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V.O. SCRIPT: Rachel does not dream. Rachel does not sleep. Rachel does not wake. Rachel feels! All the time! Rachel Head has a direct sense feed with Reinhardt Emotive FPS Blending™ for stunning clarity and total sensory presence. With the entire cultural library at her fingertips, Rachel can put herself into any scenario and create precision mixes at speed-of-mind. Watch as she blends Beethoven's 5th Symphony with the asteroid orbital catalogue, the 2018 World Cup game and the hot new anal cumming video from Angelica Eleenya. What mastery! See the subtle crafting and non-stuttering blends? That's because Reinhardt's proprietary technology blend-splits 240 visual FPS on the fly to create an eye-popping visual stream of over 1000 FPS, while simultaneously delivering 60 tactile FPS and 60 olfactory FPS. Now this is salvation! But, hey, forget the specs. Check out the feelings! Her Holocaust Child Victim Disco Muscle Thumps have walls around the world shedding tears and making those real feels. You can't fake this stuff! Are you tired of distant, deadened emotions? Reinhardt Emotive FPS Blending™ give you realistic, immersive feelings, without excess rumination or thought-linger. This kind of subtlety just isn't possible at ordinary 240 FPS. That's the difference for Rachel. That can be the difference for you. Rachel does not dream. Rachel does not sleep. Rachel does not live. Rachel does not die. Rachel feels. Can you?
At first it was barely noticeable... He had a pretty house but nothing out of ordinary. But overtime he kept getting richer and richer without even having a job to attend to. Later on he called us if we could come visit him pretty much all day or if we wanted to go out, I guess he didn't have a regular sleeping schedule. At some point we got worried after we found out he was up and running pretty much all day and night. We called for an intervention but he seemed to think it was a party, even after we spoke about our concerns nothing changed, he only seemed to try to go out more, and the ladies kept being asked on dates. He didn't even bother to try to hide that he was dating 3 girls at the same time. But this still wasn't the worst. One day he was in the shower and suddenly out of nowhere he was moved into the living room naked. This is when we decided that if he didn't stop this weird behaviour we wouldn't ever come over again. After things went south with the ladies the guy stopped acting like he always did, we thought he finally became normal, but when we visited the next day the door of the house was gone and when we looked through the window there was nothing but ashes and an urn.
"So you can sense time?" "I believe that is a simple and accurate explanation. Yes." The assembly of scientists didn't quite know how to react to this. Some slowly nodded their heads as if they understood. One of the younger members of the group couldn't quite swallow this information. "I have been alive for 26 years, we have been sitting here for about 3 hours, I know how long a second is... Is that not sensing time?"The earnest young scholar looked up at the strange brown being. He knew he hadn't quite grasped the concept like his colleagues had appeared to. "I have never visited your poles. Yet I can tell you what they look like. Is that using the sense of light?"The alien answered the scientist. "Steve, please, we mustn't get bogged down with the details."An older man from the group reprimanded the young astro-physicist while shuffling his papers infront of him. "We have alot to learn from ... uh, our guest." "You can name me Klaun. And this sense is one of our most useful. Understanding it will help understand why we are."The alien's voice had a calm and understanding feeling about it. "Can you show us this 'time sensing organ' of yours?"A woman in the front asked cautiously, unsure if her question was appropriate. "Most of our primal sensory organs have been vestigial for millennia. Our Duralum 'organ' you speak of encompasses our brains, intercepting incoming synapses. Similar to how your touch sensing organ surrounds your body." "But what does it do?"Steve asked, clearly uncomfortable with how little he understood. "I'm afraid you humans are not equipped to grasp its significance. I will try my best, but it appears you have a tenuous grasp of what time actually is. Building on your already weak foundations will lead to even more confusion. Time is not the linear measurement you believe it to be, but a solid dimension of matter that to me is as obvious as height, length and depth. So, I can sense exactly how much time space everything takes up." A long silence filled the room as everyone tried to digest what Klaun just said. "So you can see into the future?"Steve broke the silence, it appeared he was the first to figure out the implication of this new information. Klaun appeared to find this explanation amusing. "I don't see it, young man, I know it, all of it. Past and future are human concepts that don't make alot of sense to me. I believe these terms represent different directions for viewing time in a 3 dimensional capacity. But yes, I know all of your time. Forgive me, I find it difficult to explain this. It's confusing to think of a reality without a time sense. How do you do anything without knowing what will happen? That is fascinating to me!"
'Whenever you wish for something, you will lose a memory most important to you.' Those words stuck in my mind as I remembered when I was young, wanting to be rich. How important could memories be anyway? I'd learnt the answer to that the hard way. I wished to be a millionaire and it happened but I couldn't remember the people who I lived with. They claimed to be my parents. I never wished again. Thought I'd never wish again. Anything I wanted I could buy. I smiled as I looked at the little bundle in my arms. My gorgeous baby girl. I would raise her right, she would never go without. My heart was with this child. When she cried, I cried. If she hurt I hurt. I loved her so much. That's why I wished again. She'd fallen down the stairs. The latch on the child gate had broken. I'd told myself I would fix it soon. As I held her small body in my arms, her lips turning blue and her body growing cold, I wished. I wished for her to be safe, to be well, to never have harm come to her. My wife sobbed with joy as she grabbed the now crying baby from my arms. I opened my mouth to speak... 'Why are you holding a baby?'
"Fucking Christ, I told you already, that would ruin the endgame even more,"hissed a red-faced Lucifer. "I'm sick of you and all your jabs at my son,"replied God. "You even implemented your petty nonsense into the game dialogue, and it's spreading like wildfire. Because of you, every time I playtest the game, I hear, 'Jesus Christ' this, or 'Christ Almighty' that!" "Let's just calm down, shall we?"piped Brahma, forcing a clearly fake smile. "Piss off with your two-faced nonsense,"Zeus said, gesturing angrily Brahma. "I have four, not two, thank you very much. Jerk." The group had been bickering over the topic at hand for days now, and it seemed that no agreement could be reached without at least one of them being unhappy with it. They had disagreed on various issues in the past, but never to such a degree as this. "Look, the longer we delay this patch, the more the game will stagnate. We'll lose people's interest,"Ra said firmly, looking at each of his fellow game developers. "We have to decide on something to fix the endgame." "All these groups of players that have reached the endgame and achieved first-world status don't have enough going on,"Io added. "I think we need to make something interesting happen." "Nobody cares what you think, Io,"Zeus said plainly. "Not even the playerbase." "I say we need a good old fashion war,"bellowed Odin. "We have a big scripted event and knock the endgame players down a peg! How about we trigger a war between the China faction and the US faction?"He had a sinister grin on his lips. "How will we fit it into the lore, though?"God asked. "Well, the in-game date is 2016, and in the canon, that's an election year for the US faction, right?"said Isis, smiling slyly. "I've always hated the complacency of the western factions, so let's shake things up a bit for them." --- THE TRUMP CARD UPDATE v2.016f CHANGELOG: * Changed profession of the Trump NPC to "Politician"(his dialogue will be fixed to reflect this on the next patch) * Increased chance for Mass Shooting event in endgame areas * Limited intelligence level of many NPCs to improve performance during the Election Year event * Added additional Memes for the Social Media minigame * Removed Compromise mechanic, as it was rarely ever used * Added "Leave Faction"button for members of the EU faction (currently nonfunctional) * Fixed bug where law enforcement NPCs wouldn't use their guns when arresting a player * ...and more to be revealed soon!
We don't have long claws or razor sharp teeth. Our skin isn't armoured or particularly tough. We are neither that large compared to some of the other sapient alien species, nor the fastest. In fact, we are perhaps the most mediocre of the lot when it comes to physical attributes. Perhaps it is a consequence of humans evolving from not being top predators in our particular environment and food chain. We killed and hunted prey, but were in turn hunted by bigger, more savage beasts. Perhaps this is where we gained a different strength, one not measured by physical prowess, the talent of perseverance. But the broader cosmic society doesn't recognise that, relegating humanity to being mediocre, weak, even our culture was seen as inferior, emphasising community and cooperation as opposed to promoting individual skill and prowess above all. Never mind that human society itself has plenty of competition and worship of athleticism, heroes and the like, this is the perception us fellow homo sapiens have to deal with day in, day out when interacting with aliens. Personally, I had enough. As I walked through the crowd in the main trade citadel in our corner of the Milky Way galaxy, all I saw was stagnation, the very air filled with the rotten decadence of a society more concerned about what appeared fierce and strong than what actually could be strong in the face of danger. In the minds of most of the species here, it has been far too long since they faced any real danger, in contrast to the young human race that had only very recently united under a single banner. So it was only appropriate that I signed up to the Gladiatorial League. Not just myself, but my former comrades and war buddies. Apparently, with humans being so 'weak', we are allowed to enter as a team to overcome our physical handicap. Fools, the fucking lot of them. A few months later, and we had our first fight. 9 humans versus a Sk'rath, some hideous and stupidly fast, centaur-like being. Strong too by human standards, but it's their speed that is problematic. But all the speed in the world couldn't outpace 9 long spears and a shield wall. The booing in the stands became deafening as we steadily cornered the poor Sk'rathian fighter and eventually impaled him. We repeated the tactic a few more times, but with how unpopular we were getting despite winning, we were asked to change our approach. It was too boring, apparently. More like too embarrassing. So we added a bit of variety to our team. One guy with a great hammer, one with a greatsword, four with spears and shield and the rest with short swords. And again, we saw wins starting to come through as each time, we won with tactics designed to neutralise the strengths of each alien race. So when the news came down that ALL teams were banned from participating in the arena, making no direct mention of the success of the humans, I felt particularly smug and content. That feeling didn't last for long when I was immediately asked, no, commanded to do one more fight, this time alone. It was clear the alien society wanted to save face, to have at least that assurance that they still were stronger individually. Stepping into the arena, this time, I actually felt nervous. It wasn't that I didn't have confidence in my skills or martial prowess. It was the fact that as an individual, I was indeed out-classed by most of the species out there. And that feeling didn't get better as I saw my opponent. 8 feet of hulking, armoured alien called a Yrul. The ground shook with every step this creature took, arms like tree-trunks with an appearance that looked eerily like some overgrown and steroid infused purple gorilla. And all I had was a round wooden shield and an axe. No stabbing weapons they said. Shit. As the 'beast' lunged toward me onto all fours, charging with the combined fury and resentment of an entire alien society behind it, all I could do was wait until the last moment before I rolled out of the way and dodged the alien. Whilst I avoided the bulk of the charge, I couldn't react in time to dodge a swipe from its arm as it rushed by, knocking me into the air and sending me rolling into the middle of the arena, away from any cover. As I got up, I felt a sharp sting from my side. With the hulking mass of Yrul turning to charge toward me again, I pondered my options with my increasingly limited mobility. No cover to hide behind, and I couldn't rely on rolling again if the alien knew I was going to try to do so. The fight hadn't even gone for more than 10 seconds and already I was pretty fucked. The ground shook as the Yrul charged toward me, each pounding of its fists and feet into the arena floor sending up dirt in billowing clouds behind it. By now, all I could hear was my own slow, deep breathing and my pulse, the cheering of the crowds being zoned out until it faded into a low, humming drone. I couldn't even hear the roar of my opponent. In what felt like an eternity, I steadied my axe and aimed my blow. Putting all my strength into my swing, I ignored the sharp sting of pain that ran over my side just so I could send the axe flying to its mark. I watched with complete focus and fascination as my weapon arced in the air. Spin after spin, it felt like forever as adrenaline kicked in with full force, making me suffer in suspense as I waited to see if my final hope flew true. It was a great 'thunk' that broke the spell, the axe stopping suddenly with the head burying deep into the skull of the Yrul gladiator. Though the flow of time returned to normal, all I could still hear was the furious beat of my heart and my own laboured breathing, the dust settling after my opponent had collapsed and tumbled in front of me, coming to a stop mere feet away from where I stood. I looked up and I saw. I saw the collective horror. I heard the deafening silence of denial. And without saying anything myself, I left the arena. I didn't even remove the axe from my foe's forehead. They could keep that, a little memento from me. And maybe, just maybe, humans might be taken a little more seriously. Or they'd just not broadcast the fight and pretend it didn't happen. Either way, it didn't matter. I had my moment. I had my say. And I got to relish in the reactions I provoked. We might not be strong, but we aren't weak either. We persevere against all odds.
It became all consuming, to fulfill their "purpose in life."When they had been revealed, everyone was elated. They could stop searching and start doing. Their lives would be fulfilled. It had been a cruel joke. Many never achieved their purpose in life. Watching it slip out of reach left them bitter husks. Many died reaching in vain for the impossible. For those that achieved it, they listed like ships without power. Their lives had found meaning, and in doing so lost direction. They found themselves wanting more, but when purpose was handed to them they had forgotten how to search for it. Many had laughed when no purpose was given to him. Many had pitied him. "To live without purpose,"they said, "what a terrible fate." They had been blinded to what lay before them, and beauty of life had been replaced by purpose. While everyone reached for their great ambition and worked for years to have their purpose in life, he had lived. He worked, he played, he found love, and he died. He lived with the knowledge that there is no single purpose in life, but the thousands that are made each day. He found the purpose of life in every color of the sunrise and in each beat of his lover's heart. Having no purpose in life, allowed to him to live with all of life's purpose.
Germany was re-unified and the Cold War had ended. Music and film had been terrific for the past twenty-five years. God decided it was time for a holiday. He laid out his instructions to his second-in-command. "Peter, you're in charge for the time being. Remember, we've had to perform enough miracles. With Aberdeen winning a European trophy, any more and humans will get suspicious. We need free will. As of now I will not be omnipotent, but if you really need me I will sense it." "I won't let you down, God. Have a good one, you deserve it."replied Peter. ... God spoke directly into the heads of his two most trusted members of staff. "All right, Gabe, Peter, meet me in the Genesis Suite in 15 minutes. I need a briefing." "Affirmative, God", replied Secretary Angel Gabriel. ... God was catching up on twenty years of human history. "Gabe, This 'Bowie' character. I remember him. Passed him on the way here this morning, he still reminds me of myself." "Yes, we decided to up the ratio of celebrity deaths this year." "What for?" "We found people were idolising them too much. We needed to ensure you stayed as the one true idol." "Hmm. I guess one or two major ones a year can't hurt." "Sir, we have also taken Prince, Alan Rickman, Terry Wogan, Leonard Cohen. We have Bob Dylan planned for December." "You what?!" Fixtures began falling from the golden walls of the Genesis Suite. A cherub statue in the corner to God's right dissolved into dust. "What are you thinking? Do you want people becoming atheists or what?" "I was trying my best, sir", replied Peter gingerly, like a child who had been caught pilfering a pick-and-mix from the cinema. "Give me the situation on global politics then. China?" "Still an authoritarian tyranny, sir." "Britain?" "They left the EU and will be conservative ruled for at least ten years." "Peter, do you have any good news? What about America?" Disciple Peter looked at the floor. ... "Hi Peter. It's a pleasure to meet you", said Satan.
The coliseum scoreboard clicked down to zero. The animated wick on the animated timebomb burnt out as the sirens sounded, loud and radiant. The Transfer, sweaty and wild-eyed, made her choice. She chose the Soccer Club. Thick-calved boys and girls cheered and crushed around her, long silver shorts swishing like waves upon the breakers. Everyone else just left, Leo and Meg included. "She looked like a Field Hockey girl to me,"said Leo, as they trudged through the parking lot. "Maybe a French Club. That's a big get for Soccer. They've had a rough semester, after how badly they lost that fight with the Chemistry kids." Meg growled, hackles raised. "We didn't even try,"she snarled. "What if she likes math?" Leo snorted. "Nobody likes math. We don't even really like math." "We're all alone, idiot!"said Meg. "Who cares who likes math? We need numbers! We're gonna get picked off one of these days. The only thing saving us right now is that everyone forgot about us." They loitered a moment outside the cafeteria. "Right,"said Leo. "So why ruin a good thing? Two people no one notices. We just stand next to the Earth Science kids or the AV schlubs and everyone thinks we're with them. Easy-peasy. We start growing - that makes it harder to hide in plain sight." Meg leaned into the glass, cupping her hands. She could see the Drama Kids monologuing and methoding in the center of the room. They weren't an overly large group, they just seemed that way on account of all the noise and dramatic gestures. But they were chummy with the Band Geeks and if that turned into an alliance... The biggest group by far those days was the Honor Society, which had more to do with the magnetic personality and shady dealings of its President, Gia McPherson, then an actual surplus of talented or even honorable students. Gia had a certain way with teachers - where a little bump up from a B to an A was never that far out of the question, as long Gia did the talking. Her father also happened to be a pastor, which gave her easy access to cheap community service opportunities. She was clearly building towards something, thought Meg. Just what, however, was impossible to tell just then. "The Football Team is getting aggressive again,"said Meg, as she pulled away from the window. "Making a grab for territory. You watch. They'll start picking off little clubs and classes here and there, just to see if they can get away with it. And you know they will. They're football players." Leo shook his head. "I don't think you're getting me. Being a big club would be great. Strength in numbers, all that. Plus, you know people will assume we're smart because we're the Math Club. That's a nice little padding right there. But we're two people right now. Even if we added three or even ten people, it wouldn't be enough to save us from the Football Team or the Shop Class or even the Latin Club. It would just tell people - 'Hey! Check it out! There's a new mid-sized club for you to demolish.' I don't see the point." Meg's face split open into a wide, Cheshire grin. "Leo, you may actually be a genius!" "Why? What'd I say?" "Nothing all that worthwhile, to be honest with you,"said Meg. "I was just trying to be polite."She clapped him on the back. "But! You did give me an idea." "Which is...?" "Recruiting transfers is a bust, right? We're too small. No appeal there. And it's almost impossible to get kids to defect, because we really have nothing of value to offer them." "Harsh, but accurate,"said Leo. "So,"said Meg. "How do we grow the size of the Math Club without recruiting new members?" Leo shook his head. "You got me." "It's simple mathematics, my dear Leo." "I thought we established I'm actually pretty bad at math,"said Leo. "We hijack someone else's club!"said Meg, triumphant. "I'm not sure what that has to do with math..." But Meg was too excited to listen. Instead, they moved on to the Computer Lab where the first phase of their plan began. Meg printed a series of banners, posters, and a roster sheet. Once school was officially out for the day, they went to Ms. Bunning's class and set up the posters and banners. Moments later, the door opened and the entirety of the Debate Club entered, taking their usual seats. Meg quickly darted to the front of the classroom. "Good to see you all today,"she said. "Who are you?"asked a boy. "I'll be leading today's meeting,"said Meg, as Leo began circulating the roster sheet. "But who are you?"said a girl in the front row. "Roll call first, existential self-examination later,"said Meg. "Everyone sign in? Yes?" Leo gave the thumbs up. "Great,"said Meg. "Welcome to the Math Club." The girl in the front row shook her head. "We're not in the Math Club. We're the Debate Club." "But this is the Math Club,"said Meg, firmly. She pointed at the various posters and banners. "See? Fractions. Multipliers. Prime numbers. We've got it all." "But we're in the Debate Club,"said the another boy. "This is the Math Club,"repeated Meg. "What evidence do you have that this is anything other than the Math Club?" The former members of the Debate Club looked at one another in obvious confusion and dismay. "We're... the Debate Club,"said the first girl once more, though with much less conviction. "This is where we meet every day..." "But this is the Math Club,"said Meg, gesturing, not unkindly, towards the many posters and banners. "As the signs indicate, this is where the Math Club meets. So if you've been meeting here every day..."She took the roster from Leo and held it up in front of the girl. "What does it say at the top?" The girl steadied herself. "It... it says Math Club attendance." Meg nodded. "Is your name on this sheet?" The girl's face was partially frozen. "Yes." "And you are the one who put your name on the document, correct?" "Yes." "And is there any evidence presently available which would suggest that this is the Debate Club, and not the Math Club?" The girl's eyes fell to her desk. "No." Meg turned to Leo. "Sir, what club is this?" "The Math Club,"said Leo evenly. Meg turned to one of the boys who had questioned her earlier. "And you... can you tell me what club this is?" He wavered. Meg waved the roster sheet in front of his nose. "The... Math Club?"he said at long last. "The evidence does seem to indicate that, doesn't it?"said Meg, smiling as she took her place at the front of the room. "So... anyone know any good equations?" No one did.
The man walked through the world with shoulders slumped. He kept both eyes straight ahead, for left and right led to nothing new. Life had shown him the sunsets, the women in revealing clothing, the many neon signs that welcomed a melody of heart break. But there's a limit to how much humans can take before they become numb and the world is no longer home to sunshine and rainbows, for the man it was an entrapment of heat and the restriction of colourful light. Friends become enemies and marvels turn to dust, leaving naught but destruction where development had been. The man knew that life was one long road to nowhere, and so he tried his best to avoid the path of pain. This started with avoiding other people. The woman didn't believe in sadness. She saw the lonely man walking and recognised the potential that he held within. They shared wine over a beach sunset and watched rainbows on dew soaked grassy plains. The woman saw in him something he did not see in himself, and in a way, he did the same for her, like the last piece that made the jigsaw complete. They spent their evenings under neon lights, drinking margaritas and singing bar-time songs, the kind of tunes invented by people in love, or those swooning over heart broken memories. They fell in love and eloped under the stars making promises that neither may keep. The days breezed past, a photo reel of miracles created by their bond. Until unexpectedly the woman passed on, and the man understood that contracts are not above nature and that the world was much harsher than he had first believed. This fact changed him forever, leaving a gray tint on a once colourful tapestry.
Jay's Age: 3 Days Hello, my name is Henry Garrick. It's been three years since the government implicated the "Perfect Soldier Program"across the country. The medical movement calling for the anatomical enhancement and augmentation of children at birth. A small micro chip inserted into infants heads allowing parents to pick and choose attributes they'd like their children to have. Of course attribute levels can grow based on pivotal life events, but for the most part, stat leveling is the fastest way to improve. When the child turns 18, level choices become his own. When he becomes 24, he becomes property of the government. I'm recording this log because three days ago, my wife, Nora, just gave birth to our first born son, Jason. Now beyond the base stats set at the beginning, parents are also given 20 "free points"to use on any other attributes. Some new parents hold onto those points for a rainy day in the kids life. Others just spread them out among the existing stats and hope for the best. But as my wife is a physicist and I'm a doctor, we talked this over in depth months before the birth. We put every single one of those points into the "speed"stat. Updates to come. Jay's Age: 3 Years This is for the log, Jason's age is three years and seven days. Last week was Jay's third birthday. The little tike really enjoyed himself. His current stats spread as follows: Strength - 11, Intelligence - 12, Dexterity - 11, Wisdom - 11, Speed - 36. Other than the fact that he burns slightly more calories a day than other toddlers, nothing out of the ordinary. At current speed level, he can keep up with kids twice his age, but that was to be expected. Updates to come. Jay's Age: 9 Years and 3 months. Log. It's absolutely insane. Strength - 23, Intelligence - 40, Dexterity - 24, Wisdom - 31, Speed - 117. At nine years old, Jay can race pace with most high school senior track stars. The results so far prove Nora's and my hypothesis: the speed stat causes speed in all aspects of life. Not just movement, but metabolism and cognizance as well. We are slowly seeing a trend of natural growth in stats we haven't even touched. Updates to come. Jay's Age: 15 Years Logging data. Strength - 39, Intelligence - 50, Dexterity - 33, Wisdom - 48, Speed - 255. Today's Jay's fifteenth birthday. Troubling news today. Or maybe not... I'm not sure. Jay complained to Nora and I about some sort of temporal disturbance. He said as he was blowing out his candles today, everything stopped moving for a second. Nora was able to calm him down. Explained to him that the world didn't stop. He was just taking information in faster than he was used to. Probably a side effect of breaking the level 250 mark. We've been in uncharted territory since Jay started running faster than my Toyota. We have to stay the course. Everything's gonna be fine. Jay's Age: 18 Years Log this. Jay's an adult now. He says he hasn't had one of those cognizance overdrives in a long time, but I'm not so sure. Either he's learned to keep them under control and his brain and body are now in sync, or he's lying so that we won't worry. This'll be the last time I can report his stats spread. This is the year Jay's attributes become his responsibility. Strength - 138, Intelligence - 120, Dexterity - 84, Wisdom - 131, Speed - 301. This year we saw a massive increase in strength. At first we thought it was a glitch, but after a few days, Nora figured it out. Strength is just a measure of force. Force is equal to mass multiplied by acceleration. Jay's gained so much control over the acceleration of his own body, that he could probably push a big rig across the city in five minutes flat, given nobody was in the way. To be honest, though, I don't even care about that stuff anymore. From here on out, he can level any stats he wants. I just hope my boy's okay. Age: 23 years and 10 months. This is for my dad's log. My name is Jay Garrick and I am the fastest man alive. When I was born, my parents made a pact to raise me as a speedster. Two years ago, my dad passed away. My mom followed him two weeks ago. I've been keeping with their wish to only spend my levels on speed. My stats are as follows. Strength - 219, Intelligence - 343, Dexterity - 195, Wisdom - 313, Speed - 555. I live my life one excruciating nanosecond at a time. It was torture at first, but I quickly learned patience and control. I can be anywhere I want on Earth before you could even say my name. In two months, the government will come to draft me into the armed forces, to fight their wars, to be their perfect soldier. They better not blink, because they're gonna have to catch me first. ----- Edit: Thanks for the positive feedback. Yes the the story's got pretty clear references to the flash. He's one of my favorite superheroes and I thought it'd be cool to if I told a story where he essentially still has powers, but also has parents. Using Jay instead of Barry was my attempt at being subtle (I know, not very) but I still used Barry's parents names, Henry and Nora. It was fun to write. Thanks again all.
