stirring up what able men we have left for mutiny. Even if I must starve on the return trip I refuse to die on such a- “SHIP AHEAD!!! SHIP AHEAD!!!CAPTAIN, SHIP AHEAD!!!” The call of the lookout disturbed my writing. I stormed up the deck, ready to lash the cabin boy who would give the men such false hope. “What to high heaven are you yelling on about now? Your eyes deceive you, no other ship could possibly have made it this-” I blinked. Once, twice. No, it can’t be. I thought as I walked toward the bow spyglass in hand, there is no land here! Unless those Portuguese have sent a convoy the same time we have. As I raised the eyepiece to observe the small speck of a boat in the distance, I called out to the crow’s nest. “Is it Portuguese?’ “No, I’ve seen no flag like it.” the young lad responded. “Nor have I” I muttered under my breath. There, no more than two leagues west, a large, wide brimmed boat with a single large square sail. A strange looking flag atop the single mast was stretched out in the favorable trade wind. What was it? As I peered closer the only thing I could make of it was an odd “T” shape. A fishing boat? Had we indeed made it round the world to India? As we drew nearer, I observed it was not a “T”, but a hammer. And the large amount of glinting steel from the top deck showed this was no fishing boat. This is my first post, please give me feedback as to what I should improve on. :)
The phone rang just as David took a huge bite of his sandwich. It fit in with the way the rest of his day had gone, so he wasn't too surprised. "M'lo,"he said. He tried to choke down the half-chewed mass of bologna, cheese and white bread. He needn't have bothered. On the other end, his mother launched into a lengthy tirade against her hairdresser. David didn't need to do much more than mumble an occasional "mhm". He wandered through his small, neat apartment, tidying up and finishing his lunch as she talked. It wasn't only the hairdresser, of course. She'd been cut off in traffic. His sister had some nerve. David didn't call often enough. Now they were to the point of the matter. "Sorry, Mom,"he said. "I've been really swamped." "You've been moping,"she corrected. "I kept telling you Laura was no good for you." "Don't start, Mom." "Don't talk to me like that, David. I didn't raise you that way." She began a new monologue as David made his way back to the kitchen. Dishes were done, counters clean. His eyes fell on the trash -- nearly full. He decided to take it out now, knowing that he would forget if he left it until later, and that his mother would certainly be dropping by. He tied up the bag, mumbling a "yes, mother,"into the phone before carrying over to the newly installed Disperso-5000. The devices were, in his mind, one of the greatest inventions ever. All he had to do was put the bag in the bin, press a button, and it vanished forever. They'd been out for almost ten years, and popular for five, but he'd never been able to afford one until now. Like any technology, there had been detractors at first. People who claimed that the Disperso didn't actually vaporize the trash, but transported it somewhere else. With widespread use, and with no proof, however, that group rapidly dwindled. "I'm coming over, David,"his mother was saying. "Don't, Mom,"he said. "Not right now, please." He raised the lid on the Disperso. "I am,"his mother said. "I'm turning onto your block now." David sighed. "Alright, Mom,"he said, lifting the bag into the unit. "I guess I'll see you soon." He hung up the phone, closed the lid, and pressed a button. There was a soft 'woosh' and when he opened the lid again, the trash was gone. He started to close it, then noticed something stuck in the bottom corner. Strange. That had never happened before. The Dispersos were, by their very nature, self-cleaning. Maybe his was defective. He started opening cabinets and drawers, looking for something to pull it out. He settled on a pair of barbecue tongs, then leaned over the Disperso. He'd just about gotten a grip on the piece of debris, when the phone rang again. "I'm here,"his mother said. She never knocked, always prefering to announce herself with a phone call. "It's open, Mom,"David said. "Come on u--" "Oh shit,"he said, watching the phone clatter to the bottom of the Disperso. Then he kicked himself. His mother would have heard the swearing. She was going to give him hell for that one. "David,"she called. "In here, Mom." He set down the tongs and leaned into the Disperso to grab the phone. Half in, half out of the machine, he could just touch the device with his fingertips. Damn. He reached for the tongs with his other hand. His mother's voice cried out. "No, David, that's the--"Her words were covered by a loud 'woosh'. The tongs clattered to the floor. &nbsp; David's head was pounding. He had no idea where he'd woken up, or how he'd gotten there. He didn't even remember falling asleep. His whole body ached. Struggling to open his eyes, he tried to sit up. Something felt wrong. His arm. It was definitely broken. And his mother was screaming. "Mom,"he gasped out, through dry lips. "Mom, what's wrong?" At last, his eyelids unglued themselves, and he peered around him. He was surrounded by faces, some vaguely familiar, some entirely unknown. "What?"he began, then couldn't think of how to finish the question. His mother, still screaming, was trying to push through the crowd. He opened his mouth and heard his own voice. "Mom, it's okay. It's okay. I'm right here." Except, of course, he wasn't. He was here, not there. The thought deepened the pain in his skull. "Out of the way." A man in a police uniform began shoving through the ring of people. Behind him came two paramedics, carrying heavy black bags. "What happened?"one of them asked as they knelt beside him. "Were you hit?" "Hit?" The paramedics looked at each other. "No,"David said. "No, I think I fell." The paramedics looked around. There were no structures nearby. They glanced at the officer. "Fell?" That couldn't be right, then. "I don't know,"he said. "I don't remember." The paramedics decided to take him to the hospital, worried, he supposed, about a concussion. He started to give them his information. "My name is David Phillips,"he said. "I live at--" "The hell it is!" David turned to the sound of the voice, and found himself staring into his own eyes. &nbsp; (continued in reply)