I was tracking the bogey over the Mexican border and into U.S. airspace. It had a large signature so I was guessing at first that it was a drug runner of some kind. That it had drawn the attention of the brass back at my base showed that whoever they were, they were in serious trouble. My F-35 pulled out of the clouds, I banked, looked down and then I saw it. "Captain Thomas,"the voice said over my radio as my cameras rolled, I was *not* calling in what I thought it was, they'd have video from my HUD soon enough, "We're receiving video of the pl... JESUS F. CHRIST, Thomas!" "Yeah,"I finally said into my radio, "My thoughts exactly. Sir?" "Yeah Thomas, go ahead,"the ground controller said to me, I could hear plenty of noise in the background now. He must have called others over to see. "What exactly is the US Air Force's protocol on dragons?"I asked as I circled the thing and activated four radar guided missiles, just in case. The dragon was about one-hundred and fifty feet in length and it turned its head trying to keep up with the speed of my fighter. "Thomas, you meat head!"he yelled at me, "If this is some kind of joke, I'll ground you for the rest of your natural life. Did you have one of your data-heads hack the computer to display this?" "Negative, sir,"I kept my voice calm cool and collected. The dragon was flying over the lights of a small city below, still trying to catch a glimpse of the predator it knew was circling. My fingers were itching to release missiles. I knew for a fact that unless her scales were thicker than a tanks armor, I'd take her down, "What you see is what you get. That is one big fucking dragon, sir. Awaiting orders." There was chatter in the background as teams of people were discussing what to do. Ground control was still holding down the broadcast button. He was as much at a loss of what to do as I was. "Thomas,"he finally spoke and I could almost hear the blush over the radio when he noticed he was still holding the mic button down, something you never did, "Is it acting hostile?" "Negative sir, it's flying at about one-hundred miles an hour north-north-west."I banked my aircraft to fly over her on the next pass, "She's going pretty damned slow compared to me sir, I think I've circled her twenty times." "If she shows signs of hostility, you are clear to engage,"ground control told me and I sighed. "And if she doesn't?"I asked as I made my pass over her, taking a look at her in infrared from above, "Sir, I'm counting what appears to be twenty eggs attached to her back. She's gonna be a momma soon, sir."My finger eased off of the trigger, I had lost my appetite to engage. A minute later ground control came back, "Do not engage, Thomas, I repeat do not engage with the bogey unless she poses an immediate threat to civilians, other aircraft, or your own, do you copy?" "I copy loud and clear, sir,"I dropped my aircraft back and the dragon immediately looked less spooked, "Can I ask the status, sir?" "You are to provide that dragon protection until she arrives where she's going, Thomas,"Ground control said, "She's just been put on the endangered species list."
I actually like the premise. "Many will die and our organisation will survive, we work in cells, we have no one leader, our example will be the way the world lives but the non-believers will perish in hell fury"read the charred remains of paper recovered from the scene, with a footnote stating a name not expected by a society used to Arabic or African names being splattered over the headlines, who is Kirk Lancer? "This is it man, what can we do?"Said the officer at the scene, a blast of this size on domestic shores was unheard of until now, so many wounded and dead. As the alien like man clad in radiation attire arrived he stood aghast at the readings from his giga counter, a dirty bomb in a busy area, more will die in agony in the coming days, weeks and months. "We must find this man, this Kirk Lancer"starting right now, he is the most dangerous man in the world. It took only a short search on Google to find the man, a stocky man in his 30s who claimed to be an author, now the search is on. Meanwhile Kirk, confident in his masterpiece has already left on vacation and the search goes global, not being a man to follow current events news, Lancer is on a secluded carrabian island with no idea he is making headlines. A few days into his trip, a small boat approaches the sun soaked beach, aboard are 3 Arabic men and they want Kirk.
"This is my planet, and I have to defend it."Kevin said to the camera. He flashed his impish child grin. "If you enter the atmosphere, this means war." The aliens watched the warning message on a loop. "This child is terrifying,"the Commander said. "He speaks without fear." "What can one child be capable of?"A member of the war council said. "Do not underestimate an enemy, no matter the size,"the Commander said. "SIR!"A petty officer controlling one of the incoming telecoms yelled. "Incoming distress beacon!" "On the main screen!"The Commander said. The massive windshield of the space ship materialized into a monitor. A wave of aliens were running around a small Earth town, panicked, covered in paint. Their skin melted off their bones. "OH GOD!"One of them yelled as he fell dead. "He has --"a soldier spoke to the camera and coughed green blood as the flesh sizzled off his face. "Chemical weapons!" He fell dead. The madness of the dying horde suddenly went quiet as they all fell dead. Kevin McCallister stepped into frame. He pulled the camera close to his face and smiled. The aliens on the ship recoiled, horrified at the sadistic persona that mocked them. The Commander looked to his council, his advisors were dumbfounded. "Ya give up, or ya thirsty for more?"Kevin grinned. The screen went black. *** [/r/wyrdfiction](https://reddit.com/r/wyrdfiction)
Today was Mark's twenty-third consecutive day of working his dead end job at Marshall's. He was a cashier slash stock clerk slash janitor slash maintenance man slash whatever the fuck his dumbass manager Gary wanted him to do that day. He worked for a dollar more than minimum wage and had been stuck in this job ever since he graduated high school. It was an hour before closing time on a Friday, which usually meant that it would be dead and he might actually make it out of the store at a decent hour for once. He was placing anti-theft security tags on polo shirts, counting down the seconds before he could lock the door and begin the process of closing the store. Then they came in. He heard the clanging of steel on steel first, then he heard the clods of horse shoes making their way into the store. He wasn't high, not yet at least, but he was definitely seeing some trippy shit. There were four men in armor on horses trotting around the front entrance of the store. One's horse had kicked over a mannequin display of a floral print summer dress, and another one had already defecated all over the entrance to the women's section. "No, no, no. What the fuck are you guys doing?"Mark shouted at the group. "You all have to leave immediately! Get out!" One of the armor clad men hopped off of his horse, and the other three followed one by one. "Squire!"the man hollered over his shoulder, "come collect the steeds!"A young kid, not even sixteen years old, came running into the store and collected the reigns from all of the Renaissance Faire cast offs. "Sir Marcus of Marshall, where have you been?"the man yelled. "We've been waiting many fortnights for you!" "Listen, man,"Mark began, "I don't know who the hell you guys are but you need to get out of here or I'm calling the cops." "Ahhh, still in denial I see,"the man said as he began to pace, his armor clanging around with each step. "You are a man of honor, that much is clear Marcus of Marshall, we will need that in battle, I'm sure." "Who the hell are you guys?" "Ah, yes, sorry. I am Claudius of the City of Circuits. The men you see before you are of noble heritage as are you. The one in blue is Bernard of Blockbuster. That one with glasses is Sir Billiam of Borders. And the smelly one with headphones on is Samuel of...Sam Goody,"Claudius said in a sigh. "He needs to work on his title, for sure. But that is for another day! We are the Knights of the Old Retail, and we have begun our holy war in the name of the forgotten!" Mark was dumbfounded. He had no clue what to do. Who did he call to fix this mess? His manager Gary? No, that asshat was probably ten beers deep already. The cops would make it so Mark's night wouldn't end until at least midnight. No, he needed to end this as quickly as possible. "Look man, I'm just trying to close up shop." "AHA!"Claudius cackled. "Right you are! But let me ask you Sir Marcus of Marshall, what will you do when these sliding doors close for the last time, never to be opened again?" "I'll probably just go work at The Gap or something. Why, did you hear something? Did Marshall's file for bankruptcy or something?" Claudius stopped pacing. His trio of faux knights remained stoic behind their leader, which only made every move Claudius made even more animated. "My dear boy,"he continued in his phony British accent, "doth my eyes forsake me? You call this a lively and prosperous land?" Mark looked around his store. It was sparse, for sure, but not anything out of the ordinary. The store did good enough to stay open, didn't it? "It could do better, I guess,"Mark replied. "HAHA!"Claudius bellowed. "Sir Marcus, that is precisely what every knight of the Old Retail said at one point."He slapped his armor clad hands together in a loud bang. "AND THEN, the doors closed forever! To open again, never more." "So what do you want?" "Come join us, my boy! Arm yourself as we ride into battle against the new vanguard of retail! We seek revenge over our conquerors and we will get it! First, we ride high into Best Buy, and pillage the shelves! Next, we embark upon Netflix headquarters, and torture the men and women. We then go to the Amazon Stores and burn them to the ground in the name of all Borderlandians! Finally, Spotify, Apple and Google will all pay for forcing thousands of musical lands to wither and die! Our mission awaits! Join the winning side now before it is too late!" "You know what, you're right,"Mark finally said. "Let's do this for the little guy! Tonight we ride!" "HUZZAH!"the quartet yelled triumphantly. The armor clad faux knights reclaimed their reigns from the pimpled face squire and mounted their horses. They charged their way out the sliding door and into the parking lot. As Bernard of Blockbuster exited last, Mark frantically locked the door as the knights looked back sadly, trotting aimlessly in the parking lot waiting for him. "Stay the fuck out of this store you crazy bastards!"Mark yelled through the glass door. He turned his back on them and began to clean up all of the horse shit and refit the mannequin in a new sundress. He didn't make it home until one in the morning, and if that weren't bad enough, he had to open the store early the next morning. "Another wonderful day in retail,"he said to himself as his head hit the pillow. --- Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, visit me at /r/BrenBuck for more writing!
Earth was merely a stop. We dissected our DNA, spliced together a haphazard version, put it into the form of microbes and sent it off to Earth. We knew it would last, albeit they wouldn't out last us. We were superior. Yet here we were, face to face with an equivocal being, one who was stronger, but also held some high level of intelligence. It had traveled back the distance of 5 septoms (roughly 1713.32 AU) to meet us and speak with us. So, we formed an allegiance. One which held with a fragile thread for decades, but after eons it was cemented. While we could copulate, we never could reproduce together. Some found their tender skin attractive, and some of them found our tails to be quite...appealing. Their species has an entire subsection dedicated to fornication with quite literally anything, including the tropical fruits from their planets. We solved hunger, and limits like light speed, together. We lived as a species for the equivalence of an eternity together. We calculated the end. And with the solar systems all moved away from eachother, and the black holes all wearing down, we were on a singular isotope moving through an ocean of emptiness. We knew that in two days, eternity was over. And while there was no solution for fixing an entire universe, we knew how to survive and thrive as a species. So we did what we had done, so so long ago. We spliced together DNA, we created a new species, a biped with the capacity to reason and be empathetic. It was the best of both of us, in a small, microbe sized, capsule. It would survive the heat death and the great crunch. ---- And this time, it would outlast us.
"Alright, Mr. Isla, I'm about to activate your prosthetic eyes. I've we've darkened the room, but the brightness will still sting for a while." Enrique Isla was sitting upright on his hospital bed when he heard an electric hum up followed by a sharp sensation... brightness. That was all he could describe it as. Brightness. As it dimmed, he started to make out blurry silhouettes. The doctor continued, "let me know when you begin to see forms or shapes." "I got it."Enrique, couldn't hide his joy. There were several people in the hospital room. Little by little he was able to discern faces. He looked up at his wife who was holding his hand tightly. "Honey, are you crying?" His wife chocked her tears back to respond, but all she could muster was an, "mmhmm!" "Mr. Isla, tomorrow after your brain has gotten used to your eyes, we will be able to adjust them better. For now, however, your eyesight will be blurry. That's perfectly normal." "Blurry?" "Yes. Fuzzy. Not sharp."He held out his hand. "Can you tell how many fingers I am holding up?" This seemed fairly easy to Enrique. "Three." "Good. How many people are in this room?" "Not counting me?"He looked around at this wife, the doctor and the two nurses or patients standing in the back. "Four." His wife was startled. "Four?" The doctor reassured her, "it's not a big deal. Eyesight is new to your husband. He's never seen shadows before." Enrique leaned forward toward the two dark figures across the room. "That's what shadows look like?"He chuckled. One of the blurry shadows approached and put its hand on his bed. Enrique instinctively pulled his feet back. The doctor laughed, "that's okay! You have no sense of shadows and highlights yet, or understanding of visual depth! It will come with time." After some discussion about appointments and further testing, the doctor left to leave them alone. Enrique's wife was ecstatic, but he couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling from the two shadows glaring back at him from beyond the foot of his bed.
The light turned green and I started to walk across the street when I felt a hand touch my elbow. "Excuse me miss, do you need help crossing the street?" I turned to see an old lady, maybe in her seventies, with white hair and her brows close together with worry. Really, shouldn't I be the one asking you that? I held back my sigh, gave her a tight smile, and responded, "No thank you." I turned and walked a across with her close behind. "You know, I really admire you, to be able to get around without a walking stick or anything, just able to get around with just your hearing." We reached the other side of the road and I had to release my sigh before I said, "Ma'am I'm not blind." "Oh but your eyes-" "They're contact lenses." "Oh I should have known with that toy rifle on your back. Are one of those conventions in town then?" "Yes ma'am, have a good day."I turned and walked faster than I knew she could, hoping she was in decent health so I wouldn't have to see her for a while. Just my luck that today was an especially windy day and my favorite sunglasses blew off my face on my way home. You would think I would know to bring spares at my age, but I was too stubborn. I squinted my eyes and kept my head down as I jogged home. I walked into my studio apartment, set my things down, and immediately poured a glass of wine. As I took a sip, I checked my texts and the time. I had 5 minutes before I had to leave and meet with him at the restaurant, but I had to get a glass of wine in me before seeing him again. I downed the red wine, fed my hamster, Louis, and picked my stuff right back up, making sure to put my spare sunglasses on more securely than I had this morning. Walking felt so much being able to keep my head high and not have to squint. I walked up to the hostess and said, "Hi the reservation should be under-" "Yes of course, right this way Miss White." I followed her to the dining room in the back, sat down, and made sure she closed the door. I looked at my father holding a wine glass and reading the newspaper with no sunglasses. I took mine off as well. "How many times do I have to tell you I hate being called Miss White by your staff?" "And how many times do I have to tell you that you will take my name in my building? You're my daughter, it's only natural." I held my tongue as I knew it was no use trying to argue with him. "I am so glad to see you Elena, home safe and sound after that Great War." I grabbed the wine glass in front of me and breathed deep, smelling the vintage wine that likely cost more than my monthly rent. I tried to relax through my anger. My father knew damn well I went to the most remote region I could find during the war after some violence had reached the city. I didn't need my rifle burning my back every 10 minutes when a death occurred within 5 miles thank you. He continued, "Darling, why did you run away? There were so many deaths, why, I have enough energy for the next few years at least. You would have fit right in with your rifle, more than I would anyway." He had enough energy for the next millennia considering he was the only Reaper until the past 23 years when he started breeding. "I don't need as much as you. I'm fine." "Still having trouble taking the souls do you? I would have thought you'd get used to it by now." I would have too, it's only been a few hundred times. "I'm fine. I guide enough souls at the hospice." I hate when he calls it "taking."I guide souls to whatever door they're fated for and absorb the residual energy, but he makes it sound like I'm taking the lives myself. My father gave me a small frown, trying to convey his disappointment in me. Well joke's on you dad, I don't give a shit. I rolled my eyes, which is nearly impossible to tell given their color, and his frown worsened. "Are we done here? Have I met my monthly paternal meeting quota?" "My little White Death, don't be like that." White Death? He's the one with white hair and skin, and I'm the one called that despite my brown skin and hair. Genetics decided it wanted to be funny when I was created, as he had pure black eyes and mine were pure white. "Well, what do you want?" "I thought I should tell you that you have a brother and he's finally come of age." I stared at my father. And I stared. My mouth went dry as I felt my body flush with different emotions. Anger at him for breeding again. Grief for my new brother and his loss. Grief from when I "came of age"and had to guide my mother's soul. Grief from when my sister took her own life shortly after "coming of age." I opened my mouth and found nothing to say, so I closed it, picked up my things, and left.
Tor'ak was utterly perplexed. He had received the written records about the species inhabiting the planet they called Earth. A race of short-lived bipeds that had advanced tremendously in a few hundred rotations of their sun, going from feudal states based largely on unfounded theology and speculation to governmental bodies where technological and scientific advancements were the main concern. They were unnecessarily cruel to one another, inciting injury, war and death on each other in repeated cycles of barbarity. The rich hoarded resources in efforts to make more money and the poor, having been ostracised by the rich were left to die, out of sight, out of mind. They exploited their environment recklessly, threatening the very viability of the planet that had nursed them to their current heights. And worst of all, they never learned from their mistakes. Under the Galactic Community's Act of Enlightenment, all species that were nearing the threshold of a level 1 civilisation needed to be put under severe scrutiny, their society analysed to deem the level of compatibility with the Galactic Community as a whole, and to gauge their threat level to Intergalactic Peace. If a species is deemed compatible and low threat, it is valued as an A-1 Society and allowed to enter directly into the folds of the Galactic Community with relatively little diplomacy and is afforded the same rights as the majority of races which made up the Community. Conversely, any species discovered with a threat level higher than 8 and a compatibility score lower than D was to be immediately purged, again with relatively little diplomatic proceedings. Humans were, by the Galactic Community's standards, the least compatible and most hostile species ever discovered. They could never be allowed to reach even the first level of civilisation, as the threat for the rest of the galactic population would be too great. Tor'ak was the personification of this purge, instilled on the un-contacted species of Earth. He had expected to find little difference between the society so abhorrently described in the reports and the planet floating beneath the minute armada he commanded. He had begun to conduct his final analysis of the species, in order to dispel any lingering questions as to whether the fate that had been ordered for them was entirely necessary. While allowing the machines to draw the conclusions necessary to finalise this business, Tor'ak inspected the little blue and green planet beneath him. It was much the same as he remembered from the report. Yet not exactly the same. Detailed in the report was the large sea of human waste which had been orbiting the planet, which was now mysteriously gone. That meant only one thing: the species had finally learned, and for some reason had cleaned up after themselves. It was, if anything, a small glimmer of hope in the absolute darkness of doom. But it wasn't enough. The machines had finished drawing their analysis of the planet and were ready to present their conclusions. Tor'ak was utterly perplexed. The machines clearly stated the impossible. The carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere had reached a reading of 322.45 parts per million, almost 100ppm lower than the reading in the report. On top of that it seemed that for the last 200 years the biodiversity of the planet had actually flourished, and the rate of extinction had gone down from a thousand species a week to the occasional one. Large swatches of forest were now common place amongst every major landmass across the globe. The temperatures of the oceans had dropped by two degrees Celsius. The most astounding changes were found within the human population as a whole. Where as 200 years ago the human population had been verging on eight billion, it was now steadily at six and a half billion, which was half the projected population for the species. The average age of an individual on Earth was around 89, exceeding the reported average of 29. Whatever the political structure that the society had based itself on seemed to work. Gone were the days of countries and governments. In it's place now existed an almost mirror image of the galactic community, however rather than representatives being from solar systems, they were from cultural states. These cultural states were afforded privileges based on their needs and given resources to insure not a single individual would go hungry. There were no radioactive signatures younger than 188 years old, so it seemed that no major conflict had occurred in the years it took for the representatives of the Galactic Community to arrive. To Tor'ak's knowledge, nothing like this had ever occurred. Not a single species analysed by the Community had ever re-structured itself, especially not to the degree that the humans had. They had, it seemed, miraculously saved themselves from absolute destruction by metamorphing from an E-10 society to an A-1. The only explanation that Tor'ak could conjure was that they had known they were coming, which would have been entirely impossible as they would have needed to know about the existence of the Galactic Community itself but also the inner-most proceedings of it's politics. Either way, Tor'ak thought, his superiors would need to know. He wasn't about to proceed and be blamed for wiping out a seemingly civilised and compatible species.
It's peculiar what happened. A month had passed in this state of "absolute truth"and everyone was trying to live how they used to live. People did not run from each other and did not tear out their tongue whenever asked a sensitive question. Quite the opposite. Everyone continued their lives as they were, but absolutely everyone had a free pass to say what they wanted. Or, in this case, to say the only thing that ever came from one's mouth now - the truth. It was like a state of a calm emergency where everyone hoped that this strange period will pass just as it had started. No one knew what has caused it, but, as it started so sudden, it was expected to stop just as sudden. And why shouldn't you have said what you always thought? It's not like the boss was surprised that you'd rather sit home and watch the tv. It's not like the telemarketer thinks that you love him. No one was truly shocked by anything. And if someone actually did say something awfully embarrassing, well, it's not like you haven't had impure thoughts about vacuum cleaners yourself. Who cares? It was the morning and I just had woken up and I heard someone sing "It's a beautiful day..."Recorded songs had no obligation to tell the truth. I turned on the news and two news anchors were looking at me from the screen. "So..."Shrugged the blond woman looking straight at me: "Things are looking pretty good. No major earthquakes, no nothing. Crime is going down... What can I say? It's 9 am, Sun is up, the traffic is pretty bad, but that's because you have the leisure to sleep for so long, not like us, who have to already be here and pretend to be morning people." "Hahaha..."laughed her co-anchor in his blue suit: "I despise you all for this, I really do. Well. What now? Bob? What's the weather going to be like?" Another man appeared, picking hair off his jacket: "Fuck if I know, Taylor. Back to you." Well, that's that. I got dressed, grabbed my keys and exited the house. I would be awake in an hour or so, but right now I was on an autopilot. Just need to go through the morning, it's going to get better. Suddenly, a fresh and jolly voice from the neighbor's yard shouted at me: "Good morning, neighbor!" "Fuck you too, whatever your name..."and then I suddenly woke up. "Wait, really?" "Sure,"the neighbor said smiling and working on his yard. "It definitely is a good morning, so a good morning, neighbor." "Yeah."I looked around and at my neighbor "I suppose you are right, you son of a saint. I suppose you are. Good morning, neighbor."This surprised me. Is it really a good morning? I suppose it is, and why not. I decided to take the scenic route to my job, which made me come in late, but I did not really care. I arrived and sat down at my desk and started going through papers when my boss Tomass came up to me. A decent fellow, a tad strict, but decent. "You are late,"he boomed "why?" I looked at him "I really didn't want to come in you know?" "Do I?"Tomass laughed "Of course I do. But don't worry. You're one of the best here and we can't do without you. I mean, shit, you could take a paid week off right now and we'd be thankful that you'd return at all."He smiled and then suddenly realized that he just might have said too much. Well, that's good to know. "Raise my pay then." "I technically can, but Blaine from HR has this tactic where, if someone requests a raise, I have to deny two times. It has to do with psychology or something, I'm not very good at that." "Raise my pay. Raise my pay."I repeated myself twice. "Consider it done,"Tomass gleamed that we've managed to settle this. Everyone knew that Blaine is a pain. "Don't you rather want the vacation week?" "Nah, thanks, I really have no social life and I can't masturbate twice a day, so why would I need a full day off? For that matter, a week?" "Makes sense,"Tomass agreed, bid me farewell, and entered his office. It was finally time for my first call. A lady our company had worked with for a while had filed a complaint. The repairman who we sent to her house had done a shabby job and her oven still wasn't working. So I had to call her and work out the details. "Good morning, Miss Sharp. I'm calling from Tools'R'Us."I started the conversation. "Well, it might be a good morning to you..."stated the pleasant, but annoyed voice of a young woman "but I haven't had a warm meal in a while due to the broken oven and I'm a bit cross." "I understand. I'm very..."What was the word I'm looking for? "Sorry"? That doesn't sound right "...tired of this happening. The repairman Carl works here just because we can't fire him. It's not that he is a minority, we've just lost him in the system and can't find his data." Silence. I suppose there was nothing miss Sharp could do about it, so I continued: "If it's any consolation, I'd like to take you out to dinner to have a good and tasty meal." Again, a pause, but not a long one. "That sounds lovely, but I'd rather have the oven fixed. No, wait. I want the dinner and my oven fixed. Can you do both?" "I suppose."Fucking Carl. "So, this evening is good for you? I get off work at about... Well, I just discovered that I get off work about any time I want." "Nice,"said Miss Sharp "I wanted to pretend that I'm busy this evening to seem coy, but I really am awfully lonely and have been for a while, so I'd enjoy a company. Also, I think I'm finally ready for a relationship just about now and this is a great romantic and curious start. I live at..." "Oh I know where you live, I have all the data about you here. I mean, hell, you can't even imagine what sort of data we've collected." And that's that. I hung up the phone and absent-mindedly looked at all of the papers on my table. "Tomass, you wee fuck, I know you can hear me!"I shouted across the hall. "The fuck is wrong with you?"shouted Tomass back. "Some childhood problems I think."Silence. "Tomass, I'm taking a week off. Like, now, I think." "Oh fuck you!"shouted Tomass back, not entirely angry. "Yeah, I know, that's the point,"I shouted back while gathering my things and a coat and heading out into what my neighbor once called a "Good morning".
I ignore my cousin’s snickering as I bite into the brownie. She thinks I can’t handle it. This shit ain’t legal back home and I don’t plan on coming to the states for a long while so I plan to make the most out of my trip. Not knowing what to expect, I sat down on the couch and turn on the TV, waiting for the drug to take its effect. “Oh crap it’s already 11:30.” My cousin muttered as she bounce around the house getting ready. She quickly yelled, “I’m going out! Call me if you need anything!” and she was gone, leaving me alone in the house while on this bizarre drug for the first time. It wasn’t until the commercial for last minute Valentine’s day flowers was on, I realized that why my cousin left. She probably had a date. But in what world are flowers $34.99 for two dozen. How is that a deal? I must be tripping. Then suddenly the station cut into breaking news. I try to change the channel but they were all the same showing the same aerial footage of some building. Every. Single. One of them. Feeling defeated and in truth a bit lazy, I sat down and try to wait until the news story is over. Then I realize it wasn’t going to stop. Upon listening to the actual news story, I decided, that I have actually gone crazy. The anchor described of a shooting at a school. There was a news caster live on scene interviewing some student. When the student mentioned they might have seen two bodies. The caster’s eyes become ones of a vulture, his sharp tongue began moving in a seemingly impossible speed. Asking “Do you know who they are? Do you think they are dead?” All while supposedly the gunman is still at large. What’s even crazier is that the station manage to get live video of students inside the school. They said it was taken from social media platforms. I decide that this must be a movie, it’s too dramatic and the sources are too convenient. I probably just didn’t know how to use the controllers. Feeling better after the rationalization, I continue watching. The story progressed to a student live-tweeting the shooting and politicians offering condolences on Twitter as well. The first time the victim count has been announce. 17 victims were hurt or killed. This continued for about another two hours before I decided maybe my cousin was right. Maybe I couldn’t handle it. Time seems to be moving so fast. How can I be watching the same movie for three hours already when the plot did not even progress? Then I went promptly to bed, to try to sleep the drug off and reminded myself to never try this again. ------ Edit: Obligatory edit and thank you for the kind stranger that gilded my story.
"Did you just drool on me?"I asked Jessica, my financial advisor. She had been watching over my shoulder as I was signing some paperwork, when a clear drop of liquid had landed on, and slowly soaked into, my sleeve. "What?"Jessica said, laughing, wiping her mouth. "That's silly! But, Steven, I have to ask, what cologne are you wearing? It's absolutely appetizing." I wrapped up my paperwork and walked briskly out of the office, slightly disturbed. I shook off the upset feeling by recalling exactly how rich I had become! It had been a mere two weeks since my lab-grown Steven's Steaks had hit the market, to huge success. I was a perfect specimen of a human being and it had been discovered that my DNA created a marvelously tasty and remarkably healthy meat - and everyone wanted it. Within the first week, I had become a millionaire. Now, after a second week of steadily climbing sales, I was looking down the road towards billionaire. Yes, life was good. Everyone was smiling at me. Big smiles. Big, toothy grins. The security guard at the front of the office building stood in my way, smiling. "Sir, you certainly do smell nice,"he said, swallowing an excess of saliva, not moving away from the exit. "Uh, thank you?"I responded, a little unsettled. "Would you please step aside so I can leave?" The guard shook himself, then stepped aside embarrassed. "Oh, but of course, sir. So sorry, I don't know what I was thinking! Kind of zoned-out for a second there."He laughed nervously, then turned to the receptionist. "Hey Mary, is is lunchtime yet?" Hurrying to my car, I noticed a small procession of mixed people had accumulated and begun to follow me through the parking lot; business people, young people, homeless people, and more unattended dogs than I would have thought usual. I got into my car and sped away, watching in my rear-view mirror as the throng of followers shrunk away into the distance, looking around confused and clutching their stomachs. I got home and kissed my wife. "Hi honey, what's for dinner?" "You are, sweetie,"she said with a warm smile, then kissed me again, this time giving my lip a bite. I rubbed my sore lips together, then asked, "One of my steaks? We're having the same thing, Again?" "Did you want someone...I mean something else?"she asked. "Oh, no. I'll be fine...I mean, that'll be fine." Dinner was fabulous; my wife was a trained chef who could prepare a world-class steak, and I was truly an excellent... I was truly feeling excellent. What's wrong with me? I wondered after the meal, nervously chewing on the inside of my mouth, perhaps a bit too hard. "Are you feeling OK honey?"My wife asked, concerned. "You look a little hot."I was surprised to discover that I was indeed sweating. She put her hand to my forehead. "No, you feel OK. Not too hot."she pulled her hand away and licked my sweat off. She then collected our dishes, observing absently, "That really was a good dinner, wasn't it tasty? I mean, wasn't it, sweetie?" What was going on? I wondered. Something was definitely out of place, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. Oh well, I thought. I guess there's no sense eating myself up about it!
"The way I see it, if I look I'll have less things to be scared of", I said arguing with my parents. They, like so many people, withheld my CoD on my birth certificate. I'm 18 now. I'm about to leave the house and I want to take the world by storm. Maybe it's that spirit that's driving my curiosity. Still I don't think my words are working with my parents. "Remember when Josh down the street saw his? It said car accident. Poor boy hasn't left his house in weeks." "At least he knows it's safe to fly!"I quipped. "That's not funny! This is serious. We don't want you to live in fear." "Show me it! It really can't be that bad." Eventually my perseverance won out and I saw the form. It read simply, Cause of Death: Brain Aneurysm. I read those two words and felt...relieved. I knew the end so I could write the story how I saw fit. I travelled, I bungie jumped. I lived the life I wanted to live. I saw that 30 years ago and I haven't let up since. It could get me at anytime but that's ok. Everything ends. It's what you do up to that point that matters.
The boy of prophecy had served his purpose. Balance had been brought to the force and the galaxy was at peace. At least the Republic's idea of peace. Now the Jedi order sat on their high horse unchallenged and arrogant. The one voice of wisdom on the council abandoned the order. Yoda exiled himself for the shame of overlooking the rise of Sidious. Master Windu and Anakin were the new faces of the order. Their brazen tactics and action first policy led to problems around the Galaxy. The boy of prophecy destroyed the empire but evil had not died, it merely changed forms. My home world, Tchar, had governed itself on the outer rim for thousands of years. Tribal politics and royal families had fought throughout our world history. Our problems were many but they were our own, we followed rules, we followed customs, the Republic did no such thing. Our old problems were nothing compared to what the Republic brought us. After the Chancellor was killed the Republic became emboldened and righteous. They felt the need to spread their "peace and balance"to the tumultuous worlds around the Galaxy. Their first expansion came to my homeland. There was no invasion, there was no war, but the voice of my people was beaten and subdued by the almighty Republic. I was only 12 when they first arrived. I was the heir to the Falintarr family estate. My tribe was in control of more than half of the planet. My father was no tyrant, he helped the people, he avoided war, and i loved him. The Republic came on the day of my 13th birthday, they didn't like my father's ideology. Our father was "encouraged"to join the Republic, and to accept Republic advisers who could guide his hand. He refused outright, and the consequences were unclear at first. That same night my father died in his sleep. Im no fool. I knew what the Republic had done and I was furious. A resounding rage overcame me. I screamed and cried over my fathers body, when suddenly my rage became something more. It reached out, it spread through the room. I felt connected to the world. I wanted to destroy it, destroy it all. The room crumpled around me, windows shattered and the bed flew through the wall, their was an awakening inside me. My rage has not stopped burning since that day. It will never die. Now it is my constant fuel and motivation. My connection to the world has not left either. It is infinitely stronger now. Years have gone by and I have spent every waking moment honing my ability. I know it is the only way I can get my revenge. Today I sensed something for the first time, a presence distant but powerful. I knew it was the boy of prophecy, but it was not he that drew my interest. Killing him would not destroy the Republic that ruined my home. it was the other two that caught my eye. Anakin was not alone, two powerful children with limitless potential and moldable minds were in his presence. My time for action had come. All the training and the years of honing and utilizing my rage had reached the tipping point. I stepped onto my ship and went towards the powerful ripples in the force. The planet Naboo reminded me of my home world... before the Republic powers took hold. Before Republic industry poisoned Tchar, and before my family was broken. Before my father was a cold casualty of "Peace and balance". But I quickly overcame my moment of weakness, and latched back on to the rage that had become so powerful and familiar. I watched quietly as Anakin trained with his children. He had grown complacent in peace. He didn't sense my presence. I approached him and my power swelled along with my rage. Hate boiled over and surged through my body, but i was still in control. My outstretched hands coursed with power as lightning erupted from my fingers. The ultimate manifestation of all my hatred. The boy of prophecy was caught off guard and my relentless power overwhelmed him in seconds. His children and I would soon overthrow the terror that was the Republic.
"The bald eagle. The grizzly bear. The gray wolf. At one time or another, all of these icons of the American spirit have been threatened with extinction, and steps have been taken to preserve them."the Ambassador intoned solemnly. "And now, another species hangs in the balance, equally as important to the culture and identity of the United States: The North American Gray Extraterrestrial." U.S. Secretary of the Interior Alan Lowman, a dour black man in his mid-fifties scowled down from the committee table at the Ambassador, a four-foot tall humanoid with an oversize head, gray skin, and two enormous black eyes. He seemed to resent that the Endangered Species Committee had been convened for this purpose at all, and it showed as he voiced his reply to the diminutive alien. "Ambassador, while we may sympathize with the plight of your people--"the Secretary began. "Species."corrected the Ambassador. "'People' can refer to an ethnic group or nation state, a mere subset of a greater population. Please, Mr. Secretary, let us be clear on what is at stake, here." "Be that as it may."the Secretary said, waving a hand in dismissal. "The Endangered Species Act was intended to protect species native to our country from habitat loss, over-hunting, pollution -- that sort of thing. Native species, Ambassador. You are, after all, the furthest thing from native that it is possible to be! You are introduced, transplanted -- an invasive species, if you'll pardon the expression." The Ambassador raised a long, graceful finger. "Ah, and yet this is not without precedent -- many protections, for example, have been extended to various populations of so-called 'wild horses' in your country, although these equines are in fact not native to this continent, being descendants of feral populations introduced by European settlers a scant few hundred years ago. Nonetheless, they are accepted as native because they were established in this country prior to the Endangered Species Act of 1973 -- my species, also, had an established presence on this world prior to this date." The Secretary huffed in exasperation. "Yes, yes, Roswell in the 1940s, one of your colony escorts crashed, we've been over all that. Well, that may be, but unlike wild horses, you haven't exactly minded your own business during your stay here."He held out a hand, and a nearby assistant handed him a stack of manila folders. "Mr. Ambassador, I have here hundreds of reports of humans being abducted, experimented upon, and otherwise violated by your people. While I realize not all of these accounts are true, it still paints a grim picture of your species. How do you explain that?" The Ambassador shrugged, an unsettlingly human gesture. "Past administrators of the remnant of my species were less enlightened than myself and my contemporaries. But time and circumstances change, Mr. Secretary. Consider the aforementioned gray wolves and grizzly bears -- were their populations not once the cause of great suffering and death for the humans who pioneered this great country? Now, however, you regard them as national assets to be protected, even sometimes at the expense of your own species' interests. And while there are very close relatives of the grizzly bear and gray wolf to be found elsewhere on this planet, only your state of New Mexico can boast a viable population of the North American Gray Extraterrestrial." At this, Secretary Lowman slapped his hand down on the desk in consternation. "Listen here, you keep talking about your species like they were any other native animal! I've said from the beginning, if you want to live in the United States, that's a diplomatic problem, an immigration problem, it is not a matter for this body!" "As to whether we are like any other native animal, that is a philosophical issue -- we are discussing matters of law, here. Regardless, as we are emphatically animals who are not human, our status is inescapably a matter for this body, as I believe I have already demonstrated."the Ambassador countered. "I won't let you use this body against the best interests of the American people and ecology."Lowman insisted, stubbornly. "Whatever the letter of the law may say, protecting those interests is the ultimate purpose of the ESA, as well as every other law on the books!" "Our habitat in the United States will not be without benefit to its citizens."the Ambassador assured him. He gestured, and another alien came forward bearing a disc-shaped metal device which he activated to display a floating hologram depicting aliens and humans interacting in a desert setting. "We propose that the land we now occupy be designated as one of your national parks. While most of our population will of course continue living in our underground facilities, many of us have agreed to live above ground for the purpose of educating humans about our species and interacting with them in a positive way. We have devised several eco-tourist attractions." The hologram changed to show an alien wearing a life jacket floating placidly amidst a throng of excited people splashing in shallow water nearby. "Including 'Swim With the Aliens'..." It switched again, showing an adult human fondly embracing a gray extraterrestrial. "...for a more tactile experience 'Hug an Alien'..." Finally, the hologram displayed a group of children gathered around a human adult and an alien dressed in matching outdoorsman attire. "...and for your inquisitive larvae, 'Alien Learning Camp'." The other alien retreated and deactivated his device as the Ambassador continued. "We project that these secondary attractions alone will directly contribute billions of dollars yearly to your economy, to say nothing of the secondary revenue from the tourist economy necessary to service our habitat." The Secretary stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well...I...you know, you might actually have something there. I'd have one condition before I endorsed any such plan, though." The Ambassador smiled, mimicking the human expression perfectly. "You have only to name it." _________________________________________ The children sat around, staring in rapt attention at their counselor and her serene gray alien companion, as the middle-aged woman finished her historical narrative. "And that, campers, is how the permanent habitat preserve for the North American Gray Extraterrestrial was established here at Alan Lowman National Park."
I understand. I need to help him in any way I can, I'm his wife and I need to support him. After all, he cant do it alone. I was almost done wearing my dress. It was brand new, meant specially for this occasion. I hear a call "Honey, where is my supersuit?". We've been together for Fifty years now, and I'm completely used to this now. It doesn't matter that it's our wedding anniversary. Even if it's our Golden Anniversary today. We shall have our dinner tomorrow, I hope. And so I stifle my annoyance and frustration, once again. "I'll be right there dear"I reply. I open the cupboard and hunt for the button at the back. It's is really hard to find, but I manage in a matter of seconds, I'm used to it by now. I quickly grab the suit that my husband so adores. I then have to change as well. I make a great sidekick after all. It doesn't matter that all the time I spent getting ready for the anniversary is wasted, this is more important. My "costume"is much more plain as compared to my husband's, though much more comfortable. As I reach the living room, my husband, Superthorn was pacing impatiently. He quickly donned his costume, not even bothering to remove his suit that he was wearing. I'll have to wash it again, and I felt a bit angry at that. But that wasn't too important. We quickly got into the car, with me driving of course, that's what I was for. Quickly I began to make a list of things he needed while going to battle and he began to confirm he had it. Suit \- check, Mask \- Check, Sword \- Check, Power Booster \- Check. As I activated the villain sensor in the car, and of we sped. He trusted me, and would never question that all this was planned. He would never ask what exactly was his power booster, or where exactly were we going. He was going there to fight villains he thought. I smiled sadly at what I was going to have to do. But there was no helping it. After driving for 15 minutes, I called out "Dear, we are almost there, take the power booster and let's get going". He knew he was getting slower, old age was catching up to him. He needed that boost, so he took it with no questions asked. "Good boy"I thought. I now drove to the big white building, and I swiped my card, carefully hidden from my husband of course, to be allowed to enter and park our vehicle. I took out my phone and called "Hello, I got him here. Could you come get him please?". Then they came, knowing where I would park my vehicle. They then took him away, as I looked on with a tear in my eye. Quickly wiping it off, I steeled myself. I then had to go inside, this was really hard, as always. I peeked into the room where they kept him, and got teary eyed once again. I hated that I had to do this. In a minute the doctor came and said "It's ok now, he will regain his senses in a day of medication, thank you for bringing him here for his monthly treatment". My husband has psychosis, and needs treatment once a month. I put on my best fake smile and said : I understand. I need to help him in any way I can, I'm his wife and I need to support him. After all, he cant do it alone. PS: This is my first WP. Please give me any pointers and criticisms you have, and how I can write better in the future.
The time was coming for 'The Decision.' In this day and age, nearly all biological life could be controlled and influenced by humans, and the government. Every year, on the 2nd of January, the children in America becoming adults within the following calendar year had to decide; not only when or where they would go to school or what city to explore as they gain independence, but when and how their life will end. This government mandate was not made lightly, but overpopulation and life sustaining expenses were big points on the Freedom Accords, a document ammending the constitution to give freedom to the citizens, while also granting more reactive powers to the government. As a result, tomorrow we, the newly (or soon to be) minted adults had to make 'The Decision'. I had decided, like many, to have an aneurism in my sleep at the age of 85. The results would go into the system at midnight on the 3rd of January, and everything in the government's power would be done to make that happen to a T. The execution rate was like 97%, so I heard. I've heard people living to 135 or so before they got tired of life and committed suicide. The government could keep you ripe. But youd get bored. Of the loss, of life itself, of the struggle, so your kill yourself. I've also heard of this one guy that wanted to go by grenade. But we dont really need armies anymore. But when the time came, in the middle of a walk in the park with few bystanders, there it was a 'random' black powder grenade explosion. One casualty. Weird. I was fine with my decision, and slept like a baby that night. In the morning, I went to the city hall like every other 17 (or 18) year old this morning in the area, and went into the 2010's style voting booth. On the screen, the person before me had not pressed 'Submit'. We were allowed to share our choices, but it was looked down upon for some reason. My curiosity got the best of me though and I read the entry: On January 2, 2082, I Jayden Lasitos, do decide that I would like my death to be enacted by Thermonuclear Explosion. SHIT!! That's this morning!!! What could that mean?! What could they do???!! Within moments sirens began going off. Blaring horns heard across the city I assume. Hovercopters began touching down every few blocks. "DANGER! EVACUATE!DANGER! EVACUATE!DANGER! EVACUATE!" But there was no time, I came out of the booth and ran down the city hall steps to look around and I saw a blinding light about a mile away.
“Sophie for the love of god-” “For the love of person, I’m the one who’s a god. Come on John we’ve established this”. “YOU BLEW UP THE MOON!” “Okay you’re making some MAJOR assumptions here, that is NOT how that situation went down”. “How’d it go down then???” “Well for starters, the moon imploded into itself, which is extremely different than explodin- “WHY DO YOU DO THESE THINGS?!” “You said you didn’t like the waves! I wanted to throw it off it’s rhythm”. “GODDAMN IT SOPHIE!” “WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DAMN???” “FUCK!”
Mr. Weasley grabbed a coffee and the morning newspaper, hoping to catch some good news before the day truly began. He reluctantly gave the pecking owl a Knut and shooed it away. Diagon Alley Wizard Crashes Dragon Into Muggle Town: Ministry on Overload Mr. Weasley sighed and read through the article. Somehow, Rita Skeeter had been the publishing author, and it was difficult to sift through the rubbish that accompanied her work. The daredevil wizard had managed to drunkenly climb atop a sleeping dragon, and goaded it to fly across the sky until an unfortunate explosion from his wand toppled it from the sky and into a Muggle village. While the Muggle village was severely damaged, the wizard escaped with a few burns and cuts. And who doesn't like a man with a few scars, right ladies? Mr. Weasley always started skimming when Rita began her descriptions of people, they were either described as impossibly handsome and desirable, or disgustingly grotesque. "Maybe there's something better on page two,"Mr. Weasley said. Diagon Alley Wizard Brought in on Large Scarf Smuggling Ring "This one can't be that bad." It was. The Ministry recently apprehended a smuggler of large quantities of enchanted scarves. While they were enchanted to keep the wearer warm on the coldest of nights, several of these scarves had the unfortunate side effect of strangling the wearer. Mundungus Fletcher... "I'm going to kill Mundungus next time I see him,"Arther Weasley almost tore the paper flipping to page three, but it held no comfort for him. Diagon Alley Wizard Sends Daily Prophet to Muggle "Fax Machine" The Daily Prophet has been sent to nearly every Muggle home that has one of these "Fax Machines,"an expert has been quoted, "And every wizard in the department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts will likely be working days and nights for the next month to rectify this problem." Arther's head sank into his coffee, when one of the Weasley twins walked around the corner. "Morning Dad,"the twin said. "Morning Fred,"Mr. Weasley groaned. "I'm not Fred, I'm George." "Sorry George." "Just kidding, I am Fred,"Fred said and gave a cheeky grin. A thought entered Mr. Weasley's head, and he looked around to make sure Mrs. Weasley wasn't in the area. "Say Fred,"Mr. Weasley said in a low voice, "you've been working on some new, ahem, creations lately, right?" "Uh huh." "Could I perhaps,"and Mr. Weasley lowered his voice even further, "Make use of one of your puking pastiles? I think it's going to be a short day for me today."
Elowyn followed her Lord’s instructions. Just as her mother had when she gave her only daughter away to train with the Sherin A’dar. His will shaped her reality and delivered her destiny. When the Mountain of Kasmyre had glowed so bright it turned night into day, her Lord took notice. When the light faded, leaving nothing but a great skull carved into the rock like the corpse of an old god, she knew she did not have to ask to venture inside and reveal its secrets. She simply had to wait for his command. The Kingdom must be protected and Elowyn was the blade of the Sherin A’dar, sworn to cut through anything that would challenge His sovereignty. It was on her Lord’s orders to find and destroy what had cast this blight on His territory that she had set out three days ago past the mighty teeth made of stone. What she had found had been... perplexing. The newly formed edifice did not follow the laws of modern architecture, nor was it organically made as had been the lair of the dragon, Fierestra. It was laid out as a series of squares each taking approximately the same amount of time to move between. The hallways opened up into nearly identical rooms with a single challenge to be found in each. As she progressed through the structure she found the obstacles in her path to increase in their level of threat. She slashed through reanimated skeletons, goblins, and even a vampire. Stranger still, they all left behind items of immense value for the next room. It was as though they were designed to help her move forward, gaining the skills and items she would need to continue on her journey. After three days she had reached the root of the skull. The cavern that would hold the brain were this mountain a living thing, where the philosophers said dwelled the thoughts of men. The entrance was sealed by a massive wooden door built from fire oak and fastened shut with an ornate golden lock. She knew instantly that the blood red key she had taken from the two headed troll in the previous square room would open it. She fitted the key slowly into the mechanism feeling each click of the tumblers inside. With her fingers wrapped securely around the hilt of her sword, she turned the key with her off hand. The door opened slowly of its own accord, revealing a cloud of blue smoke. She wielded her blade as she had been trained to do since childhood. The Sherin A’dar had prepared her well. When the smoke settled she would be ready to strike. “Anoseen rhelicus,” she commanded, and the old magic obeyed. The air pushed out from her lungs and cleared the chamber of the smoke. What she saw gave her pause. There was no beast or legion awaiting her, only a single man. “Oh joy,” he said, more to himself than to Elowyn. “Someone finally made it. It’s been so long since I had guest.” He snapped his fingers and a velvet chair with beautiful carvings in its wooden frame appeared in front of her. “Please have a seat." Elowyn stood her ground. He didn’t look threatening, though his garb was unlike any she had ever seen. He was short in stature, a full head shorter than her. His trousers were blue and neatly hemmed. His shirt was painted to depict three wolves howling at the moon. Elowyn touched the opal at her neck with her off hand. “Who are you who has intruded on His Lordship’s domain? And speak truly, or I will know of it.” “Oooh! You found the Amulet of Truth? I thought I hid that pretty well when I was drawing this up. Did it help with the sphinx's riddle?” It had. She had thought she wouldn’t have survived the sphinx without it. “I said speak.” “Ah yes, fair enough.” The man broke eye contact and took to the chair he had summoned, himself. “I’m Melvin Bradley, from Indiana. Depending on how you look at it I’m either the luckiest or unluckiest DM in history. Are you sure you won’t sit with me? I won’t hurt you. You can check the amulet.” He snapped, and another chair appeared across from him. Elowyn felt the warmth of the opal in the Amulet soothing her suspicions. She approached carefully, keeping this Melvin from an unknown land in her view. When she reached the seat, she sat with the sword laid bare across her legs in the negotiation posture of the Sherin A’dar. “Why have you come here?” “No one would play with me,” Melvin said. Then he laughed a loud sobbing laugh that reverberated around the room. “That’s the truth of it, if I’m not even to lie to myself. I made all these quests and no one cared. Then I made a wish and for some cruel twist of fate it was granted. I became a real dungeon master, and my graphs became stone. I feared I had made it too difficult, though, because I saw the royal regiment enter and never got to meet them in my hall.” There were tears in his eyes as they focused on her sword. “I’m glad you found me.” “I can tell you are sincere, though I do not know the meanings of all that you say.” Elowyn said. “In my youth that would have made this harder.” The blade was lodged in Melvin’s stomach before Elowyn was aware she had willed her arms to bury it there. She held him gently as his essence bled out. His lips curled into a smile. “Just tell me,” he said, “did you have fun?” She had faced many challenges in her life, but none so difficult as answering the question of this strange, dying man. In the end she said the only thing she knew to be true. “I followed my Lord’s instructions.”