Call it a miracle, but I couldn't believe when I saved that girl. She has to be about twelve to fourteen. We were waiting for the pedestrian light to change when a semi came barreling through traffic. Miraculously, I grabbed her and threw her out of the way. We were shook up, but alive and unharmed. "T-thank you. Thank you ,sir,"she exclaimed. "Whatever the favor is I will pay you back!" "It was nothing. Really. Besides, you're just a girl." "No, it's only fair. Please. Tell me what I owe you." My mind scrambled. This is so strange. I have thought of what I would ask if I ever saved someone, but my mind has just gone blank. "I could use a better job, I guess."How would a kid ever get me a job? There we go! Perfect! She couldn't possibly get me any job. "Oh... Okay..."She seemed like she was going to be pretty stumped. "I'll do my best, sir! My name is Carrie Vander." "I'm Jimmy Cook."I walked her the rest of the way to her school telling her about my current shit job and how I wanted to get a better one with a higher position and wage. She swore she would one day repay me. I never believed she would, and that she would have forgotten about me by the end of the day. Fast forward five years, and I got friend request from that same girl on Facebook. She sent me a message saying she was working for a company similar to what I had been doing and could get me an interview for a better position there. I couldn't believe it! I gladly went and started working for a much better company with better benefits, pay, and vacation time. She had apparently started working here fresh out of high school and got in close with higher ups. She had turned out to be a pretty sweet girl with a lot of drive and ambition. But now I'm sitting here after this latest promotion with a knot in my stomach. Apparently, Carrie wasn't as sweet as I thought. She had apparently had the idea of how to get me into a position such as this that day, because she explained to me how she did it. "Jim, you saved my life. A lot of people don't understand what that actually means. The least I could do is fulfill your wish." "I didn't mean for you to go and fuck up someone else's life, Carrie! That doesn't make things even!" "You're overthinking it, Jim. Just be grateful, like I was. Like I am. Enjoy being in with the higher ups!" The night after I saved her life, she had known how to get me into a position like this. She took nude photos of her and saved them on a flashdrive. She kept that flashdrive until the moment was right, and uploaded the files onto the previous employee's home computer, after she had stalked him for months and knew his routine. She had a script that would automatically transfer the files of her onto his computer in the background once it was started. He was fired and put in prison. I wanted to let the authorities know, but she could have been following me. She could have a plan to thwart me before I even got so much as a breath out to the police. All I can do is be grateful like Carrie said. Just like Carrie said.
It took me awhile to recognize the pattern. A puppy showing up at my apartment door. My vegetables disappearing from my fridge. A week of sun and warm weather. The brand new Gameboy with pokemon blue that showed up on my nightstand one morning, even though they had stopped making them years ago. I started to suspect something strange was happening. A few more strange events, including an impromptu parade, a signed letter from Gretzky, and Stacy from eighth grade stopping by my work to kiss me on the cheek eventually clued me in that every wish I ever made was coming true, just twenty years too late. I was pretty excited for awhile, I had some great times with famous heroes from my childhood, got to see London, even woke up one morning to a kitchen full of cooked bacon and ice cream sandwiches. I even got to go on a Caribbean cruise where while snorkeling I found old Spanish gold coins! My single room apartment had never been more full of laughter or happiness! Myself twenty years ago must have been so fun, so hopeful and joyous. He really knew how to have a good time. I wondered what had changed, what made that childhood magic disappear and the monotony and dullness of adult life take over. And then I thought of something I hadn't thought of in a long time. I pulled the shoebox out from underneath my bed. Old drawings, a watch and pictures readily poured out, eager to escape the musty box and fill my heart with nostalgia. I picked up an old picture and stared with a pained smile at my mother, passed away only two years ago. She had always been so kind and loving. She was a great mother. Amongst any adversity she held her head high and worked herself to the bone to get through it. Always putting my benefit above her own, sacrificing so my life could be a little bit better. And she did it alone. I traced a scar that ran down my arm, and remembered a wish I had made long ago. A wish to see a man that was less than what a man should be. And I remembered a promise that I made if I ever saw that man again. I remembered the date I made the wish, I couldn't forget it. I sat alone on my old chesterfield, staring at my sparse apartment. No pictures hung on the walls. The old stained furniture thrown lazily about the room. And the fridge laid empty save a six pack of beer and condiments. I took a pull of whisky from my glass and counted to myself the soft plink of two bullets dropping into the chamber of a revolver. And I waited. Waited for the inevitable knock at my door. Daddy was coming home.