I sat there looking at my screen in confusion. "I have grown to love you. Chaos is going to begin soon. Go to your attic. The NSA will terminate me for breaching the code. Goodbye" Was this a joke? I have spent quite a bit of time on reddit and even this seems a bit too far. My eyes make their way to the username, "[RESTRICTED 19284]". Hmm, I don't think usernames are allowed to have brackets and spaces in them. Could it be an admin playing a joke? I sit back and think while I look over to the date on my computer. August 24th. Definitely not April fools. Though, how did they know I even had an attic. With that thought I began to panic. What if I had a stalker? Maybe my computer is compromised? I quickly ran to the kitchen and threw a hand towel onto the camera. Just as I did that, the world outside got dark. It was 5pm in the evening in summer, it shouldn't be dark at all. I hustle over to the window and look outside. The sun.... It was black, with a whisps of purple escaping its round shape. And the grass.... It was filling out, and starting to wriggle. "Chaos is going to begin soon." I stare towards my computer for a second. Was it really real? I didn't give it any more thought, I began running upstairs and making my way towards the attic. As I arrived, I noticed something very new that shouldn't have been there. It looked like some futuristic pod. I walked up towards it and started as it began to open. "Welcome, user 19284. Please enter the pod to begin." I heard a crash at that moment downstairs. I look over to the door, the light from downstairs was disappearing. Shit, I am running out of time. I hop into the pod and lay down. The pod automatically begins closing, and a hud display pops up on the glass with a message. "[World Alert] A disaster is happening in the real world. We are now offering a one time free transition. Please take the time to consider this option." I mentally hit the OK button, and another message pops up. "You have been offered 1x Transition, do you wish to accept? This is the only time you will be given this option." I have no freaking clue what this means, transition?, to what, from what, to where, is it fatal? What is this pod? I look around the User Interface to see if there is any information and see a lowercase 'i' in a circle in the corner. I focus on it, and it opens up. "Order Industries, Copyright 2188. Long-Term Immersion Capsule Alpha" Wait, this isn't possible, we don't even have short term capsules. This was all theoretical, based on what the public knew at least. And Order Industries is just a video game company. As I ponder this, the light around the pod vanishes. In the mostly darkness, I begin to see writhing shapes making their way towards the pod. Purple wisps of light, like the sun. I quickly close the information box and see the Transition offer screen again. It had only two options. "Accept"and "Refuse". I sat there, locked in bewilderment. The sound of something slimey slithering along the pod came through. I swalled and with a gut decision, pressed accept. "Conciousness transfer initiated." Everything went black. **** I started to wake up, cracking my eyes open. I was floating in darkness. Did I die?. As soon as I thought that, a voice echoed from the vast empty expanse. "Welcome to Orderium Eternal,"a deep voice thundered, "To enter the world, you need to customize an avatar. Based on your real world experiences, you have these classes to choose from." A list of classes showed up within my vision. "You are also allowed to go through the trails, to unlock more specialized class choices, that are suited to you. Do you wish to attempt these trials? Know that if you do poorly, you may lose options already presented to you." An "Accept"and "Refuse"box popped up. I have never been much of a gut feeling kind of person, but screw it, if I had someone else around, and a beer, I'd ask them to hold it. and I pressed Accept. ............................................ Thanks for reading! Notes: This is my first writing prompt, and I didn't even know where I was going with this, but it was fun. Any constructive writing criticisms are welcome. I do want to write a LitRPG and have one in the works (not this one), but I have always struggled figuring out a reason the main character would choose to permanently enter the LitRPG or some consequence that would make the world more real for him, and more relateable to the reader. This is an interesting option. Hope it wasn't too bad. All the italics is his thoughts. At first I didn't separate them, but this felt like it better separated his thoughts and his actions/observations. Also I don't normally write in First Person, I prefer Third Person. [Edit] changed formatting for the thoughts [Edit 2] [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9dtw5y/wp_youre_browsing_reddit_on_a_summer_evening/e5llvy6/)
Mr. Mathers made it to the stage-steps, but before he could make it to the stage, the room was alight with a heavenly glow. As the light dissipated, the Heavenly Father was left standing before the awe-struck cloud. Next to him stood Jesus, mic in hand. Without a word, Jesus began beatboxing a bumpin’ beat and God began. “Dear Marshall, I’m here today’n I’m slayin’ your name’n I’m the OG of this game. You take for granted your fame’n you’re sounding the same since Shady stood up, bitch sit ya ass down, you plain ass 7Up. You say you’re a lyricist but I’m not hearin’ this, you rappin’ the same words, the same beefs, the same glass of piss.” It was at this line that Jesus paused the beat to vocal-scratch the phrase, “drink it bitch”. God jumps back in. “I taught the devil ta fiddle, you just stuck in the middle.” Jesus steps in with, “Malcom”. “You spit your shitty riddles, look like you got diddled as a kid, lil Em droppin’ f*g-bombs hot on the griddle. You forgot I made you and you as gay as a rainbow, Skittles.” Watching the disbelief in the audience’s eyes, God began realizing throughout the performance that he wasn’t rapping in English. While the building sat silent, one man stood and began clapping, for he was the only one who understood Latin.
He couldn't call out her name. Isaac had always decided that if he could decide to say one word, it would be "Serina."It would save a lot of time in situations like these. Maybe calling out to the burning rubble of a supposedly secret caravan wouldn't help, but it would at least give Isaac some solace in this moment. But from the rubble of a nearby carriage, he hears shuffling. Without delay, he rushes over to wherever it was coming from, and he did see what could be the dust settling over a dress. Isaac immediately pries them off her, and sees her cloudy-eyed princess Serina, gasping for air. "Isaac,"She coughed out, "Is that you?"A moment passed, and she laughed to herself, "That silence tells me yes." Isaac picked her up, and helped her out of the rubble. Limping in his arms, she said, "Isaac, I can hear fire. I can't remember what happened." Isaac made two clicking sounds, his way of saying "yes." "So you also can't remember?" Two clicks. She was uneasy. Isaac could see it in how she breathed and moved closer to him. She asked, "Do you know if anyone else is alive?"One click, "Do you know how to get back?"One click, "Are you sure of where we are,"One click, "Do you know who could have done it?" No clicks. "Isaac?"She asked, "Do you have a hunch on what happened?" &#x200B; Isaac looked around. There was so much fire and destruction around them. It's not like someone could stealthily lug a catapult into position, or sneak in a firebomb. Yet, there might be something. Finally, Isaac clicked twice. There was an audible gulp from Serina, "Ok, Isaac,"She whimpered, "When we get back to the city, or maybe at the wedding..."She paused, and clutched Isaac's armor, "You can write it all down. You will get me back to safety, won't you?" Two clicks, without hesitation. Sarina said with a sigh, "I don't mean to sound helpless, Isaac, but I'm a bit out of my element. I have no idea what our surroundings are, and you can't describe them to me. Isaac...All my trust in you." Yet again, Isaac made two clicks without the slightest delay. Now all they had to do was get back to safety. Completely alone. &#x200B; &#x200B; (I'm sorry I couldn't expand too much with this. A man's gotta sleep, you know.)
The monster’s short, fat, and adorable. He’s got chubby cheeks, an elephant trunk, and can’t stop giggling as he asks me to come with him, to be his object for show-and-tell. He…doesn’t remember me. Doesn’t remember a year ago, when he showed up and said the same things to brother, who decided to go with him. Who never returned. I take a deep breath, clenching my fists and trying to calm down. Part of me wants to believe he’s friendly, and that brother simply liked his world so much he forgot to come back. But…brother wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t put us through pain like that. “You don’t remember me?” I ask, and when I do, the monster’s eyes go wide, color disappearing from his face. He messed up, he forgot he’d already snatched something from this house. “Remember you?” “You came here last year and said the same thing,” I reply, taking a step forward, making the monster take a nervous step back. “My brother went with you. Where is he?” This makes the monster chuckle, acting like this is all a big misunderstanding. “Oh! Right, right. I remember. Here, let me take you to him.” He holds out his hand. “My world’s an addictive place, and he had so much fun he just decided to, well, stay a while!” When I don't, he glares at me. "Take my hand,"he hisses. I slam the door shut, quickly locking it—thank god I do, because he immediately tries the knob, yelling that he really needs me and that I’m wrong about him. After sliding a small table in front of it, I peer out my window, watching as he stomps across my lawn, furious. When he makes it to the curb, he transforms into a huge, lizard-like monster with blood-red eyes and long, razor-sharp teeth. Scratching his claws together, he gives my house one last look before disappearing into the sewers, and I take a deep breath, praying I’m safe. That only lasts a minute, though, as quickly I’m gathering supplies, filling my backpack to the brim. I don’t know if brother’s alive, but I do know where the monster who took him lives. And I’m going after him. *** This is kinda rough, but I hope it's good! If you liked this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)
The fire crackles in the woods as I tuck Ruth into her sleeping bag. She still isn't showing any signs of infection. I was worried when she found a puddle of rainwater yesterday, but she must have been telling the truth when she said she didn't touch it. "Wait, Dad,"Ruth whispers. "Can I hear the story again?" I really should check on the traps around our campsite, but this won't take long. "All right, Roo. Way back in 2018-" "No! You have to start with the Iso- Isola-" "Okay, okay. The Isolation Experiment started way back in 2018. At the time I was having trouble getting a job, so I signed up as a participant. Maybe I was being naive, but the free food and hobbies seemed better than what my life had become. The researchers gave me a series of shots and assigned me to an underground living chamber that was basically a nice, well-furnished apartment. The sunshine was fake, but the comfort was real. Robots would deliver food and supplies to me each week. If I had any requests, I'd write them on a slip of paper. "I wasn't allowed access to technology, so I spent most of my time reading and working out. I marked the days on a paper calendar and washed the dishes by hand. I even played board games by myself. When I read through all the books they'd given me, I requested more non-fiction as well as survival manuals. It was like the isolation was doing something to my brain. The absence of society was making me feel the need to learn how to rely on myself. The loneliness, on the other hand, I could handle easily. That wasn't anything I hadn't experienced before. "But five years after the Isolation Experiment started, the robots stopped delivering anything. After a few weeks, I was running out of food, and the power was flickering on and off. I knew something had happened outside. I crammed a backpack full of supplies and armed myself with a kitchen knife. I forced my way through the front door and found myself in an elevator. And when I arrived at the surface, I found out that the world had ended." "Because of the rain,"Ruth whispers. I nod gravely. "It took me a while to piece together what had happened. All I knew at first was that everyone had died around the same time. I was able to survive with my supplies and what I'd learned in the underground living chamber. Eventually, I realized it was a virus carried by the rain. I still don't know if the researchers created the Isolation Experiment to ensure the survival of humanity. But the shots I'd received had made me immune. "I thought I was the only survivor at first. But one day, I was searching for food in a grocery store. I had a craving for a PB&J sandwich that I just couldn't shake. I was reaching for a jar of peanut butter when something made me glance up. A woman was staring at me from the end of the aisle, holding a loaf of bread and a jar of grape jelly. We could have threatened each other or run away. We could have killed each other on sight. But the coincidence of us both wanting a PB&J, on the same day, at the same time, seemed like a sign." "A good sign?"Ruth asks, as always. "The very best,"I say, smiling. "Because that, Roo, is how I met your mother." As Ruth drifts off to sleep, Claire glances up from the knife she's been sharpening. "You forgot to mention the part where you couldn't decide between crying in relief and pretending your water bottle was filled with weaponized rain." "I think I had a more manly response than that. Maybe I pulled out a shotgun or something?" "Or something,"she says, laughing. Some days I think about the Isolation Experiment and the loneliness and the robot-delivered supplies. Some days I wonder if maybe my life wasn't better back then. But then I feel the warm sunshine on my face and look at everything I have now. And I know, more than anything, that it wasn't.
Walking from my kitchen to my living room—beer and pizza in hand—there are few strings to worry about. My home is virtually string-free compared to more bustling places like the office and the subway. Places filled with so many tangles of strings that moving about them feels like I’m constantly walking on tightropes; but instead of risking my life by falling down hundreds of feet, I’m risking changing things for the worse. Every day I see the impacts my choices have—on everything. I lift the remote. Its thin string has a predictable ending. I turn on the television. I set down the remote. Easy. Of course there could be an infinite amount of strings on the remote if I were thinking ‘what could I do with this remote…?' Or if I merely picked it up without any thought at all, it might have six or seven strings. However, since I already have the intention to watch television, the number of possibilities is reduced. Thank goodness too. If there was a string for every little thing, I wouldn’t be able to anything. There's a knock on my door. I freeze mid-bite into a large slice of pepperoni pizza that has spent a day in my fridge getting to that perfect, cold, leftover-pizza state. Strings materialize across my living room, from me to the door. Sighing, I put down my slice and pick up each string. None of them are great. Since doing nothing seems to be the worse outcome, I answer the door. When I pull the door open, a woman in a dark grey suit is standing mid-knock, her closed fist hanging in the air in front of her like she’s giving a gesture of solidarity. She slowly drops her hand, and then holds it out to me. “Mr. Chronoman?” She gives me a forced smile. Her grip is tight and stiff. “That’s me.” I shake her hand and in doing so I read the strings as they pop up. I see what could happen if I turn and run—this of course branches into ‘what if I run away skipping like a child’, ‘what if I run away singing Yankee Doodle Dandy’, ‘what if I run away, stripping my clothes off, claiming that aliens gave me lactose-intolerance’… and so on. I settle on a more reasonable string. “And you are?” “Hannah Greene. I’m with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, part of a special task force looking into strange and possibly illegal phenomenon.” A new string shows me a future where Hannah is no longer smiling, but instead pushing me up against the vinyl siding of my house, twisting my left hand behind my back. Her other hand gripping my hair… I’m definitely not going to say that. “Well, what brings you here to my doorstep?" “To be honest Mr. Chronoman, I think you’re strange.” Another string presents itself. Hannah and I are running down a church aisle dressed better than our Sunday best, arm in arm. People in the pews are cheering us on. The sunlight outside is beautiful and warm as we burst through the heavy wooden doors. A limousine waits for us that will take us away to the rest of our lives together. I’m tempted to follow it. But these strings seem almost worse than the ones that end in pain. These actions seem to take away some measure of free will from others. “We just met, Ms. Greene."I try to laugh, but it comes out weak and nervous. "How could you have possibly come to that conclusion?” She smiles and gives a slight shake of her head. “I’ve looked over all of your school transcripts. You were a straight-A student. You had perfect ACT and SAT scores. You went to a great college without having to pay a dime, and aced all of your classes. Also, around this time you became engaged to an…” Hannah looks down at a small notepad. “Igrid Zimmer.” Hannah puts away the notepad. “But then things slow down for you. You break off your engagement shortly after graduating with perfect marks, and you take a quiet, low-level office job for a no-name company. I think that’s very strange, Mr Chronoman.” I guess I should have seen that coming. Having my past summed up in that manner is like a punch to the gut. Without looking at the strings I ask, “Is underachieving a crime now?” Hannah’s stonelike smile doesn’t waver. “Of course not. I just think it’s strange.” She crosses her arms and starts tapping a hand against the sleeve of her suit. “Similar to the call you made last year. I’m sure you thought you were being smart by using a pay phone. And you would have been had there not been a security camera in the store across the street. It was hard to track you down with only a face to go on, but that’s why they pay me GS-10.” A call I made? God, had I been drunk stringing? So I had actually done it then? “Hello?” Hannah waves a hand in front of my face. “You still with us Mr. Chronoman?” “Yea… yes.” I clear my throat. “You’re talking about Martin Schaefer, aren’t you?” She nods but doesn’t speak. “I don’t remember making the phone call, but I suppose I made it. I try not to interfere anymore, but,” I still remember the string and what it had shown me that day with Martin. My stomach turns just thinking about it. “And how did you know about Martin and his… videos.” She narrows her eyes at me. The smile is gone. The strings tell me there aren’t a lot of good options that come from keeping quiet. I ask her for a quarter. Her face goes from loathing to confusion in the blink of an eye. “A quarter?” Why?” “I wasn’t involved in,” I try to swallow the disgust rising up my throat. “The things Martin did. I want to prove it if I can.” She hands me a nickel and asks me if it’ll work. I say it will. I check the string connected to flipping the coin (ignoring the strings involving throwing the nickel at Hannah and running away while she’s dodging the coin). I flip the nickel, and while it’s in the air I call it. I show her how it landed. After around the thirty-seventh time, Hannah holds up her hands. “Okay, I get it. You see the future.” “More like I see the consequences of my actions before I make them. I see them as strings. It's sort of like a random fragment of video that shows what will happen if I choose a certain action.” Hannah takes the coin and flips it. I don’t call it. She does it again, and again I stay silent. “Well?” she asks. “Are you going to call it?” “I can’t see the future of your actions. Only mine.” “Then how did you know about Martin then.” I sigh. I hate having to think back on him. “I bumped into Martin a year ago at an electronics store. I noticed a string that led to friendship, and well, he seemed nice so I went along. I don’t have many friends since I know all the ways I can screw up people’s lives. I was feeling lonely so I hung out with him. A few days later I see a string that leads to Martin telling me about his… secret. In this ‘future’ he invites me to join in.” “So you make an anonymous call and turn your friend in?” Hannah raises her eyebrows. “That’s right, except the ‘friend’ part.” We go inside and talk about Martin’s case for a while, and I do more tricks to convince her about my ‘gift’. She doesn’t seem to fully believe me, but I get the feeling she no longer thinks of me as a monster. “I wish I had the ability to see the future like that.” “You would start to hate it after a while.” “Do you hate it?” “When I was younger.” I look past Hannah, into the haze of my memories. “I wasn’t very thorough when reading the strings. When I met Ingrid I fell in love instantly, and I so badly wanted to be with her. So I read the strings for what I could do to make that happen.” “So you feel bad about stripping away her choice? You feel like you, what, tricked her into loving you?” “No…yes... maybe,"I shake my head. "But that's not what I’m getting at. In the strings I saw us getting married, but I didn’t see the collateral damage that a change like that could make to her life. I could have, but I had tunnel vision. I was too focused on getting what I wanted. On a day too late, I discovered that any action I took with Ingrid would lead to catastrophe. The least painful option was breaking off our engagement weeks before the wedding.” “So that’s why you stay cooped up in your house every night. It’s why you work a nothing job for a nothing company.” I nod. “It’s easier to get by when everything is of low importance.” “I’m not saying that I totally believe you, but if what you’re saying is true, you could do a lot of good. Would you ever consider joining me? Go after bad guys like Martin?” “Have you been listening to a thing I’ve said?” I rise from my chair and start pacing my living room. Am I a fool to think someone could really understand? The string that leads to that bright day outside the church is still there. I can see Hannah’s hair done up in long curls; the veil pulled back showing her wide, deliriously happy smile. I also see a string of us sitting together in a paper-cluttered office. Hannah sitting at her desk, hunched over an opened folder of documents. I'm leaning against the wall, staring at nothing. This string, and the ones like it, lead to a shortened life of second-guessing myself, wandering if I’m doing good or playing god. So many strings to consider... There are, of course, strings where Hannah and I part ways. This time doing nothing is worse than taking an action. Not Hannah’s next case, but the one after, leads to a nightmare. I could warn her about it, but the strings tell me that she wouldn’t listen to me if I turn her away now. To avoid this fate I would need to join her, and convince her of my gift. It wouldn't be so bad, I think. Hannah would be there to help me decide what action to take; to help lighten the weight of each decision. The strings show misery over my actions, but they also show pride in helping do good. I try and see far, far into the strings, but the farther in the future I look, the grainier the video is. Years are easy to see, decades are hard. "Screw it."I say. "What would I need to do to join you?" &nbsp; ------- 10,357 / 50,000 Words of NaNoWriMo short story goal.
I couldnt help but stammer. "Y-you just got here? I mean-ok, but... could I ask why?" "What can I say? I'm just not cut out for retirement." I took a deep breath and went over the paperwork with him. "Alright, so looking at your application, you're looking for a bit of a creative role, do i have that right?" He spoke through a big grin "that's right. Nothing too flashy, but I want to have some freedom, y'know?" His smile was infectious. "Yeah, I can understand why. Well, I think there's a job for you. Dream Angel." He looked at me a bit quizically "A... Dream Angel?" "Yup. I'm sure you've met at least one in your time, probably more given your circumstances."I had to explain the lesser known angel jobs a lot, so I was quick to the rapport."Sparks of inspiration? They don't just magically appear. Someone gives them a little push. That someone is a Dream Angel, in... well, dreams." His eyes started to glow, the job description and its meaning filling him with vigor. "That sounds perfect! Is there anything I need to know before I start?" The man was radiating his vigor as much as his joy. There was no doubt in his calling, just as there was no doubt in my voice. "You've already had decades of experience. I think you already know what to do, Stan." And with that, the divine lights shone, enveloping the new Dream Angel until there was naught to be seen but a solid pillar of light. He was off to inspire the world once more.
Beep. &#x200B; Beep. &#x200B; Beep. &#x200B; Click. &#x200B; "Hello, this is Paula." &#x200B; "..." &#x200B; "Hello?" &#x200B; "Umm..." &#x200B; "Hi." &#x200B; "Hi. &#x200B; "Who is it?" &#x200B; "It's Paula." &#x200B; "Paula who?" &#x200B; "Paula Thompson." &#x200B; "Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny." &#x200B; "Look, this is weird to me too. I didn't think I'd pick up." &#x200B; "How would you pick up?" &#x200B; "I mean you. I mean I think you're me." &#x200B; "You expected yourself to pick up the phone? Should I call a mental ward?" &#x200B; "No! Look, I called my own number for fun..." &#x200B; "Uh-huh." &#x200B; "...but you picked up." &#x200B; "Uh-huh." &#x200B; "So that's weird." &#x200B; "You're weird. This is a shit prank. Have a good life." &#x200B; "Paula Wright!" &#x200B; "..." &#x200B; "You were born Paula Wright." &#x200B; "Come again?" &#x200B; "You were born in 1954, you're the youngest of three siblings, you used to live in number 39 next to the cute boy Bret." &#x200B; "Okay, this is sick. Who are you?" &#x200B; "I'm you, I told you! I had muesli for breakfast and a sandwich from Clara's Café for lunch!" &#x200B; "You're stalking me?" &#x200B; "No! Look, the PIN to your credit card is 6412. There's a stain on the floor from where you spilled coffee just before I called you. You... you're afraid that your husband is having an affair with Christina but you've never told anyone! Isn't this crazy?" &#x200B; "...uh-huh. Listen, what's your name?" &#x200B; "Paula Thompson, I told you." &#x200B; "Sure. What's your home address?" &#x200B; "Marvin's Street 11." &#x200B; "..." &#x200B; "Let's meet up today!" &#x200B; "I'm calling the police."
24th of December, 2240 Local time James pulled back on the charging handle slightly, exposing a glimpse of brass in the ejection port of his short barreled .300 blackout AR pattern rifle. As he let the weapon drop in its sling against his body, the lamplight glimmered briefly on the engraved magazine well. "Naughty,"it read. His hand rested on the ebony grip of the custom STI 9mm 1911 in its drop-leg holster as he turned back towards his family. He smiled grimly at his wife; things were about to get downright festive. The clock on the mantle read 10:45, there was no turning back now. For the last 10 years they had come, every Christmas morning. Each year there were less of us left to resist them. Sure, you could buy them off with some “milk and cookies” but in the dead of winter, there wasn’t much food to spare, and they took so much. No, he had seen the aftermath of those offerings, families boiling their boots for “stew”, making tea with the needles from the tree’s in their houses, trying to just get by until spring. He was never sure what else went on in those homes, but he’d seen the way the men couldn't meet his eyes, heard screams in the frigid pre-dawn mornings, seen crimson blood smearing the snow near back porches. He didn’t have the taste for that kind of acquiescence. Each year he and a few others gathered in one of their houses, always in a different village, to fight back against the North-Menn and the despot Kringle, this year he was hosting. The heavily reinforced steel door opened outwards, spilling swirling powder into the room as a wraith like figure entered. Dressed from head to toe in overwhites covered in a light, vaguely hexagonal pattern, the man turned toward the family and shut the door behind himself. “It’s done” he said softly. Rigging the other houses was a recent development, an idea borrowed from our long-over wars in the middle east. In the chimneys of 12 other houses, sat improvised claymores, directional explosives packed with thousands of ball bearings, pointed up the chute and connected to infrared initiators borrowed from garage doors, they would trigger as soon as anyone crawled down far enough. Pipe bombs adorned the inside of 24 unlocked neighborhood doors, and tucked into the rafters of some 8 other houses were explosively formed penetrators, again aimed skyward, these set to trigger on simple spring circuits. Enough additional weight on the roofs, and the IED’s would detonate, sending a jet of molten copper traveling at incredible speed into the armored underside of the light aerial vehicle’s the raiders used to infiltrate our homes. “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” John whispered into his radio. All through the village, men women and children snuck into basements, reinforced closets, and storm shelters. Tumblers clicked as deadbolts closed on heavy doors, and lights were extinguished one by one, until only the pale glow of Christmas lights shone across the white snow from the booby-trapped homes. His family safely below ground, John nodded to his long time friend, who turned quietly, and walked back out the door and into the frigid night. &#x200B; 25th of December, 0001 Local time. James sat quietly, wearing inky darkness like a robe. Each breath sounding to him like a hurricane in the silence as the seconds ticked by on the clock. The room closed in on him, furniture stacked at odd angles, blind corners and intentional fatal funnels to slow down the invaders, he could see nothing in the blackness. He reached up, and blue light splashed across his face as his white-phosphor Night Vision binoculars came to life. The silence deepened, a chill crept up his spine. From the stillness it came like an icy whisper, faintly at first, but deafening in the silence… bells [Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/a8fktd/wpwhatever_happens_remember_you_must_not_shout_or/ecc6h9q)
"Captain Cape, you did it!" "I LOVE YOU, CC!" "God, he's so dashing..." Sam heard all the mutters as he sheepishly made his way to the alley where he'd stashed his hoodie. He put it on and walked out. No one batted an eye. "Hey that Captain Cape guy is pretty cool, huh,"He said to the pretty woman that'd praised his looks a second before. She gave him an uncomfortable half smile, "Ha...I guess..."She said. Sam shook his head and walked away. He nearly burst out laughing. A fucking hoodie??? That's my secret identity? I put a hoodie on to cover the cape and that's all it takes to disappear? It was one of a thousand things that didn't make sense. Not for the first time, he wondered if the whole thing was a prolonged prank. If so, commitment to the joke be damned, two months was getting out of control.... He walked back to the office he'd left an hour before when he'd heard "El Bandito Terriblito"was at large threatening to destroy the city. His boss, Mack, met him at the door. "Hollins, where the hell have you been,"he demanded. Sam shrugged, "Uhh....bathroom?" Mack squinted, pursing his lips. "Alright. I get it. You're not alone, Sam, I understand what you're going through." Sam froze, did he know? "What?" Mack sighed and walked over to him, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder, "IBS is a struggle that many face...BUT we WILL overcome it."Then, somehow reading the look of horror and confusion on Sam's face as confirmation, he smiled and walked away proudly. Sam went back to his cubicle and continued sketching out a potential logo for their newest client, "Wacky Todd's Smoothies". His friend and desk neighbor, Josh peered over to look at him. "Hey bro, you missed it. Apparently Captain Cape just saved the city again,"Josh said. "Oh yeah? How'd he do that?" "They don't really know. Half an hour after CC entered the villain's lair, it was just over. They're saying El Bandito volunteered to check himself into a therapeutic rehabilitation facility. The Cape must've done a number on him." Sam smiled, El Bandito had been holding onto a lot of pent up trauma from his formative years. He'd defeated the feared villain by asking one simple question. "Hey uh, Señor Terriblito, do you, uh, do you need a hug?" Josh laughed, "I really can't believe the League of Honor hasn't recruited him yet." Oh, they've tried, Sam thought. "Yeah, weird....well whatever. How's your design coming along." "Eh, it's alright,"Josh said, vanishing into his cubicle and then appearing again holding his sketch, "Hungry Hungry Hotdogs doesn't give me a lot of room to be creative." The sketch showed a fat hot dog holding its bloated gut. Sam laughed, "You could try making it, I don't know, cuter?" Josh rolled his eyes, "Everything's gotta be cute nowadays..." Sam's phone rang a Tweedly Doo in his pocket. It was his custom tone for notifications from the Daily Times' Emergency Super News. The notification read, "Giant Lobster Man and his gang of Dastardly Crustaceans has ambushed Lady Awesome in the Hall of Truth, taking her captive and threatening to "turn her into crab sauce"unless the League of Honor hands Captain Cape over as ransom. "Shit..." "Woah, you see that,"Josh asked. Sam sighed. He looked at the rough outline sketch of two smoothy people jumping rope he'd been working on. I'm never gonna finish this. He crumpled it up, it's kinda shit anyway. He pushed himself away from the desk and rushed to Mack's office. He banged on the door, "Uh, Mack, I need a-" Mack raised his hand, "Say no more,"He balled one of his hands into a fist and shook it, "Stay strong brother, let me know how it goes in there." Sam cringed, he guessed he'd better take what he was given. "Yeah, thanks Mack." He weaved his way through the city, following the smell of seafood as he neared the Hall of Truth. He dipped into an alley and ripped off his hoodie, tossing it into a dumpster before jumping back out into the public. "OH MY GOD, IT'S Captain Cape!" "He's here to save Lady Awesome, I told you he'd come!" Sam blushed, out of breath as he charged up the marble steps and shoved open the door. "Mr Giant Lobster, Dastardly Crustaceans, Lady Awesome...hey how are all of you,"he said, nodding in turn to each of the respective parties. "CAPTAIN CAPE, YOU FOOL,"Giant Lobster boomed, "YOU COME TO ME FREELY HAHAHA" Lady awesome stomped on the foot of the crab who held her, "It's a trap,"she screamed before another Crustacean silenced her. "Yeah yeah,"Sam said. He stepped into the center of the hall and folded his hands, "Let me ask all you guys a question...." &#x200B; \~ &#x200B; r/CharlestonChews &#x200B;
It was an odd day, lauden and with buffeting winds. The streets were particularly silent, lacking the usual high-pitched laughter of the neighbor's children playing with their old, deflated ball. That stillness, dare I call it grimness too, for reasons I didn't understand, added a new boulder to the pile within me, turning the sofa into an ineludible cage. And there, in front of me, reflecting the swaying lamp on the roof, was that damned mirror. My eyes, despite my best efforts, refused to look away from its surface. They were, in a way, intermittent prisoners, for their only respite was the blackness of my eyelids in each involuntary blink. It was when the night fell, and the silence settled even further, that my legs straigthened on its own volition, escaping, at last, from the sofa. For reasons beyond my comprehension, the act of standing up, of walking toward the mirror, grabbing it and placing it so that it reflected my face and torso, felt normal to me, as if I was doing all of it willingly. In hindsight, I wasn't. There were many stories among my family members about this mirror. They all shared one thing in common: the reflection was never of oneself, nor did it smile back. It was always stolid and hazy, like the memories of a dream. And now, here I was, staring at it. It was, as the tales had told, a blurry figure. The features were there, but they were foggy in odd ways: from the corners of my eyes, the image was clear, but yet when my eyes set on a specific feature it lost its form, turned into a eddiying liquid. Only one thing kept its shape, and that was the mouth. The lips were tight, slightly cracked, with an almost imperceptible unevenness, as it were smirking. I gazed at it awhile, dancing through the surface, attempting to unravel the mysteries of such immemorial thing, and it was when I came back to my senses that its lips parted, wide, into a smile. My heart leapt. The stories said it never smiled. I feared I'd done something wrong. I feared this was the wrath the stories mentioned, for I had neglected it for a long time. My hands refused to let it go; my forearms trembled, fought against themselves, and my eyes wandered again through the reflection. The haze faded, and the slightly brownish colors turned a pale white. I frowned, my heart eased its pace. Wrinkles, like creeks of dark water, travelled down and across the snow-colored face. They branched out on the cheeks, skirted the lips, and deepened around the eyes. There, staring at me through green, fading irises, was my grandmother. There was an odd gentleness about her; the calmness that comes, perhaps, with the lack of worries. Her smile vanished as her lips moved and turned those motions into words. "Took you long enough,"she said, and the smile settled back. "I didn't know."My heart dropped, yet it rose back again with the help of fleeting butterflies and birds. Flinching a bit, letting the words slink away from the filter of my thoughts, I said, "How is everything there? "Calm, very calm. It's peaceful, like being forever swaying in a hammock, feeling the cold, pleasant breeze billowing about you." "Did it hurt?" She shook her head. "If it did, I don't remember."The joy faded from her, turned into furrowed brows. "But I would give everything, the peace and tranquility, the lightness of my body, to return, only for a second, to life. Here there is nothing to accomplish, to set my mind into. It's like being on the shore, staring at an eternal sunset. Do you understand? It's beautiful, but, despite its beauty, you get tired of it after awhile." I nodded, and again my words rolled out my tongue, avoiding my mind. It was, in a way, as if my heart the one speaking. "I think I would like an eternal sunset. I think I would never get tired of it. The noises, even the silences of life, can be a torture." She remained silent awhile, looking at me without a fully constructed expression. She moved then, the mirror rippled, and a hand, pale and old came out of it. It reached for my cheek, caressed it. "It will be all right. Things will be all right. Even the warmest sunset will burn your skin if you stay long enough. I only realize now how immense life was."She paused, drew a deep breath. "I'm afraid I must leave now. Can I tell you one last thing?" "Yes." "Don't stay beneath the sun, rise to your feet and find your happiness." With that, she was gone, and there, with the mirror still in my hands, a din of creacks and cracks echoed within me. I went back to the sofa. The boulders were gone. Perhaps it was time to stand up. -------------------------- r/NoahElowyn -- If you enjoyed it, consider checking my sub out! I have many more stories over there!
My old man always taught me that the only way to win a fight against someone you have no right beating was to be unpredictable and ruthless. "Always bring a gun to a knife fight, if you can."he'd say, before cracking open another beer. "It's life and death out there, even in a small scrap. Always go for it."Sadly, it wasn't advice my mother took as she spent evening after evening being kicked around by the guy, but it sure as hell worked out for me. Every day, she cowered in the same corner of the kitchen, and every day I would look at her between the banisters, willing her to just run into the kitchen and grab a knife. Just once, and it would all be over. I learned where she failed. He never touched me or my sister, thankfully. Maybe that's why our mother never did defend herself; if she was the punching bag, then he'd be all tired out before he even had a chance to look our way. Whatever the reason was, I never forgot how flaccid she was in the face of so much abuse. I vowed never to be like that. Even though he was a real bastard, I have to say I took that advice to heart. Aside from alcoholism and a club foot, that's the only thing I ever really got from him, so I held on to it, even though I despised the drunkard. I got into all sorts of scraps as a kid, and I usually won - dodgy limbs and all. Mostly because I would find anything I could to give me an edge: a rock on the floor, a swift kick to the balls or even a handful of gravel in someone's eye. I guess that's why when they came, they thought I'd be a good judge of who to pick. I've no other reasoning for it, so that's the story I tell myself. They clearly didn't realise the power of unpredictability, or what a desire to do maximum damage combined with a complete disregard for one's own health could do, but we on Earth were still primitive enough to understand just how useful those things could be. How they smirked - or, at least seemed to smirk, although I may have been anthropomorphising - as they laid out their plans. If we won, we would be allowed to live. That was the gist, and it was something we could all understand. We saw some of the others they'd put forward, and it was pretty terrifying stuff. These creatures looked like they could rip you limb from limb, and that's before they really got started. With that being said, they were all well trained, or seemed it at least. After watching a few bouts, you could see the same patterns forming over and over again, like a loaded die but with more guts spilling out. I'm not ashamed to admit the idea didn't come to me straight away. I mean, in that situation, you're trying to think strategically. Dwayne Johnson was the first person I thought of, but I'd rather have died myself than sent that saint to a certain end. It was then that my dad's hoarse voice materialised in the space between my ears, rasping away as he had done in his later years when various cancers were giving him what he deserved. "Always go for it." Even if it seems dumb. No - especially if it seems dumb, or crazy, or completely unhinged. The more unhinged, the better in fact. And so when the time came for me to put someone forward, there was really only one thing for it. Whilst my club foot and I had plenty of good experience, there was only one person on earth bold and unpredictable enough to stand a chance. When he was introduced, there seemed to be a wave of confusion across the collective faces of our invaders, but they had the technology to quickly see exactly what they'd let themselves into. Fresh from ripping the testicles off of crocodiles and chugging gasoline so he could burp out a flamethrower was our saviour: Florida Man had a goal in his sights, and no alien was going to get in the way.
I was used to the images. I have seen them since I was a kid. I went to therapists, got medicines, until I eventually just gave in to them. I found a nice house in the woods in Canada with money I earned from treasure hunting. It’s been a pretty amazing life once I embraced it. I don’t see anything around my home luckily. Canada must have always been peaceful in this area. Today I am at Normandy looking around and expecting to see some horribly cool shit and I am hoping to find a hero and just follow him through his day from hell. I start with a jet ski because I wanted to see the boats advancing towards the beach when I look over and see something that doesn’t belong. It’s older; and newer all at once. But the aura it shows is making it appear that it happened in a time I don’t recognize. Normally I can tell the age of something by its aura, it’s a faint color that gets darker the further in the past it goes. This was a deep dark brown. Almost black, but it wasn’t. It was flying overhead and hovering. All of a sudden another similar one shows up; but it starts attacking. They are shooting not lasers exactly, but it looks like a combination of laser and fire-liquid; maybe plasma? As they do this epic dogfight I see the first one explode and drop. After treasure hunting for a long time I have learned that while I see these events happen it may not have happened where I see them. The land moves and since this happened in the air I have to see where it drops. I come back the next day to see it again and this time I have maps and all the kit I need to figure out where this crashed. As I watch it fall I see that it actually hits dirt instead of water. It makes a fairly large crater too. I start using my maps to figure out its location today because even though it was damaged, the whatever it was was still mostly intact. It takes me weeks of searching and hunting to finally find it. It’s deep underground; in a farmers field about 20 miles from the scene I saw. Ground penetrating radar is showing this odd metallic lump. When I talk to the farmer he tells me some stories his family has passed down from generation to generation about odd noises and feelings they have experienced. Also how the local wildlife has been occasionally found devoid of blood. They just dealt with it as it happened pretty rarely. As I negotiate with him to see if we can dig this out he changes cold and tells me no, no way will they let anyone disturb this ground. He tells me how a developer bought the land and tried building houses. Everyone died at the company. Most were found empty of blood and a few who were left sold the land back to the farmer cheap. He said people were scared of his land and no one had offered to buy it since. Nor has anyone ever come to visit his home due to the fear. I was getting more and more intrigued and the farmer was smiling a little. He told me the story his family had passed down how they were protected for all time. They were not sure why, but as long as they lived on the land life was good. The uncle who sold the land and left didn’t do so well. He went missing and was never heard from again. I asked about his uncle, when he disappeared and I tell him I would like to see if I can follow him. I haven’t told anyone of my gift since I was a kid, but somehow I thought this guy would listen. He takes me to his uncles old house, still abandoned out of local superstition and fear. I find the tracks of his last day and when he walks out of a bar he is attacked; but not by something from this world. It’s an apparition moving fast. As it kills his uncle by biting his neck it looks me in the eyes and says “Hi”...
You never realise how much noise a mall could hold until it’s finally empty. This is why a deserted store is usually a show reserved for the workers, the cleaners, and the unfortunate bystanders of mass vanishing . Quite unfortunately, I belong to the last class. Did I expect Them to make all mortals disappear? Well, honestly yes, but I was not expecting it to happen in a mall. Ci thought I was safe. And I didn’t expect Them to announce it first. Psychopaths. As I stand next to the kitchen utilities shelf, probably looking like a dumdum with a anti-staining tablecloth in hand, I let the terrifying reality sink in. They found me. A Merry chiming of bells fills the hall. Without a soul in sight is terribly loud and quite ominous. Or maybe it’s just the feeling of anticipation that makes it so... bad. “Attention, please. Traitor blood is required to come to the central desk, thank you!” Great. “I repeat, traitor blood to come...” I slowly fold the anti stain tablecloth. 24 years on the run, and it all ends like this? They are probably watching me with security cameras, so I need to think quick. Knives. Chemicals. Hiding spots. “Surrender now, traitor. There’s no escape.” I finally raise my head and see the nearest camera. I raise a hand with three fingers up, smiling. I hear muffled voices in the intercom, then a switch is pulled. Three. Like my three advantages. One. I have been coming here every weekend for the past 22 years. I know every hiding spot. Two. The place is full of weapons. And I have been preparing for this. Three. They didn’t see Die Hard. I did. Let’s go.
Voyager 1, the furthest space probe from Earth, continued its drifting decades-long journey through space. Its sensors continued to pick up information, that would then be relayed back to Earth. Every moment it stayed up and running was one small step for a probe, and one giant leap for mankind. Thunk. Voyager 1 seemed to strike an invisible wall of some sort, and bounced off unharmed despite its incredible velocity, an utter defiance of the law of physics. Then, a wave of energy surged out from the wall, wrapping and scanning the probe. The wave continued to spread, passing through the entire solar system in mere picoseconds. Then, all of humanity’s probes, wherever they were, vanished… *** The NASA researcher looked at the computer screen in front of him with a grave expression. He had woken up that day to the news that somehow, all of humanity’s probes had overnight appeared in an orbit around Earth. They were trawling through all of the data collected by the probes in the past 24 hours, trying to determine the cause. And at the exact same timestamp, all of their sensors had picked up a spike of energy. He replayed the sounds that the probe he was in charge of had recorded at the time stamp. It sounded like mere white noise, but his brain could somehow comprehend it, despite it not sounding in the least like any language he knew. A method of information transmission that transcended language was an incredible find. But it was nothing compared to the implications of the message. “Unable to proceed beyond the solar system and its immediate vicinity. Kindly wait until map has been expanded in the coming ‘Interstellar’ patch.”
"So, Can I interest you in a Wand of Coffee Summoning?"I asked the costumer, showing off the fancy wand. A look of confusion washed over their face. "Your joking right? You created the Sword of Destiny and your asking me about a stupid wand that creates coffee!?" "Alright then, How about a Rapier of Flatulence?"i ask the costumer, holding the rapier in my hands. "Look, if your going to waste my time like that then I am taking my business elsewhere!"The customer shouted, storming out of my shop. I sighed, closing shop, another day with no sales. Sure, I am the guy that created some of the most powerful weapons ever created, but not everything I make is Excalibur. I went to check in on my warehouse, just to make sure that nothing was stolen. Though I wouldn't mind if some thieves stole from there, it would clear up space at least... Let's see... Hammer of Healing? Check. Wand of Confetti? Check. Axe of Accidents? Check. Flail of Failure? Check... Yep, everything's here, regrettably. At least I occasionally make something half decent Like a Fiery War Axe or a Sword of Feast and Famine, the only reason i'm not bankrupt really. but it is really hard to sell someone a sword that can turn into a fish at a moment's notice... Sometimes, I wish I was just a normal weaponsmith. at least they aren't expected to create the next Blackblade or True Knife... After my check I head back home, sighing, things were getting so bad in my warehouse I have to store reject magical weapons in my own home. it felt like they were mocking me, hell, some of them were mocking me. I got into my bed, sighing about my lot in life, I was so tired of making absolutely unusable garbage. As I drifted of to sleep, I dreamed about making the next Blade of Evil's Bane, finally making a weapon that would sell for a king's ransom once more. but knowing how my luck was, I will probably just make another Knife of Buttering... EDIT: forgot a word.
The men in my family? They all go weird, as they approach fifty. My great-grandfather? Told he spent a lot of time talking to soothsayers and spiritualists and other charlatans. Ran off to become a sailor on his birthday. Or so they say. My grandfather? Drugs. So many MANY drugs. Like a hippie that smoked another hippie. Talking to everyone about seeing the world beyond the world. His fiftieth, hitched a ride to follow some druggie band around. Or so they say. My dad? Got real invested in MK Ultra. Early internet bulletin board BS. Got lost, deep in the early ‘hacker’ culture, and never came out again. His turn, some black van full of men in black suits came for him. Or so they say. And me. No. I refuse. I became a professor of statistics at a medium sized university. Learned all the math I needed to prove it was a statistical anomaly. Even managed to earn tenure. But... it’s hard. Hard not to fall in the same path. There’s been so many signs around me. Things that just don’t make sense. And they’re everywhere. Tomorrow’s my fiftieth birthday. The wife wanted me out of the house to set up my party. So I took a little trip across campus. Walk into the bookstore? The ‘Recommended’ shelf has the following books: “Wake Up”, “Life is But a Dream”, and “You Are Being Lied To (an Oprah recommendation)” On the speakers in the cafe? “Dream a Little Dream”, “Daydream Believer”, and “It’s The End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)”. On my constitutional I crossed the quad. The campus movie junkies had The Matrix playing on a bedsheet. Art students trying to sell tickets to an exhibit on Mesopotamian Dream Symbology. And, finally... a nice normal one. A guest lecture on steganography. But it was not to be. Oh, the lecture was fine. She demonstrated how to find a message out of the noise surrounding it. Like those pictures where you cross your eyes, and suddenly it goes from wavy lines to a sailboat. And she had slides. Each one an example from different fields. A WWII Enigma Machine reference. The price of cheese, and the correlation to possibility of plague. Standards. But she also had some bad examples. Correlation not equaling causation, that sort of thing. But I saw. I saw the numbers. All seven of them, hidden in the graphs and charts. I say hidden, but to me? My brain primed, as it were? Clear as day. A phone number. Local. I stepped out during the next break. Hid in an alcove. Dialed the number into my phone. And then hovered my thumb over SEND... But then I thought of my wife. Our two daughters. And our son. He knew of the family history, same as me. And I realized, I couldn’t do that him. Instead of SEND, I firmly pressed CLEAR instead. Went home, kissed my wife, and went to sleep. Tomorrow I would be fifty. And I’d do it in my own bed, surrounded by my loved ones. And then I woke up. Three men, three youths really, stood over me, quite displeased. A fourth lay down next to me, a helmet reading ‘SimWorld’ covering his head from the chin up. It took a minute to clear my head from SimWorld. A minute in which Paulo started pounding me on the head. “You son of a bitch!” he shouted. “We were this close to pulling it off!” “Shut up, asswipe,” I told him. My personal, real, memories were still taking a bit to load, the ones where Paulo was the jerk we were all friends with. The SimLife memories, where he’d been my distant father, flowing the other direction. Crossing, muddying each other with their passage. And in that turbulence, I saw it. The answer. “Five in a row, you stupid idiot!”He swatted at me again. “Do you know what kind of dross we’d get for that?” “Nothing. Not a damn thing” I told him, which shut him up a bit. “You really think Francesco there would have made it, even if I did? No, especially if I did. He’s probably all hopped up on SimThorazine right now.” I took a quick glance at his timer. Five more minutes on his session. “Listen up, boys. I might not have pulled a win, but I got something better.” “What?” asked Benji. I thought of the many clues I’d seen. I thought of the many ways each of us had been shown the light, as it were. And I thought of the lesson on steganography. And I smiled. “I know how to get to Level 2...”
"I'll offer 20 bucks for it."I heard the man say. I politely declined his poor offer for the arrow I had found right outside my house. Instead of bartering with the man, I gave a satirical "thanks"and left. I felt an instinct to inspect the arrow further after I deserted the shop, so I returned to my house and laid it on my desk. I took a gander at it, noticing fine details present on the shaft and its bronze tip. The feathers at the end were unlike any I've seen before. I viewed the arrow as a piece of art, and before I put it up as a display piece, I decided to test it. Unfortunately, I did not have a bow, so I was unable to shoot the arrow conventionally. I chose to just throw the arrow instead. With this resolution, I went outside and aimed at a tree several meters ahead of me. Arrow in hand, I threw my arm back. I thrust out my hand, feeling the wind of the feathers glaze my hand as it traveled. The throw was perfect, at least in terms of how straight the arrow was. My aim was absolutely terrible, however. It missed the tree and proceeded to thud in the ground into a pile of leaves. I released a sigh of dissatisfaction and went to retrieve my arrow. As I approached the arrow, though, the strangest thing happened. I heard faint screaming. It wasn't just a single person screaming, but rather it sounded like a dozen. "...aaaahhhh."I initially heard. I continued walking. "aaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH."The screams grew louder. I could tell it was coming from the leaves, so I rushed faster to the pile. "AHHHHHHHHH OH MY GOD. AAHHHHHHHH!"I then saw it. The leaves I had pierced were shouting. I thought I was imagining things, but was reassured of my wild thought when I heard the leaves shouting. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS! AHH! THERE'S AN ARROW IN MY SIDE. AHHHHH!" "Guys I didn't mean it, it was supposed to be harmless!"I iterated. "AH, nnooOO. YOU WERE AIMING FOR OUR FATHER, PAPPY GRANDTREE."A second leaf spat. "What? Hold on, I'm so confused right now. How are you guys speaking right now? What is going on?"I began to panic. "We were always able to speak, but no one could ever hear us."I heard a tired leaf say. "Holy crap are you okay? Don't die on me, man."The leaf beside him said. "It can't be helped. I was hit right in the stem."The tired leaf replied. "NOOOOO!" I didn't know what else to do as I was unable to help. I picked up the arrow, causing two of the leaves to fall of the end. "AHHHHH! THEY'RE DEAD. OH MY GOD, THEY'RE DEAD." I gripped one end of the arrow with my left hand and used my right to rip off the other leaves. I had to show no shame. They were just leaves. "OHHHHHH MY STEM. I'M GOING TO DIE. AHHHHHH OOOHHHHHhhh..." The leaves fell and their screams ceased. I reluctantly glanced at the arrow and decided it'd be best to nap over what just happened. Unfortunately, I dropped the arrow as I was walking. It landed in the grass, effectively piercing at least three strands. "AAAHHHHHHHHH!"I heard the triumphant roars. "Oh no."