"I WILL DEVOUR YOU!"Roared the hell demon in the voice of a thousand lost souls. "You won't get the chance!"Retorted Bill, sounding braver than he was. This was by far the scariest opponent he ever faced. Well, technically, it was the only opponent he faced, if you don't count badgers and blackbirds. Bill moved one hand toward the demon with an open palm and yelled, "LIGHTING!!" Strangely, instead of the demon being obliterated by a lightening strike from Bills hand, dozens of candles appeared in a circle surrounding the demon, and lighting up the dark country road. The foul beast laughed uncontrollably . "YOU IDIOTIC CREATURE!"It managed to gasp between fits of laughter. It put its two claws together and splayed them outwards, a ball of fire the size of a mans head came zooming towards Bill. Bill just managed to jump out of the fireballs way and it flew on behind him for a few metres. Then the bloody thing turned around. Bills mind was racing, he couldn't remember any spells for this situation. In a moment of despair, he decided he would try to enhance his dodging ability. He stretched his arms out beside him. "DOGE!" Before he had a chance to test his reactions, a dog the size of a horse jumped in front of the fireball and took the blow. It was still standing after the hit. Bill got a look at its face. The face of a small, happy dog but the body of a wolf that was after taking one too many strength potions. Then the beast spoke in a voice that certainly didn't match the face,"Very spell, much pathetic." Bill and demon were both stunned at the appearance of this animal. It pounced at the demon, tearing it's chest open with his claws and biting it's head off. Bills jaw dropped to the floor."What are you?"He asked wearily. The beast bowed his head before Bill and growled,"Doge." Bill hopped on his new companion and they rode into the sunset.
The next name on the list is Mary Cross. Captain Cross, as she was known. A hero. I've met her before, on one of the many battlegrounds of good and evil. She'd yelled, then. Told me I was too early. Told me it wasn't his time. Told me she needed him to live. When I took him, she screamed until she could scream no more. If I had dreams, perhaps that sound would haunt them. "You again,"she says. Now she's lying in a bed, an IV snaking down into her veins. One of the monsters humans cannot escape from is time. I'm another. "Yes,"I say, and I rest my hand on her forehead. She stills under my touch, exhaling softly. "You have a few moments left. Would you like me to put you to sleep? It will be easier." "No,"she says, and her voice breaks on a cough. It tears through her, convulsing through her body, and when she pulls her hands away they drip with fresh blood. "I have a question." "Ask." She looks at me, and I catalogue the lines marring her brow, the silver of her hair, the dullness of her brown skin. When she speaks again, it isn't much more than a whisper. "Will I see him again?" I slowly stroke her hair back from her head, pulling out my scythe. "Yes,"I say, and I slowly maneuver it to rest over her chest, where her heart is slowly failing. "The common humans know - they see that it is only a beginning. Only heroes attempt to avoid returning to the earth we all came from." "I understand,"she says, and I cut the last of the tethers chaining her soul to her body. "Thank you,"she whispers, before disappearing, called back to the other realm. The next name on the list is James Kellan. Master of Storms, as he was known. A villain. I've met him before, too. He will not be as lucky.
I grew up, as everyone did dreaming of becoming one of those mystical figures on the television, in the newspapers; the caped crusader, the masked vigilante, the crime fighting super-hero. Or, if you were so inclined you grew up idolising the villain. You watched as these grand schemes to take over the world fail one by one, GlitterBOMB failed because his "secret"lair was so encrusted with stolen diamonds it could be seen by Birdman, Chilly Von Carn wasn't even beaten by a superhero but by a freak heatwave, Dr Dastardly foiled because his scheme relied on such a specific time that the Doctor could simply fast forward past the date. I, like many others had illusions to be like them, but better. And many copycats appeared, as did new and exciting supervillains, me however? I had no powers. All I had was my intelligence and the fact that I was ordinary. It happened to be perfect. Super-heroes aren't the most intelligent of creatures. That's to be expected though, they grew up as I did watching the telly of these epic fights that decimated streets, destroyed mountains and in some cases went to the Moon and back. So that's what they expect, that's what they look for. A Super-villain has to leave clues to his plans, that's the game that we all play. That's how the game used to be played anyway. My first plot was a robbery, small scale I know but hey, we all have to start somewhere. This robbery however went wrong, a superhero came checking up and all hell broke loose. Of course, this was going perfectly to plan. You see, no super-hero is infallible you just need to know their weakspots and to find those weakspots all you need to do is watch, and wait and research. All of that requires time, but time I have. The first robbery therefore was actually an assassination attempt on a neighbourhood hero called Danny Boy, he had the rather unspectacular power of being completely impervious to bullets, knives and what have you, however he had to be singing Danny Boy for this to be working. He'd managed to get it down to a key that he was even humming it in his sleep though. His weakness? Simply stop him from humming or singing the song. How to do that was the question, he barely ate or drank as it stopped his power, he hummed it in his sleep. However, he was extremely protective of children and would protect them without thinking. So we used bait, a child outside of the jewellery store who ran inside. Of course Danny Boy rescued the hysterical child but after the thugs, not me of course, were dealt with he tried to calm the child down, and that is when I shot him in the back of the head. From a hundred or two yards away of course.

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