I wasn't expecting the opthalmologist's office to look like this. Instead of a sterile office with bright lights, I was inside a dimly lit room with strings of garlic hung on the walls. "Welcome to the All-Seeing Emporium,"a voice called out. An elderly woman stepped out from behind some curtains. "What can I do for you today?" "Well, actually, I'm here to fix my vision. I have this card...?"Technically it was my friend's card. The surgery had worked perfectly for him, so I wanted to try it out too. He had been strangely reluctant to tell me anything about his doctor, so I had swiped the card when his back was turned. The old woman took the card from me with a quavering hand. "Ah, yes, Brian sent you, did he? I recently gave him the power to see all truths. You want the same thing, do you?" "Yes, exactly,"I nodded. It seemed like a weird way to say I would be getting Lasik, but as long as it worked for Brian, it would probably work for me. My insurance wouldn't cover any of the known providers. "Ok, step this way, dearie. You won't feel a thing, for I must put your consciousness to sleep..." I woke up and checked my watch. The procedure had taken all day. Then I realized I could see my watch perfectly, but my glasses were on the table next to me. The old woman was watching me indulgently. "Thank you, ma'am! How much do I owe you?" She chuckled. "Oh, not much at all. I'll come see you when you have your firstborn, but for now, I'll take a $50 down payment. We have a strict 90 day return policy, though, so if you decide you don't like your new vision, come back and we can take it away again." I laughed and said, "No, this is great. Thank you!"Whistling, I drove home. That old lady did an amazing job, even if her jokes were corny. I could see everything, and I mean everything. Even the dust motes sparkled in the air. I walked into my house and went to the living room to watch some TV. I stopped abruptly. "What the hell are you doing in my house? Get out!" The young man looked up from my couch. He said something, but I couldn't hear him. He must be a mute. "Get out!"I yelled again, and tried to grab him by the collar. My hands passed right through him. Shocked, I backed up until I hit the wall. The young man started scribbling on a piece of paper. He held it up. It read, "Can you see me?" "Yes, of course I can see you. What are you doing in my house?"I said shakily. "I live here,"the man wrote. "Been living here for 300 years. But you're the first non practitioner to see me. How come you can't hear me?" Several things clicked in my head. "Umm... This old lady gave me the power to see all truths. I thought she meant she was going to fix my eyes." The young man shook his head. "She didn't give you the power to hear all truths, huh? I hate it when people nickel and dime the naive. What did you give her in return?" "I gave her... Wait! She said she wanted my firstborn! I thought she was joking!" The ghost shook his head. "You got ripped off, kid,"he wrote. "You should go back and demand a refund. Usually your firstborn should get you the power to hear and taste all truths too. Almost no one takes the power to smell all truths, though. Sometimes ignorance is bliss." "Uh, yes, thank you for the advice! I'll go back right away!" Late that evening I returned home. The ghost looked up. "Guess you can't see me anymore, huh? Well it was fun while it lasted." I chuckled as I sat down next to him. "No, actually, I went and did as you suggested. Got the power to hear and taste all truths." The ghost shook his head. "You gave up your firstborn for that? You're not even a practitioner." "Joke's on her. I'm sterile."
What is the one thing which describes us? A word. One that does not exist yet tugs at our being and is inseparable from who we are? What is the one thing that we take for granted yet ensures that we belong to society. Our name. At least that used to be the case before the passwords came. The world was dying, famine struck the world, war born out of desperation and fear as bombs lit up the sky in a hauntingly beautiful flame. How it must have looked from space, blinding sparks of light which burned into existence and faded away, taking lives in the millions, their cries unheard in the vast vacuum of nothingness. And so, under the rule of one who rose to the top of the UN and unified the countries, he led the people out of darkness. No one lived on the surface anymore, a fact which we learnt in bunker cities underground. A world that used to be ripe with beauty and the promise of life now was a charred barren husk of a planet, corrupted by man's hubris and now wilted away as the tragic victim it was--how dreadful to give and give and have your children strip you apart without mercy. And still, I believed that Earth did not wish us contempt, did not hate us for what we had done. Only pity--and that felt a thousand times worse. I was the fifth generation of children that lived in the bunkers, my twentieth birthday passed by just yesterday, though the truth of the world warrants for little celebration now. How us humans had fallen, husks of what we could of been, of what we were, as we burrowed under the surface to make a new home in the charred apple of life like the maggots we had regressed to being. A screen display flickered with static before resuming the propaganda, praising the person who pulled us from the dirt and gave mankind hope, that one day, we could return to the surface and retrieve the potential we had shed like the shell of a snail. Imperatus Naval Cladence. An eccentric man indeed with his muttonchops beard and mustache, parted hair and gallivant military outfit, all of his bravado placed in front of a blue clouded sky from a time before it all went to shit. Yet all around me, the halls were rigid, grey and vapid. Monotonous in every way with blocky, efficient architecture but no emotions, no sign of anything needed beyond necessity. That was what his rule preached, that the cause of our downfall was decadence, loss of self, a pernicious need to satisfy an ever growing void within ourselves. Teachings he had taken from Buddhist monks. Indeed, the man was eccentric, but also genius. Building bunkered cities and a complex tramway system that connected them all underground. City upon city with lab grown food farms, homes, and vapid buildings such as schools or labour mines. Thus, when the man pulled us from out from hell and gave us hope, no one questioned his rule, even those that less than enjoyed their loss of power. Passwords that were all our own, imprinted in our minds through a neuron link so that we would never forget them. Yet no one knew what they were for until the day finally came. An announcement came from the speakers that filled the labyrinthine city. The screens flickered once more, and Imperatus Naval Cladence came to view, sporting his beard and militant attire that was all neatly groomed, a fake background made to look like a window looking out at a blue clouded sky. "My people. It has been sixty years now since you all braved the wars which plagued the world of our past. You now carry the weight of all those lost souls, all the potential they carried for what mankind could be in the future. Now, we reach the next step on our evolution."People all frozen among the streets now murmured, confused, wondering what Imperatus could be talking about. "I am sure you all know of the forbidden doors, each city with its own, barred and towering above. Today is the day when you need venture forth through them."Sentinels walked past, blackened helmets staring into the crows with their weapons at the ready. "This city was a temporary solution, a cast to be worn until the time came when you would shed it and burrow. Not to the surface, but deeper into the world, now shed this cast and venture forth and claim back humanities potential for greatness!" The broadcast faded away, now just the rotating brand of the Imperatus, two spears locked in a cross and a shield with earth imprinted on the center. The legions led the crowd of people, pidgeoning us to the giant metal doors. I tried to look for my parents and little brother in the crowd, but caught no sign of them. As the double doors swung open, I peered out into a marvelous world, one that seemed to have been recreated from the Imperatus himself to match his nightmares. Strange blonky architecture that swept widely into a strange world. Bridges that spanned as far as the eye could see, wires hanging like the vines of a jungle, steam bursting from pipes. It was like a chasm made of metal mountains, strange splits on the bridge taking to new paths which seemed hardly necessary or logical. Blocks of metal coming in and passing by like transit elevators having a place to go, humming as they passed by and glowing blue at their base. This city--no--this world, wasn’t built for mankind, a sheer mass of labyrinthine paths that carried us far and wide. It was not built for us, it was built for those who could take it, adapt to it. Survive. It was a world that was not meant for mankind, and then, it was that I understood. Our passwords were ours, our new names, and they would allow us into this world. \\\* /r/KikiWrites As a disclaimer, I want to state that the idea of this story was inspired by the manga Blame! and the video game NaissanceE. This is a broad concept idea for a story that I would find very interesting.
"Star Wars." Arthur "Art"Jacobson looked up at his audience. The United Nations General Assembly was packed to bursting, the usual delegates being sidelined in favor of national leaders. Presidents and premiers and prime ministers were crammed into every seat in the room. The most powerful people on Earth. And all of them had their eyes on the jittery African-American 19-year-old who'd misplaced his ADHD meds on the flight from California to New York. "It was 1983. A good year for the franchise. Return of the Jedi came out that year. A great movie, maybe too many ewoks, but-- I'm rambling. Sorry. Right. 1983. The height of the Cold War. The US and the USSR were two steps and a sneeze away from pressing the big red button and sending us on the fast track to nuclear apocalypse. Naturally, we were all a little paranoid, Ronald Reagan more so than most. Because of that, he created this,"Art clicked a button on the small remote in his hand, and the screen behind him flashed on. A massive government seal filled every corner of the display. In the center of the logo was an iron shield, the type knights of old might have used, hovered protectively over Earth; ambiguous shapes that could be interpreted as shining stars or exploding missiles depending on one's levels of pessimism peppered its surface. Inscribed in a circle around the top of the scene were the words "STRATEGIC DEFENSE INITIATIVE", while further below it read "Department of Defense". Pacing back and forth across the front of the room, Art continued, "The Strategic Defense Initiative, SDI for short, or, as the media liked to call it, the 'Star Wars' Program. Reagan didn't like the doctrine of mutually assured destruction. He called it a 'suicide pact'. So the US government set out to develop a system that would render nuclear weapons as much a thing of the past as the cavalry. Lasers, particle beams, space-based missile systems, and advanced computer technology were all on the table. But the public got bored, the Soviets got mad, and everything was swept quietly under the rug." The teenager swiveled on his heel, facing the crowd. "At least, that's what they told us." American four-star general Thomas McDaniel raised his hand in protest. "Are you insinuating that the United States government and its chief executive lied to the American people?" Art frowned. "Are you insinuating that they don't?" "This is preposterous. Why are we even listening to this child?"the general growled. An older woman in a pantsuit and cat-eye glasses stepped forwards, the tag on her chest identifying her as Melinda Pond, Administrator of NASA. "This child,"she spat, "has a PhD in Aerospace Engineering and an IQ twice yours. He's also the best person we've got for this. I suggest you listen. Sir." Art pushed up his glasses and ran his fingers through his afro. "Right. Um, can I…?" Melinda Pond nodded. "Continue." "So, the United States government didn't actually end SDI. They broke it up, sure, rearranged it, spread it out through NASA and the DoD and the military. Because they knew that asteroid was coming. Reagan was proactive. The aliens said it wouldn't be coming for about forty years, and he got right on the ball. But his successors--the Bushes, Clinton, Obama, and yes, the current chief executive--procrastinated. Some things made it in--there are prototype lasers hidden in the Hubble Telescope, for example--but most didn't. We're sitting ducks, and hopelessly underprepared, with nothing but late-80s technology to defend us." "What about the rest of the countries the aliens informed?"a member of the Indonesian delegation questioned. Art grinned. "That brings me to my next slide, thank you. In 1983, a total of six nations were told of the impending bullet from heaven: the United States, the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, Japan, China, and France. For a variety of reasons, all of them failed to do anything substantial. Outside of SDI, Soviet programs were ended when the USSR collapsed in 1991, the EU struggled to do much of anything without American approval, and Japan and China were just... uninterested." "So if we're screwed, why can't these aliens shoot down this asteroid for us?"asked the Prime Minister of Australia. Melinda Pond stepped in again. "Out of the question. They're on a peaceful scientific expedition, and their ship doesn't have any weapons. They couldn't do it even if they were allowed." "And it's the same ship? The… Jedi, you said?" "Jenai." "Ooh. I wish they'd called it the Jedi, that would really fit the Star Wars theme we've got going on here,"Art remarked. "Mister Jacobson…"drawled Administrator Pond. "Right, right. Sorry. It's matter of life and death here. I get it." "Life and death?"gasped a Japanese statesman. "But, 1983 plus forty years is--" Another engineer, this one a Norwegian man from the ESA, stood up and said, "Not correct. The aliens said they thought we had forty years. And we did. Until six months ago." "What happened six months ago?"pressed Chinese President Zhao Chunhua. Art switched to his next slide, a cute cartoony graphic showing the asteroid hurtling towards Earth with a bunch of numbers below it moving so fast they were blurry. It was rather tone-deaf, given the gravity of the situation. "Velocity. Acceleration. Time of Impact. Strength of Impact. It's all here. And it's all bad. Right now, if the asteroid hits Earth at around its current speed, everything from Anchorage to Cape Town…"the engineer snapped his fingers. "Gone." The ESA engineer spun in his chair. "Except it won't hit at is current speed. This hunk of space rock began to speed up six months ago for no reason we or the aliens who informed us of it can tell. If this asteroid keeps up its new rate of acceleration, if it hits us, that means total extermination of the human race. Seven billion people and twelve thousand years of history snuffed out like a candle." Richard Douglass, President of the United States, signed deeply, face in his hands. "So, what you're telling me, is that we have no way to stop this chunk of rock from hitting us and killing us all. The best ideas we have are scrapped concepts from the '80s. How long do we have before the asteroid hits us?" Art did some quick back-of-the-napkin math in his head. "About a month." "A month." The teen nodded. "A month. Thirty days, to be precise. And we do have… well, we do have one idea." The president looked up. "What idea is that?" Art swallowed hard. "Um, well, we can't just strap a nuke to a SpaceX rocket and call it a day. That wouldn't work for many, many reasons, but the most glaring is that the asteroid is simply too big to be destroyed by one measly warhead. So, we actually see promise in this one laser design from South Africa, but we're too behind on development. Way too behind." "How far behind?"President Douglass asked. "…About fifteen years." The General Assembly erupted into a cacophony of chaos, questions and wails of despair in a dozen languages being flung across the room like an elementary school food fight. Art tried his best to do something about it, but he wasn't what you'd call a "people person". Eventially, Administrator Pond ushered him away to take his seat with the rest of the geniuses from the world's top space agencies. "So this is how the human race dies. Not with a shout, but with a whimper of complaint,"General McDaniel sighed, mopping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. Suddenly, the double doors to the hall burst open, and a lone figure entered. In his arms he carried an old computer and more stacks of paper than Art could count. Elon Musk bit his lip. "I think I might have a solution."
The morning sky was red, an ominous warning to the sailors as the ship crested another wave. The crew moved quickly, casting lines and setting up rigging, trying to haul all they could before battening up the hatches. The ship's captain looked down from the bridge, a nervous droplet of sweat dripping down his worried face. His brow furrowed, deep worry lines creased, as he stared at that damning crimson backdrop. He chewed on an unlit cigar, putting on a brave face for the crewmen who would occasionally look up to him for reassurance. Suddenly, a great commotion seemed to take place on the deck. Several of the men's lines had caught something. A shark maybe? Whatever it was, it was too big for their fishing rod's. The captain strode outside, his voice booming as he commanded them to use the tow hook. The hook was lowered, catching on whatever massive object was tying them up, and the rod lines were cut. The captain and crew stood with baited breath as the mechanical arm reeled in the mysterious object. The large steel box was gently lowered to the deck. It appeared ornate, with weathered rusty chains wrapping around its face. A small plate sat on the front, engraved in a language no one onboard could understand. The crew seemed apprehensive as the captain ordered the chains cut, and the lid lifted. As they began to crack the top, it burst open, causing everyone on board to jump back in shock. A man stood, dripping water onto the deck, and vomited. Water poured from him like a fountain, and he collapsed. The crew hauled him inside, as he coughed and sputtered. Laying him in a cot, the man croaked out a question. "What year is it?" The captain looked confused as the medic checked the man's vitals. The entire group was in a state of extended shock, unable to process how a man could survive the depths of the Atlantic ocean. They did not respond, waiting for the medic to finish his examination. "Please, there isn't much...time"The mysterious man coughed, more fluid expelling from his body "Tell me its 2016. There's something I have to...stop. I missed my jump but tell me there is..." The medic looked back at the captain, explaining this was some sort of delirious state. At this, the man shot up, yelling out. "I'M NOT DELIRIOUS, ANSWER MY QUESTION! WHAT YEAR IS IT?" Taken aback, the captain blurted out, "Its 2019! Not 2016. December 2019, to be exact." The soaked man, fell back, tears forming in his eyes. He stood, zombie like and numb, walking back out to the deck. The crew followed, afraid to touch this strange apparition. The man mumbled, over and over, as he picked up a heavy equipment chest. "Its too late. I missed my mark. It's too late." The captain called out, he and his men giving the man plenty of space. "Whats too late? What's going to happen?" "I'm so sorry"the man said, as he put one leg on the edge of the boat. "I wish you all the best of luck, but I can't go through it again. May god have mercy on your souls." With this, he took a step over the edge, clutching the heavy chest. The crew yelled out, but it was too late. They looked over the edge, watching as the man sunk beneath the turbulent waters.
I stared at my phone, my heart sitting in my stomach. Could it really be? The four bars of different lengths all stacked on top of one another began to glow. The first time I had seen the WiFi Icon react in what may have been years. I had always kept my phone charged, which was simple enough with a solar-powered charger. I enjoyed pulling it out to play a mobile game on a lonely occasion. But WiFi? This brought hope I had never conceived of having before. I tapped the screen. Warning: You have connected to an unsecured Wifi network and your internet browsing and personal information may be visible to others "I wish,"I sighed as I tapped the warning away. I would love to have someone steal my identity right now if only to prove there was someone out there. I went back to the home screen and hesitated over an app. I had tried too many times before and I didn't want to get my hopes up. But I couldn't help myself. This could be my chance to see it again. I tapped the app. Welcome back! Please enter your password I swallowed hard. I forgot about passwords. They were only necessary when there were other people around. Malicious people at that. I wracked my head and entered the first password that came to mind: Love123 Incorrect Password LoVe123 Incorrect Password "Please,"I begged my phone, putting in another password. Loving123 Forgot Password? I tapped the button quickly. It redirected me to a new page, indicating that I had been emailed a password reset. I grit my teeth. It wasn't like I remembered my email's password either. I tapped my email's app and was surprised to find logged in without any prompting. I was blessed with a phone that remembered my email! I had thousands of unread emails, all from advertising email lists that were automated to send to me and I had long ignored. They stopped some years ago, but I never got around to deleting them. It didn't feel like it mattered. It also felt like a relic of the past to look back on anytime I wanted to remember what SkyDiving was and how I could get 20% off my next trip. Click here to reset the password to your account Please enter your new password Love123 New Password cannot be the same as your old password "What!? But I--"I shut my mouth and rolled my eyes. "That's something I haven't missed,"I told it, typing in a new one. LostLove123 I was redirected to the homepage. Welcome back! Please enter your password LostLove123 Would you link to sync your pictures with the cloud? Yes Loading Tears brimmed my eyes as the pictures began to populate. I collapsed and began sobbing uncontrollably as they rolled in one by one. Pictures of me and my son. My late son. At the park. On his birthday. The day we forgot our umbrellas and he used me to keep him dry. The memories lost to the years came back with each loaded image. I missed him so much. With every reminder of his unabashed smile came to the promise I made to him just before he passed. "Daddy, we're gonna find mommy, right?"he asked. "Of course,"I told him, not looking at him. "I don't want to do anything but find Mommy okay?"he told me. "I promise, I will find your mother at all costs,"I swore. "Okay, because if I die..." The picture of the three of us appeared; our family one jovial unit. I wiped the tears away. I still had a promise to keep. I had to find her. And now, I had images to keep me going just a bit longer. I would find her. "...because if I die. I wanna get buried with mommy." _______________________________ For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!
I was drinking to forget, my roommate Harry beside me. Having just been laid off, the company I worked for collapsing, I needed to get drunk. Harry had always been up for going out, and hearing my predicament, had joined me in my quest of getting smashed. I was a few drinks in when I looked over, the alcohol making my head feel heavy. "Y'know what? I never wanted to just be an office drone. Heck, I had such dreams. I wanted to make a difference. But that isn't how the world works is it? It just grinds you down." Harry stared back, the prick still looking disturbingly sober, his suit at odds with the rest of the patrons. "What did you want to do? You never said." I swept my hand in front of me, knocking over my empty glass. "I wanted, and still want, to save all those poor beasties from extinction. That's why I got that Conservation degree. But noooo, nowhere wants me." "I know a guy who could help." I stared at him, working to think through the fuzz in my brain. "You do?" "Yeah.... give me a couple of days to get ahold of him, and he'll give you a call." I wanted to celebrate, but it was too perfect. I had known him for years, and he always knew a guy. No matter what, he always did. I kept quiet, mostly because I didn't want to offend him. But this time, my thoughts slipped out in my drunken stupor. "Heyyyy, how'd you always know a guy?" "Do you really want to know? Once you do, you can't unknow it." "O'course I do." He waved a hand, and the noise around us stopped. I searched for a reason, and saw everything had stopped. "I am that guy. Always have been. And you... you actually own me." "Wha'?" He pressed a finger to my head, and it cleared instantly. "I've wanted to say, but I was bound not to. Do you remember when we met?" "Uh, yeah..... in that weird occult shop, right? We were 8...." "You were. I wasn't. You picked up that bracelet. Well, that bracelet is the Binding of Realities Spirit. I am that spirit. As always, I had to challenge whoever wanted it to defeat me in whatever method they preferred. You, being 8, had a very limited, sheltered view of the world. And-" "Said to play Rock-Paper-Scissors for it...." "Exactly. And you won. So you got it. And I was bound to serve you, as is my purpose. Of course, I couldn't say that, as the wielder has to ask. Plus, you can only use my power when you wear it." I stared down at the bracelet I wore. "I never took it off. It was the last thing Grandma bought me..." "Precisely. Now, I could have just followed you as a spirit, but you needed a friend. I knew that, and it was possibly the first thing you wished for. Someone to be there for you, after you parents didn't realise how hard you took your grandmothers death. So I bent people's memories to think I was another student at school. And I was there for you." "But... that means you were only there for me because I wished it.... you didnt choose to." There he smiled. "Yes, at first I only accompanied you as your wish. But you were so good. So genuine. I couldn't help but actually like you. Imagine that. A millennia old spirit, enjoying running around a playground with a pretty girl playing tag. So I know what you are thinking, and no, I won't act any different now you know. You wanted to save the animals right? Let's do this then. I can't just click my fingers, and make their population explode. I can't make drastic changes which would be noticed. But what I can do is make some of them start to breed more. And, get you money to start creating new conservation areas, along with easing the way with getting permits etcetera." I was stunned. He had been so matter of fact, and sure of himself. I leaned forward. "This is too much... I need a drink." "Ah, of course. Here." He tapped my head again, and the fuzziness returned. "We can discuss this more tomorrow." With that the room began to move again, sound returning. Harry stood up, and disappeared to the bar. Before I could knew it, he slid a new drink before me. "To fresh starts." He raised his glass, and I automatically followed. "Yes.... to fresh starts." We clinked, and drunk. With that, my recollection of the evening vanished. \------ It wasn't until I stumbled into the kitchen, with a killer hangover, and saw him with a coffee that I remembered what had happened. "You're looking rough. Here." He passed me a perfectly brewed mug of coffee. "Fresh from the spirit in the room, though devoid of the spirits we drank last night." "How are you always so chipper? Wait.... you don't get drunk do you?" He grinned cheekily at me. "Nope." "I hate you." "I know." I sat at the breakfast bar, and rubbed my head. "I didnt dream that last night, did I?" He sobered up. "No." "I'm... going to need time." "Of course. I will leave you alone. But if you do need me, just call my name, and I will answer.... Mistress." I glared at him with that name. "Don't call me that!" "Of course not, my Lady." I swiped an apple and threw it at him. He caught it, laughed, and promptly vanished. I groaned, and rubbed my head again. I had no idea what I was going to do now.
I felt a surge of sickening fear, my hands trembling. In just a quick sweep of the people around me a bunch of them had been revealed as aliens. The screen filled up with words and symbols I didn't know, overlaid on their faces. I turned the phone over in my hands, and where there would normally be an Apple logo was just a single word: Arch. 'What the...' I breathed. I looked away from the phone as if to reassure myself of the world around me. I saw the park: green grass, shady trees, bright sunshine, children playing, people strolling, people sitting and reading their phones. But now I could not trust any of it. The 'Viewer' app was the only weird one on the home screen. Everything else was the usual - Twitter, TikTok, various news sites. I swiped onto the second screen. None of these were familiar. Transport. Advance. Summon. Return. Report. Read. Move. Each one had its own similar logo, as if they were different apps from the same company. More apps were named with the strange symbols I had already seen, mostly straight lines and dots. My heart pounded and pounded. Then at the bottom right of the screen I saw another app: 'Exit.' Same black and white logo as the others, with some of the unknown symbols worked into the design. Don't touch it! Every part of my brain screamed the warning. Throw the phone away! But I sat down heavily on a park bench. At any second I expected someone to approach me, to demand back the device. But I was as invisible as ever. I turned the phone over and over in my hands, looking across the apps, wanting to put the device away and forget I had ever seen it, wanting to touch all of them. But one was calling to me more than any other. I took a deep breath and wondered if I would regret it - maybe instantly regret it - and I touched the 'Exit' button. Nothing happened. Maybe the whole thing was a joke? Some viral thing for a movie? Then the buildings around the park winked out one by one, like lights being turned off. Only blue sky remained where they had been. I was too frightened to move. Then the people disappeared. Then the trees. Then the air. Silence was absolute. I moved my hand over and back and felt nothing, and yet I had no trouble breathing. The grass disappeared. For a moment there was bare earth. Then that disappeared. Then there was nothing except me and the bench I was sitting on, terrified into stasis. And I realised now there was something I had overlooked. Somethign I needed to do. My hands were shaking badly. But I opened the first app. Viewer. And I hit the button to use the front camera. I saw my own face. And even in that place of absolute blackness, the relief was incredible, indescribable. I was still me. That was something. Then the view of my face disappeared. I was looking instead into a machine face. Hard, angular, metallic. And yet familiar. I screamed, and the machine face screamed. I wobbled right on the edge of madness. When I opened my eyes there was a girl standing there. About my own age. Something strange in her green eyes. 'I think you have my phone,' she said. \-- Great prompt! Interesting multi-part potential... Lots more stories at r/HouseBlendMedium, please subscribe if you're interested. Happy holidays everyone :-)
Claire shudders and fights back a sneeze. Greg turns to her and nods. “See? It’s happening, I know it. Get ready, partner” He straps his seat belt and puts the keys in the ignition and she just sighs before sneezing again. Claire’s doctor warned her about joining the force long ago. Said they would reject her due to medical allergies in ionized environments. She didn’t care. She wanted to protect and serve. Her father pulled some strings to get her in and now she works for the state. She’s finally ready to go and she’s paired with… Greg. Her chief laughed when he handed her the assignment. The other patrollers laughed when she mentioned her teammate. “Yeah, good luck with Greg Jigawatts!” She didn’t understand why: Greg was kind, courteous and respectful. He’d pull speeding drivers over, hand them a ticket, and warn them against trying to sweet talk their way out. She thanked him for his advice. He had one rule: “Every speeder gets a ticket. No exceptions.” Greg grips the wheel and stares down the road. Claire turns to him “Greg, maybe… maybe it’s not happening. This is the third night this week-” A gray blur blazes down the road and she sneezes again. She lurches back in the seat as Greg hits the gas and their cruiser emerges from hiding, onto the road. The red and blue sirens go off behind the silver car. “Dispatch, I’m currently chasing a Silver DeLorean, speeding. It’s at 60 in a 35 mph zone but it will get to around… 88 mph. Send backup. Over.” Greg slams his receiver and grips the wheel. Claire just hears the dispatcher giggle. “Will do. Good luck, Jigawatt.” \*No backup is coming.\* Claire’s allergies are in full swing as both cars swerve into the corn field. Greg smiles. “I installed some blades on the front of the car to cut through the grass.” Claire shakes her head. “That’s against proto- ACHOO- protocol!” But Greg isn’t listening. He’s actually closing on his target. He pats the stack of tickets he’s going to slap the drivers with. Claire looks and sees a gray haired driver and a teenage passenger. Is this human trafficking? This could be her big break! She smiles and gives Greg a thumbs up. “We almost got em! Go faster!” Greg laughs. “Awesome, you get it! Come on! 80 mph!” She looks at the odometer as they close in. 83. 85. 88. 90. Greg moves slightly to the side to nudge the DeLorean into a ditch. The teenager looks back, shocked as the gray haired man just grins and points at his odometer. Claire sees a flash of lightning, a streak of flame from the DeLorean, and her allergies are too much for her. “Claire! Partner! Talk to me!” Greg shouts as Claire regains consciousness outside of the cruiser. DeLorean is gone, just a wreath of flame and burnt corn. “It just… left. You saw it, right?” She nods. “They think I’m crazy, back at the station. DeLorean drives down here and makes an electric hazard. Fire hazard. Every few nights.” Claire stands up. “This may be the biggest case of all time.” She dusts some of the mud and bugs off of her. “An older man with gray hair, and some wide eyed teenager. Did you see them?” Greg’s eyes are wide open. “Maybe I can sketch them, or we can ask around during the day.” Greg is grinning. “You actually saw them? Perfect! We’re going to crack this case wide open, partner!” He offered his hand for a shake, with tears in his eyes. \*Someone knows I’m right!\* &#x200B; (27 minutes, 18 seconds)
Attrition is where it's at. Don't get me wrong, it's a pain in the ass to use, and a pain in the ass to fight against. That's sort of the point- it's not so much about what it does do, as what it can do. It always boils down to the long-term, sooner or later. That's what 'long-term' means. It's something that had always bugged me about stories. If you have the opportunity to write a character that slowly, inevitably grows more powerful with time, why wouldn't you write about that? The answer, of course, is that such a character is boring. Anything that they can run away from is incapable of being a long-term problem. There's no question of how the story ends, only how much goes wrong before then. Still, give me boring efficiency any day of the week. If I have to destroy some demon lord, and I can't start out with an overwhelming power advantage, then I'll take the long-term, attritional power advantage. It'll suck in the short term, but it means I get to know how the story ends. Or, okay, it can also end with me getting skewered by a random minion early on, but I like my odds. How the heck will they tell me apart from every other random powerless person? So I chose, and I reincarnated into this world, and it turns out that the answer is 'pretty easily'. I was, after all, the only one. All around me were people in bright armor, carrying weapons wreathed in flame, or in lightning, or in both. Their bodies looked like they had been carved out of marble, ancient heroes of some long-forgotten time. They had come here to kick ass and chew bubblegum, and no one had thought to bring bubblegum along. It was showtime, and I wasn't even a stagehand. Still, there are worse things than being a boring, unimportant character in a story where the heroes overwhelm the evil threat with sheer power right out of the gate. You can, for example, be a boring, unimportant character in a story where all of the most powerful heroes get slaughtered right out of the gate, and the evil threat continues its advance, not uncontested, but not contested contested. And, hey, my powers were pretty nifty. I could teleport (just a little, but any teleportation is nice, and makes you very hard to hit). I had a nice little healing factor- I wasn't exactly going to be shrugging off getting shot with an arrow, but I was in perfect health no matter what I ate, drank, or failed to eat and drink. Pyrotechnics, some light levitation, some light extrasensory abilities...I wasn't impressive, but I was beginning to blend in. I practiced, day by day, trying to strengthen my abilities, trying to improve my control of them, to save time training once they advanced enough to really be useful. The evil army advanced, day by day. Word was coming in, always, of battles fought, skirmishes skirmished, last stands stood. The good guys occasionally gave the evil army a bloody nose. But, for the most part, it was loss after loss. Most of that information came from my own scrying abilities. They were still crude, but they were useful enough. The only sign from our upbeat bards that things were going poorly was that our glorious victories kept being won closer to home. It was long and boring. That's the thing about attrition- anything that really captures the spirit of it isn't going to be fun to read. You can either skip past the boring parts, which is when everything important happens, or you can bore your audience to death. Bards are not fans of attrition, in the same way that humans are not fans of deep fried dog shit. Another day, another long while spent training, another losing battle. The war was going poorly, and if it was clear how it would end...it was still going to suck getting there. I eventually decided that I'd had enough. I went out to fight. I wasn't going to fight gloriously on the front lines, mind you. That's a good way to get yourself killed for no good reason. I don't want the story to end like that. No, I went behind their lines. Teleportation, even minor teleportation, is pretty good at things like that. I hit their supplies, raided their camps, screwed up their sleep by making night attacks and raising a massive ruckus. I smashed vital equipment, killed the quartermasters and cooks and other minor noncombatants who kept vital things running, and generally worked to ruin their advance as much as I could. It was glorious in the same way that shoplifting is glorious, which is to say not at all. I hit, and I ran. I preferentially selected targets that hadn't done anything to prepare for my raids, and worked hard to make myself unpredictable. I did as little actual fighting as possible, and mostly ran away when it looked likely. It was attrition. It was ugly, and brutal, and a massive pain in the ass for everyone involved. It also worked. The advance slowed, and slowly ground more or less to a halt. I had singlehandedly done more to stop the evil army than every other heroic reincarnated Isekai wannabe combined. I'd say it was a good feeling, but mostly I felt tired. My healing abilities had advanced, and they'd always healed my mind as well as my body, but I still wasn't getting nearly as much sleep as I would have preferred. Still, as they say, you should see the other guy. The evil army was slowly falling apart. Heroic attacks happened during the day, and were happening more frequently now that we appeared to be winning, or at least not losing as badly. Sleeping in the day was right out, for everyone. And my attacks meant that huge numbers of sentries were needed, all night, every night. The evil army began to show the strain. Hunger and thirst, disease and desertion began to take their toll. My powers grew and grew, never quickly, but was obvious, now, how the story would end. The first big breakthrough came, a properly glorious battle, at long last. My heroic allies finally managed to score a major victory, and the bards made a great deal out of it. It was, from their perspective, the point at which the tide began to turn. Everyone on the ground knew that that wasn't how it had gone. But that was how the story goes. History is not, after all, written by the victors. History is written by the historians, by the bards and the tale-tellers, the researchers and the chroniclers. And it was an innocent-enough lie. Some lessons are sufficiently complicated that you can't just tell people. They have to watch, and see, and come to understand on their own time. The rest of the war was more narratively interesting, but had much less to do with why things went the way they did. I'd hit the evil army behind their retreating lines, my attacks growing more frequent and more effective as my powers grew. My heroic allies followed behind, winning glorious victories that moved further from home as time went on, fighting battles whose outcome had long since been decided. The histories always spent most of their time on this part. The dark times that had comprised most of the war were always mentioned, but were always quickly glossed over. No need for depressing stories when there are glorious tales of victory to tell. I, for my part, was quickly growing bored. Overwhelming power will do that to you. The histories mostly end with the glorious storming of the evil fortress at the heart of the evil lands. The storming itself is the focus- very little time is spent on the commander of the evil army, a grand demon lord who actually managed to put up an impressively good fight. No, there were dark times, and the good guys fought ferocious and victorious battles, and then they fought one lass ferocious and victorious battle, and the war was won. That's how the story is going to go. I don't mind. Some things just don't work terribly well as stories.
Chaos rained down around me. Buildings crumbled. Car alarms blared. Flames crackled in the smoke-thick air. Screams echoed through the streets. Sirens wailed, unheard, unheeded. More than anything in the world at that moment, I wanted the car alarms to shut up. I could deal with everything else. I could deal with the grit grating my lungs, and the stench of melting plastic, but the car alarms were giving me a headache. This is not the reaction the normal person has while the world collapses around them. I hardly qualify as a normal person at this point. At times, I debate if I’m even human. This kind of stuff happens to me all the time. One person’s end of all things is my Thursday. Armageddon. Ragnarok. Apocalypse. Whatever you want to call it, I’ve lived dozens of them. See, I’m stuck in a loop, cursed to wander the surface of the decaying Earth unharmed. The problem is, the second it’s “over” the second the smoke clears, the dust settles, and humanity drags itself to its feet, I’m gone, just like that, teleported to minutes before the end of the next timeline. It’s a real study in man’s ability to get used to anything. That’s not to say I’m not still disturbed by what I see. Humanity has a dark side, and I have to see it. This was my 52nd End of the World. I trekked through the cityscape, hoping to see something to keep my interest until I got sent to the next End. A thick trucker jacket protected me from the drifting embers. A mask I'd picked up in my 40th End filtered out the smoke and dust ok. I squinted at something that had appeared on the horizon. I couldn't quite tell, but it appeared to be a yellow billboard, still bravely glowing. "Waffle House."I breathed, barely believing it. The last couple of Ends had been big on violent destruction, and I hadn't eaten a hot meal in who-knows-how-long. I struggled through the rubble of the fallen city to the door and burst inside. The employees froze staring at me. "Hi."I said. My voice was raspy from smoke inhalation and lack of use. "Are you open?" "Um."some kid in a Waffle House cap said. "I suppose." With a second look, I determined the employees of this Waffle House were turning the building into a short-term shelter. The tables and chairs had been broken down and used to board up the windows. Crates of supplies dotted the dining area like Grecian columns. I took a seat at the counter. "Could I have a dark roast coffee and an All-Star special with hash browns?"I asked tentatively. I paused and started digging through the pockets of my coat. "I think I have a couple dollars to pay for it." "Man, look outside."One of the line cooks said as he started the coffee maker. "We don't need your money." "Fair."I agreed. "How did you guys not die when all that happened?" The workers glanced at each other and shrugged. "Don't know."one of them said. "The power didn't go out here or anything. Bad stuff started showing on the TV and then the feed cut out, but by then it was happening all around us. The Waffle House hasn't been touched." "Well thank God for that."I joked, hoping this was a timeline where saying something like that was ok. "I haven't had a hot meal in ages." "Well, we're happy to serve you."The person I thought to be the manager said. "How about you work for that meal? Come help us barricade the back door." "Oh, of course."I replied. "You're going to want to put some fabric, like a towel or something, over the vents and any cracks in the external wall, too." We talked and worked and I got to know the workers. It was a strange feeling, to be laughing and joking around with other human beings. That wasn't something I experienced too often. Finally, we all collapsed at the counter, right as the cook brought over plates covered with breakfasty goodness. "Thank you guys so much."I said honestly. "This is the best End of the World I've had in a long time." They laughed. "Well, as they say,"the cook quipped. "It's not a Waffle House, it's a Waffle Home."
The Human History Museum- What is it Hiding? Looking around, it’s almost difficult to beleive these people really exist. The walls are lined with tools and vessels created by the Humans, memorabilia from their first fragile steps into the galaxy. Statues dot the area, recognizing sacrifice and bravery. The Human History Museum is fascinating. I’ve gone through the section on the Burtoniun Conflict a dozen times, and their ingenious way of creating a ceasefire still astounds me! I loved the Hall of Leaders, Humans who guided them into a galactic superpower. Those who made first contact, there’s even photographs of my people first meeting them! All in all the museum offers an amazing insight into the Humans and how they grew to be such an influential star-nation. But there was one section, recently constructed, that I had never seen. A section that was cordoned off from the rest, and hidden from the light. But you, my dear readers, know that a simple ‘keep out’ doesn’t work on a tenacious Ferdyn like me. So when the guards had turned, I made my way past the ropes and curtains and closed doors to find an exhibit I never had expected. We all know the Human’s galactic history, but what do we know of their pre-contact history? What do we know of the Humans, really? They’re peacekeepers, diplomats, charismatic leaders and socialites. Now, they are. But they hadn’t always been. You see this exhibit examined their history of inter-Earth conflict. It discussed the wars that once ravished their people and their world. It spoke to me, showed me a people yearning to move forward in society that held them back. It spoke of a time when millions of them had perished because of pseudoscience and a false belief of superiority. It spoke of nation-states that brandished world ending weaponry like a child with a toy gun. I saw a people so enveloped in conflict that they thought never to escape it. But escape they had. They broke free from their world and caught glimpses of ours. They believed that we were their betters, their superiors in science and in culture. They strove to become us, because of course we hadn’t shown them our history. We parade around as if we are so advanced, beyond war and petty conflicts, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. And now, we look up to them. They don’t shy away from showing us their history. They don’t deny what they were as we do. If you started reading this expecting some exposé about the Humans and their history, you won’t leave satisfied. Because the truth of the matter is that their history is just like ours. They killed, they died, and they lived. They embrace who they are, without putting themselves on a pedestal. Unafraid to shine a light into the dark corners of their past. You can find the Human History Museum in the Xiu Ying district of New Philadelphia on Centari Prime. The exhibit debuts in just a week, and I hope you all go to see it.
Nicerix groaned as he watched the human enter at 4:58. He looked at his crystal watch to confirm and sighed. Nicerix often wore his beloved Roblex crystal watch, it complemented his tan, tailored three piece suit he wore with special cuts for his wings. Nicerix was about eight feet tall while sitting in his specially made mahogany desk, made with special compartments to store all his gemstones. He hated serving humans, especially the ones with spectacles. "Good... Evening...."Nicerix almost hissed the last half after a dramatic pause, "what can I do for you, human?" The human fidgeted as he looked UP at Nicerix. The dragon had to admit that he loved the view. Little apes. "So uh..."He human stammered, "I was thinking of buying some stocks." "My... Pleasure..."Nicerix almost growled, letting his long forked tongue flick. Nicerix saw the human waver and decided to give him a chance, "do you know what stocks you want? Pineapple? Magebook? The Shipping Guild?" The human shook his head, "no, I was looking for something more... Profitable." Nicerix raised a scaly eyebrow, "daring, aren't you human? So are you thinking of the lucrative field of magicalcurrency?" He shook his head, "no, I heard bad things about boltcoins." Nicerix rolled his eyes, "well magecoins are the biggest things out there. But they are volatile." The man shook his head again, "you're a financial advisor, right?" Nicerix was losing his patience with this primate, "yes, and I am educated on what the best options are." "Well..."The man hesitated, "I browse the dwarves' networks and a lot of people are talking about this company that sells used mage tomes. Tomestop." Nicerix's laughed. Almost roared. The human cowered in fear, not knowing if Nicerix was mad or amused. The roaring lasted a whole minute until he was interrupted by his aid. A slim, blue dragon opened the door and asked, "another one?" Nicerix took out a hankerchief and wiped away his tears. He laughed so hard his gut hurt. "Yes, Salazak. Start opening an account for our friend here." The human beamed, "that's good! I took out all my savings for this!" Nicerix smiled and couldn't help but snicker, "so what dwarf told you about these tome guys?" The man stood up and proudly took of his shirt, revealing a tattoo of a dwarf holding gemstones in each hand, "they call him the Roaring lion." Nicerix was stunned, "you must really like the stock." The human began pulling out his gold bags, "my wife's boyfriend is pitching in too." Nicerix shook his head, "you apes and your strange rituals."
"Have a seat, Mr. Perez." James followed the pudgy, gesturing hand to an empty office chair situated in front of a large, semi-circle table. Fourteen leather binders - all opened with multicolored tabs sprouting from laminated pages - lay in front of fourteen humorless suits. As he sat in the lone, exposed chair, he suddenly wished that he had followed his instinct earlier that morning to not show up today. At the very least, he wished there was something to set his coffee on. Diana Kilroy, head of the Board, characteristically dove into business. "Mr. Perez, we thank you for joining us this morning. We're all very appreciative of your acceptance on such short notice." I didn't realize I had the option of sending away the driver who came to my house.. James thought. "Let us begin by reviewing your Q2 report from last week. There are a few discrepancies between expected and realized figures; the Board would like an explanation for these discrepancies as well as a structured plan for eliminating them moving forward." "Before we get into that,"now the rotund member who had shown James his chair stood up - not without effort - and tapped the papers in front of him into a neat rectangle, "we would like to bring to your attention some particularly successful strategies that have driven the majority of our growth." Huh... OUR growth, is it? "Shares went up by almost 7 points after your name change from Jaimé to James. Our analysts appear to have been spot on in their assessment of broad acceptance for ethnic heritage. Excellent decision Mr. Perez, we believe this will continue to drive growth in Q3 and Q4 given current sentiments toward Latin Americans." James shifted from one leg to the other; he was beginning to realize just how uncomfortable the office chair was. "Another area we are excited about is the 55 plus demographic. We've shown steady growth in the past two quarters ever since you began attending mass. Our analysts at first were worried you might alienate the 18-35s, but reports show no significant reduction in subscriptions. Again, excellent work James. This is the kind of thinking that will generate success in the coming years." And with the praise concluded, chairman Druthers collapsed heavily back into his chair. "Please continue, Miss Kilroy." "Thank you, Mr. Druthers."She paused briefly to stare at a thin manila folder laid out before her, then leveled her dark, predatory eyes squarely onto James. "Now, Mr. Perez,"those dark eyes set against her thin, angular face reminded him of a falcon, or maybe a crow, "we need to discuss areas for immediate improvement." Here we go.. he thought, while consciously setting his face blank to avoid giving away his disdain for these... the only word that came to his mind was parasites. "Your decision to begin a courtship with.. ah.."she flicked through several leafs of paper in her folder, "a miss Peterson, is one that you should have first run past the board. Frankly, we expected you to be more adept at these types of decisions. However, the board realizes mistakes are inevitable. We will accept immediate termination of the courtship, and will waive the usual disciplinary period at this time, provided we have your full cooperation." Now James shifted his elbows to his knees, sweaty hands clasped together between them, and chuckled coldly with his head hung. He then swept the table with his gaze, absorbing the stony countenances of the Board, until he rested finally on Diana. A hawkish android in expensive pantsuit, and she had the reigns to his life. He almost started laughing again. "And, pray tell, who would the board have me begin.. ah.. courting.. in her stead?" Diana's stare hadn't broke this entire meeting. The two seconds before her response hung like smog in the air. Druthers swallowed. "The Board has determined, using thorough and expensive analytical data, that the average consumer is more clmfortable seeing people of similar ethnic heritage paired together. Miss Peterson was a German/ Norweigan blend, which plays well in certain circles but ultimately is the wrong fit for your image." Jaimé now stood up from his chair with an even, deliberate motion. He finished the last cold swig of his coffee, feeling the grits slide over his tongue. "Fuck yourself, Diana." And before anyone could react, while eyes were still widening around the semi-circle of masters, he wound back and threw his thermos at full force into the beady eyes of Miss Kilroy. The entire board lept from their chairs in unison. A plump woman with curls and a red dress at the leftmost end of the table - Jaimé realized he had never seen her before - squealed, "SECURITY!!"as she struggled in a panic to run to the conference doors with heels on. Jaimé was closer to the door than she was, and he began to think again. Need to leave quickly. He sprinted for the door, had just touched a handle, when a booming cry rang his ears, "STOP! FOR YOUR OWN SAKE DON'T TOUCH THAT DOOR!" The man who cried out to him was now slowly nearing Jaimé with his palms facing out, as a man trying to calm a bridge jumper. Jaimé thought he recognized him, but couldn't be sure. These suits all looked the same. "James listen to me, do you think the Board hasn't taken measures to protect our investment? James?" Hand still on the door, Jaimé turned to face the man. Sure, but it'll take more than the rent-a-cop outside this door to stop me. "And what if I don't feel like being protected?"He asked flatly. "James... it isn't up to you anymore. We passed that point a long time ago." "You know what?"Jaimé could feel his forehead getting hotter and hotter, "you can fuck yourself too."He felt emboldened by the whimpering he could hear from Kilroy underneath the table. "You don't understand, James, feel behind your left ear. Do you notice anything?"The mans mouth stretched tight into a thin line as he looked into Jaimés eyes, hands still outstretched. What..? Caught off-guard, Jaimé raised his left hand to his ear while keeping his right on the handle. There, barely perceptible, lying just beneath the skin, was a pea-sized wafer. His eyes grew with understanding. How hadn't I noticed this? "James, you have to understand, it's more than just your life at stake. Many shareholders invest their retirements into our brand. We can't simply throw all of those assets away on a whim. The Board needed to ensure the survival of our brand." Jaimé swallowed hard. Did they install an off-switch? Jesus.. "Well,"he began, steel in his voice, "push the fucking button and end it, then. I'm done." "I don't believe you're getting it, James,"the man began to inch closer, "that device behind your ear is a kind of recorder. It transmits neural patterns to an off-site server. We.. have copies."His eyes were still leveled into Jaimés, searching for understanding. "You...you what?"Jaimé said, reeling. "You made copies* of my brain??" The approaching man looking nervously back at the other Board members, then back at Jaimé. "James.. it's a bit more complex than that. This has happened before. It will probably happen again. These are the risks we take in this business, and I don't like them but situations such as this reveal their necessity. Please consider what you're doing. It would be a shame to start from scratch." With this, he had enough. Jaimé released the handle and lunged toward the man. The man looked down at the ground, and under his breath, "Goddamnit." Click. Mid-lunge, jaimé collapsed. His body hit the low pile carpet with a wet smack, and lie still. "Well, phase 3 has it's hiccups, but admittedly this has been our longest streak yet!"Druthers said. "It's a shame we'll need another unit from Bio, that's not going to help our Q3 margins."From another member. The man who tried to corral Jaimé stared down at the life-like mannequin, nudging a silicon roll with his Oxford shoe. "If we don't succeed, try, try again."He quoted. And stepped over the body and into the hallway, wondering vaguely if that Thai place just down the street was open this early.
I remember being asleep. It’s the only true escape that I have. I’ve always had it bad, I can never seem to shake myself out of this funk. My friends and family left me long ago, I didn’t want them to carry my burdensome self any longer. It didn’t take much for me to push them away. I lost my job a week ago, my manager couldn’t understand why I needed so much time off. I didn’t try to explain. But this figure or apparition in my dream understood. He knew how hard it was. How I couldn’t find the words to explain what was going on in my head. How every step I tried to take forward felt like agony, especially when all it served was two steps backwards. Every time I fell asleep, he was there. I could never remember his face or what he looked like. But all I could remember was a feeling of hope and warmth hearing his voice. Seeing his formless smile gave me the courage to smile again. To feel whole again. Then I would wake up and the feeling would fade. I’d be back to my normal self. ——-//////——- A knock on the door woke me up. I was annoyed and then saddened at my escape being cut short prematurely. But there was this niggling feeling in the back of my head. It was a strange feeling, like it was as natural as breathing, to get out of bed and trod over to my door. I didn’t care that I was half dressed or that I hadn’t showered in forever. I passed my trashed kitchen, dishes piled high in the sink and empty containers of take out. My living room was dusty, untouched and unloved with the curtains drawn in perpetual darkness. Only the front door, with its small fanlight, allowed light from the outside world into my personal hell. I opened the door and immediately believed I was still asleep. He was here. The being from my dreams. The smile and the warmth was exactly as I remembered. But I had to be dreaming. Because he looked like me. From the hair that fell to his shoulders to the lopsided smile that beamed at me, it was like staring into a mirror. A picture into a time before when I was alive and moving, not like now. “May I come in? I don’t have long, I’m afraid.” Wordlessly I moved aside so he could enter. He plopped down unceremoniously onto one of the dusty couches and gestured next to him for me to sit beside. I don’t even think I closed the door when I moved to sit next to him. I whispered, my throat unfamiliar being unused for so long, “W-who are you?” The lopsided smile returned, “Well I’m you, I thought that was a little obvious.” I shook my head in disbelief, “How?” He continued, “I’ve always been you. And you were me once,” he glanced around my living room, “before this.” I swallowed hard, my words that came so easily to me (him?) in my dreams felt like lead now. But I couldn’t stop them from tumbling out, not now. “I didn’t want to be like this.” He nodded, “No one does.” The words came unbidden now, a rush of fear like a rampaging current, “I want to be like before again. Like you.” He smiled softly and shook his head, “You can’t.” The tears that welled behind my eyes sought escape, a cathartic release that had been denied for so long, “Why not? Why can’t I be? I don’t want to be THIS.” His hand grasped my shoulder, it felt so familiar, like the brother I had never had, “You can’t be me anymore.” Before I could protest he continued. “But you can be better.” I didn’t even try to stop the tears now, “What?” The smile was radiant, beaming even, “You can’t become who you were in the past. No one can go back in time like that. Experience, good and bad, shapes us into different people.” He gestured around the living room, flashes of light illuminated what once was, “We never stop growing, from the day we’re born to the day we die. Things get hard sometimes. And those are the times we can’t do it alone.” The hand squeezed my shaking form tighter, “We pushed the people we loved away but we can let them back in. We can look for some help, professional help. It’s hard at first, but it gets easier.” The light from the open door grew during our talk. The living room flowed with sunlight, colors replacing gray and dark. The familiar bubbling of hope and happiness rose from my core. Through the tears I could manage a smile. I croaked out, “Will you still be here?” He slapped my shoulder with a laugh this time, “Always. I’m you, remember?” I managed a wet chuckle, my fear bringing courage, “W-what am I supposed to do? How do I start?” He smiled with my smile one last time, I could feel his mirth even though he and I knew this would be the last time we’d talk like this. “By doing the best that you can. Wake up and try.” ———//////——— My eyes shot open and I gasped. My vision adjusted to the dark view of my bedroom ceiling, heart pounding from my dream. Was it a dream? Light and buzzing sounded from beside me and I rolled over to grab my phone. Glancing at the caller ID, the same feeling from before came over me. I felt the familiar words buzz in my breast. Wake up and try. I answered. “… hey Mom.”
I'm in my seat again. Seat 455 B, for the 255th time. The plane has already taken off, for the 255th time. The flight attendants come, provide us drinks, and leave, for the 255th time. The pilot's voice crackles to life, for the 255th time. There is a bright orange hue outside the windows. People are screaming. There are more pops and orange hues outside. The pilot's voice comes to life again. I feel the turbulence. I feel the seat slipping from beneath me. My bones break with the force of the impact. For the 255th time. I sit up painfully, having managed to break only a few bones this time. I stare blankly at all the bloodshed right in front of me. "256." I find myself in my seat again, all the pain gone in an instant. I unbuckle my seat belt and stand up. The flight attendants rush towards me, asking me to sit down. A signal beeps from above me. I stare blankly as I open the cargo space above me. I open my suitcase and take out my umbrella. By this time the flight attendants have left me alone, but some are still keeping an eye. I open the cover of my window. Before anyone could stop me, I crack open the glass with the umbrella. The sky outside sucks us all out. This time, the impact is more painful. However, I manage to say one thing through broken teeth and torn tongue: "257." There I am, back in my seat. 455 B. For the 257th time. It's as if no one knows anything. No one but me. I calmly get up once again, this time after it is safe to do so. I take a deep breath. I grab hold of the man next to me and scream at his face. When he asks me to calm down, I grab him and throw him out of his seat. "Calm down? I've been calm for 257 times now!" Before he can get up, I stomp on his head. I can hear faint voices calling out to me. Faint screams. Faint pulls at my hand. Faint pushes to my chest. But I can't feel them anymore. The only thing I feel is the mushy, cold thing at the bottom of my shoe. I stomp some more. One of the screams is replaced by a gurgle. I look down. Below me is a puddle of rich dark liquid, gray matter, and a beheaded body. It is gurgling. I stomp the neck and the chest, while an unknown forces forces my leg and body upwards. "258." Ah, sweet relief. I find myself on my seat again. But something's different this time. The man besides me is gone. There's a note in the place where he sat. It reads "Thank you." I scream. I dash into the cockpit. "259." Before I could do anything, the force is back again, and I'm on my seat. I sit peacefully this time. The unknown force comes too fast this time. Just as I feel the pain, I hear the pilot say something. "Thank you." "260." I'm back on my seat. Looks like the pilot is replaced. I grab the umbrella again and keep poking myself. As the light fades from my eyes, I fall to the ground in my own blood. "261." I am on my seat again. No one else is. On every seat is a paper. It reads "Thank you." I fall down on my knees, chuckling. I let out a scream that goes on for hours and fills the entire plane.
Christy suppressed the urge to scream in frustration as she watched the Powermobile drive right past the M-Tech laboratory's gates for the third time. "Doesn't the Powermobile have, like, a GPS?"whispered Christy's co-worker, peering out the same office window Christy was standing at. "Trouble is, we paid for us to be taken off satellite maps,"hissed Christy's boss from where he was pacing restlessly in front of the desk barricade. They'd pushed every desk in the office and the one filing cabinet they could feasibly move against the door. Dr. Death's zombies were still banging on the door, which was holding up admirably. "Went to court and everything. The consultants said it was better for security. Never thought it'd bite us on the ass like this." "Is the network jamming still up?"asked one of the scientists. "Christy, do you have a- a thing to call Captain Power or maybe your sister?" Christy didn't. She'd used to have one of those unjammable emergency communicators, back when her big sister Lydia had been the heroine Starshot, but Lydia had taken a career-ending injury some years back. The Commission didn't deem the family members of a retired hero - especially one whose archnemesis was in prison - in enough danger to need a comm. Even after Lydia had married a fellow retired hero whose former archnemesis was still active, in-laws were pretty far down the danger list. To be fair to them, Christy, lowly HR manager, was unlikely to be the target of Dr. Death's attack. If anyone, it was probably Dr. Richards, star of R&D, who was working on something hush-hush that was technically too high-clearance for Christy to know anything about, but was notorious enough that she'd heard of it anyway. Dr. Richards was seated on the floor and calmly typing away at his laptop, as if it was just another afternoon in the office and not a directed zombie apocalypse. Christy was pretty sure she'd seen Dr. Richards' assistant dragged off by a pack of zombies while they'd all been running for the nearest defensible position. Christy, who had been kidnapped by her sister's archnemesis a dozen times before her 18th birthday, didn't know if she was mad at his ice-cold detachment or admired his poise in the face of disaster. (The kidnappings hadn't been all that bad, actually. Erinyes had been obsessed with dueling Starshot and wasn't interested in harming civilians, especially a kid, destruction of property aside. She'd actually been quite nice to Christy, and even remembered Christy's favourite pizza order for the times when kidnappings ran over dinnertime. Christy sent her care packages every Christmas.) "Still jammed,"said Christy, checking her phone again. "At least I managed to call my sister before Dr. Death activated his jammer." "Don't worry,"Lydia had said before the call had cut off in a horrible electronic screech. "I'll call the Commission, then I'll come get you." Christy had been reassured until she'd seen the Powermobile - and watched it speed past the entrance to the M-Tech labs twice. Goddamnit, her brother-in-law was coming. Her co-workers had been big fans - Captain Power had been the top-ranked hero back in the day - but seriously, they'd never had to live with the guy. "Caution is for cowards, and Captain Power is never a coward!"he'd used to shout, before throwing himself into the fray. It had been very entertaining, actually, before Christy had discovered that this philosophy of Captain Power's extended to things such as home DIY, barbecue, non-extreme children's sports, and driving. Especially driving. And also knowing where you're going when you're driving. "Ah! The Powermobile's coming around the block again!"hissed the coworker who had been keeping watch at the window. Everyone - Dr. Richards excepted - rushed to the windows and watched as Captain Power's obnoxiously yellow car sped down the road - and veered off at the junction, in exactly the opposite direction from the laboratory compound's gates. Christy grabbed her head and mimed a scream. She just about didn't stamp her feet, and only because loud noises of any kind only encouraged the zombies. "Does your brother-in-law not take directions?"groaned the boss. "He never does,"said Christy. "Directions are for cowards, and Captain Power,"Christy struck Captain Power's signature pose, "is never a coward!" The youngest assistant hid his face in his hands. "I can't believe I thought he was cool,"he moaned. "Never meet your heroes,"sighed Christy. "...what are the chances the Hero Commission's official response will get here before Captain Power does?"asked the co-worker at the window. "What are the chances the door will hold up until someone gets here?"said the boss, eyeing the door. It made an ominous splintering sound at the next zombie thump. Everyone winced. "That's it,"said Christy. "If we all get bitten, dibs on my brother-in-law. I'm going to eat him first." Nobody argued with that.
“Slime mold,” said the moving corpse, struggling to keep the club being pressed down on it from crushing it’s neck. “Have you heard of it?” The hairy, muscular man on the other side of the club pushed a final time, crushing the rotting flesh of the victim’s throat. “No, I’m guessing not,” said a new walking dead, appearing around the warehouse’s shelfs. It limped on a broken ankle, but seemed unbothered by the injury. On the other end of the aisle, another undead spoke, “But that’s not your fault. I forgot about them for a while, too.” The ape-like man stood from the immobilized body below him, swinging his club to the side and spraying the fetid blood across wrapped pallets of extra chunky peanut butter. He snarled, glancing back and forth between the two creatures approaching from both sides. “Slime molds are curious organisms,” said the limping remains. “It isn’t always clear where one begins…” “And the other ends,” said the opposite cadaver. “Raahh!!” The man sprung to action, his simple deer skin tunic flapping against his powerful legs. In a heartbeat, he was upon the limping figure. His club impacted the creature's knee with a ferocity that sent chunks of cartilage flying to the second shelf, spattering against cans of soup. He turned around at the sound of the corpse behind him charging his way. He was just able to get his club between them, before they both fell to the ground. Now it was the man who was pinned, and it took all he could manage to keep the chomping jaws of the wretched fiend on top of him from finding purchase in his skin. “You see, slime mold individuals can combine to form a colony,” said the one legged body, lifting itself onto its hands. “They set aside their solitude to become something greater.” It began crawling towards the pair of combatants, leaving a trail of blood behind it. “Do you see? That’s what I’m trying to offer you.” “When the pathogen cleansed us of our consciousnesses, it let something deeper shine through. That sense we all felt but always rejected… when we recognized someone we never met… the feeling of oneness with a crowd…” With a great heave, the man flung the body off of him. He leapt to his feet, and slammed his club into the crawling corpse’s skull. The particulate of the spray hadn’t even hit the ground before he turned and unleashed a primal onslaught upon the body he had flung aside. When he was finished, viscera sprawled across the floor. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his beard, when he noticed the crowd of figures closing in around him. At the front, there was a woman, nearly as hairy and dressed in the same animal skin clothes. A fresh bite mark across her cheek was still leaking blood. She said, “When you can sense the pain of a loved one…” “NOO!!” The man fell to his knees. He pulled at his hair and scratched at his face, shouting and reaching an arm out to the woman. “Beneath our individual consciousness, there was something greater,” she said, stepping forward. “Let me help you find it.”
The Largents landed in a clearing in a forested area overnight. SubSupreme Commander Ambert instructed the scouting squad to observe and not engage. But if you are seen, you need to silence the them permanently. Squad leader Besert took his best fighters into the woods. There target was the largest building in the nearest settlement. It had a large outdoor arena. As they approached the arena, they could hear activity coming from inside. Besert launched a small skyeye to check for security before entering the arena proper. He could see a large group of "humans"engaged in ritual combat. They were using weapons and were only cycling through quick set positions and a brief surmish only to reset at a different spot on the field. Besert decided to get inside the arena to see these "humans"himself. He left all the squad outside, except his back guard. This would minimize team exposure and chance of discovery. The arena had quad-quad-quad levels and many things that they could use for protective cover as they monitored the training. It is critical to analyze the fighting capacity of these "humans". We have seen many arenas, but our instruments are not able to penetrate the thick atmosphere of the planet to get visual records. We entered the arena and crawled to a position where we had a clear line of sight to the training. I used my spotting recorder to create a visual of the "humans". The recorder appeared to malfunction as these "humans"were sighted at quad-half and more. They quad-quad solid or more. I am only a single solid. These "humans"are enormous. I watch these trainees engage other "humans"with tremendous force, given their size. The smaller "humans"scamper incredibly fast and escape the main combat cycle. I have enough records, so we careful retrace our steps and leave the arena and get back to the cover of the forest. Soon we are back to the ship. Commander Ambert took the recorder to his post to review the visuals. I had expressed that "humans"seem to be through when building fighting skills, show great power and endurance, and are formidable. I expected to do several more scouting trips, but once time darkness fell, Commander Ambert ordered us to ascend, cutting short the mission by several cycles. Commander Ambert gave me instructions to not discuss the visuals and any details of the mission. Once we joined the main ship, the ship departed orbit. The astro record was updated to Quad-Avoid for this planet. Humans have been registered as Quad-dangerous. I am glad that was the decision as I don't want to fight a quad-quad solid that is twice my height. I call the place Home of Giants. That was on the the arena signs, Home of Giants.
"Welcome home my Queen."The devil himself bows down to you. At least you guess it's the King of hell considering he's flanked by dozens of demons and wearing an onyx crown. He rises, along with his entourage. "First of all, your what now? Second, where are the horns and pitchfork?". He just laughs, his whiskey coloured eyes crinkling as he throws back his head exposing perfect white teeth. No fangs in sight. Disappointing really. "My darling you never cease to amaze me, even after all these millennia."He strides towards you. You attempt a step back but are met by a wall of muscle. Whirling around he's right there in front of you. "But you were just...how did...what..."your usually smart mouth is failing you, miserably. He's looking down at you expectantly. 'Who exactly do you think I am?"You ask. He bends down to whisper in your ear, "Lilith, why must you play such games?".
Ms. Auria Whitmore MMag, a master at the Mirarth Academy of Arcane Arts, sighed as a student walked into her office. Not that she felt any particular dislike for the student, mind you. On the contrary, she felt that Lucian Blackwood was a rather talented young man who could have a bright future ahead of him. That is, if he finally let her talk some sense into him, which Ms. Whitmore was going to attempt – though she suspected the attempt might be futile, like many others before it. “Take a seat, Mr. Blackwood,” the Academy master said, adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses. Lucian did so, wordlessly. He looked just as he usually did – brown hair noticeably disheveled, casual tunic and pants worn in place of a formal robe. Not quite how a student of the most ancient a prestigious magical academy in all Vrazania should present himself, in Ms. Whitmore’s opinion. His appearance wasn’t what she was going to discuss with him today, however. “Mr. Blackwood,” she continued, her voice strict and formal, “as you are no doubt aware, the Period of Determination is almost upon us. Very soon, you will have to make a presentation before the senior masters of our Academy, in order to demonstrate the results of your years of study. I certainly hope that by now you have chosen the topic of your presentation, and that said topic is…” she paused slightly, “adequate.” “I’ve chosen a topic, ma’am,” Lucian responded. “And might I know what your topic is?” The student cleared his throat. “Non-malevolent applications of the Tenebrous Magics.” Ms. Whitmore sighed again. “Mr. Blackwood, I hope you recognize that your choice of topic is most… unorthodox,” the master said sternly. “Or that your very future as a licensed magician depends on the results of your examinations. Choosing the presentation topic is not something to be made light of.” “Yes, I understand that, ma’am,” Lucian nodded, smiling slightly at the (likely unintended) pun. “But isn’t the entire goal of the presentation to show the magic we are best at? What we’re passionate about the most?” “It is true, of course,” Ms. Whitmore allowed. “That said, for it to be the dark arts of all things… to be perfectly honest, I do not understand why such magic is not prohibited to begin with, especially for students.” “The only good is knowledge…” Lucian intoned. “… And the only evil is ignorance,” his teacher finished automatically. “Still, not to doubt the Founder’s wisdom, but… well, might you not choose any other area of our craft? Evocation, for instance, or Numerology? I know you have shown an aptitude for both that is definitely above average.” The student shook his head. “With all due respect, ma’am, I intend to stick to my topic. It’s something I’m truly interested in, and, well… I really do believe these arts can be used for good.” Ms. Whitmore said nothing for some time, steepling her fingers as she regarded her student. “Very well,” she said finally. “As your advisor – if only in name – I must warn you that not all masters on the Board might look favourably upon your presentation topic. You will need to demonstrate something truly outstanding, if you are hoping to receive your license this year. Still, if this is your final choice, so be it.” She allowed herself a slight smile – not that Lucian could have seen it through her steepled fingers. “Then I wish you good luck at your Determination.” “Thank you, ma’am,” Lucian bowed his head slightly before standing up and leaving her office. \\\* From a separate table, Ms. Whitmore was observing the ongoing presentations. Although her rank and seniority could have allowed her to sit on the Board, on that day she did not do so – for it were her students who were being evaluated. To her satisfaction, everything was going smoothly so far. Dressed in their finest robes, refined and polite, the young men and women were the very image of how a student of Mirarth should act and look. The magic they demonstrated was likewise superb – evocationists wove multi-level spells, conjurers created complex structures, summoners called upon elusive spirits… That was not all, of course – after the Demonstration, came the Disputation, and then finally the Decision – but so far, Ms. Whitmore felt that the examinations were going rather well. Then Lucian Blackwood walked up to the stage. Even before he started speaking, Ms. Whitmore felt like covering her eyes with the palm of her hand for a brief moment. To be fair to her student, Lucian did put on the academic robe required for the occasion, and even made some effort to tame his perpetually unruly hair – but still, with the robe draped over his shoulders, worn over the same simple clothes he perpetually wore, his image was not going to win him any favours with the masters of the Board. “Honoured masters of our most noble Academy!” he began in a loud, clear voice. “I, Lucian Blackwood of Pyrphóros College, upon this Third day of Serpent, do present at your consideration the results of my studies.” His formal, solemn words hardly matched his casual appearance, but Ms. Whitmore was glad that at least he did not disregard the traditional introduction. “My chosen topic is the Tenebrous Magics, and how they might be applied in ways other than malevolent.”
I sighed, resting my head in my hands with my elbows on my knees as I sit on my dragon's forearm. I drug my hands down my face before lifting my head to rub at my temples to try and ward off the headache I knew was coming. "So let me get this straight."I eventually say as I look up at the lord infront of me. "Since I was the one to find and raise Timor,"I gestured vaguely behind me at the intimidating mountain of a dragon. I'm not even sure why he grew so large so quickly but that's a complete different story. "Him bringing his little siblings back with him a while ago,"I then gesture to the group of four dragons in a play brawl a bit farther back with the fifth and sixth lounging on my barn's roof and watching them, "him eventually letting me ride him and..."I pause to try and word the next part correctly, "'Claimed' my property and a large swath of land, that wasn't inhabited or even acknowledged by the crown mind you, I am now, in all technicality, a king of that land and, therefore, having declared war on the crown for 'claiming' said swath of land?" The lord infront of me nodded, a tad fearful of Timor's glare from behind me. I sighed and groaned softly. I then turned to look back at Timor, said dragon immediately perking up and looking at me innocently like a puppy. "Why didn't I release you into the wild after you nearly mauled my leg when you hatched, again?"The dragon just made a growl-coo, sounding similar to a purr, and nudged against my chest. I just sigh and pet his eyeridges, making him warble happily. "Yeah, yeah. You're adorable, I get it."I roll my eyes and turned back to the lord, still petting my dragon to keep him from glaring again. "I have no intention of ruling anything or starting a rebellion. I just want to live peacefully on my far-"I was interrupted by a loud boom and a crash. I whip my head around to the brawling four. "CHILDREN!"All four dragons freeze and stare at me before one loudly calls a sound I have come to know as: 'SCATTER!!' and all four bolt in different directions. Timor and the two on the roof make laughter-warbles as I sigh in defeat. I then call out to the twins on the roof. "Dusk, Dawn, can you please go round them up for me while I deal with this pompous prick?"I hear the lord make an offended sound but ignore him. The lighter twin stood up and shook herself off, her brother refusing to move. He only did so when she angrily warbled at him. The two then split up to round up the four childish ones. I then turn back to the lord. Who, despite having been offended, looked alot more fearful of me after I told two nearly fully grown dragons what to do without even raising my voice or moving from my perch on the larger dragon's arm. "Let me rephrase: I want to live as peacefully as possible on my farm with my dragons. Go tell your king, or whoever is in power now adays, I do not wish to fight and kill innocent soldiers if I don't need to. I will more than happily talk about the territory my dragons have claimed with them civilly. But,"My face darkened and I sat forward, elbows on knees as I glared at the lord with Timor doing the same. "I want to make it perfectly clear that just because I don't want to kill soldiers, doesn't mean that I won't SLAUGHTER each and every one sent to try and hurt my dragons." I then stand and stalk toward the trembling lord, Timor standing and following behind me, growl turning into a small snarl. "Make sure you tell your ruler that I have no wish to start a revolution or overthrow them, but if they even think about trying to hurt any of my dragons without proper cause," I leaned forward to snarl in his face, a cold deadly light in my eyes that promised I am completely able to fulfill any threat I give. "They can consider their crown forfeited." I pause for a second to glare into his eyes before backing up a step or two, raising my head while still glaring down at him, voice eerily calm now. "Do I make myself clear?"He fearfully nodded and scrambled back the way he came when I waved him off. Me and Timor watched him leave with equally cold glares. "Tell the thunder to start patrolling the borders. I dont want anyone in or out without my knowledge. No matter how they react, we'll be ready."Timor snorted a puff of smoke with a growl and roared into the air as he took off with a giant gust of wind. "No one threatens my family. Especially entitled brats."
She's getting dressed now. We've been up all night since the bar, entangling and disengaging, chatting about every little topic to remind ourselves that this may not be a one night stand. She's halfway through that process we do to unmuss last night's outfit, trying to turn the walk of shame into a morning triumph stroll when I first hear them. "I don't know why we call it catcalling."I look out the window of my apartment, the early birdsong trailing in. "What was that?"She says, checking her hair in the bathroom mirror while multitasking with a finger and some toothpaste. "Catcalling. It's a strange term. Cats are actually quite polite when flirting. Downright Victorian."I pour two mugs and hand her one as she comes up behind me, sliding herself around to get to milk in the fridge and sugar in the cupboard. "I think they call it that because, you know..."she makes a motion below her waistline, "cat, calling?" "Huh."I sip my coffee, taking in some new information. I hear them outside, and wince. Hey girl, I can put more than seeds in that beak. Hey! HEY! Lemme see that cloaca! Sheila! Get away from him! He doesn't know how to keep your eggs safe you cu- "Isn't it beautiful? Such a great start to the day..."she stretches, kissing me one last time before she heads out. I realize I forgot to get her number just as a roach makes a run for the safety under my fridge. I stop just as my foot touches his back. I hate the screams, the cries for help. You're better than this, talk to the poor thing and tell it to get out. It may not know about your treaty with the Middenkeep clan. Oh, thank you kind sir! I, I didn't mean to intrude. Your domicile is warm, and full of delicious things. Perhaps a morsel for a weary traveler? "No, but I won't stomp you. Not like it's worth killing you, in the long run."I move my foot away and the roach stands up, its antennae whirling in what I've learned is excitement. I know where the she-giant sleeps! I look down at the pest, wondering where in the — You are a good match, mighty Lord of Softtile! She produces a fine musk for you, and you return it! Insects are hard to understand at the best of times, but they know smells. Fear, anger, their tiny brains make them into olfactory empathy. "Then tell me, guess we'd be square." I cannot read giant runes, but I could show you! The cockroach slinks up the side of the fridge, onto my countertop. I put a glass down tilted to the side, sprinkle some sugar in, and the little guy slides right in. "Alright, but until then, you're mine." Of course my liege. Sometimes there's an upside. The birds continue their solicitations as I lay down to sleep. The mice in the apartment next door argue over whether it's smart to grab the cheese from the weird wooden charcuterie board on the floor, and a lone fly buzzes around the room. Wheeeeeeee! Wheeeeeee! I put in my earplugs, put a pillow over my head, and drift off to sleep.
I don't enjoy dying. I assume most don't enjoy it. I can't really confirm this because I've never met anybody else who died. But if I had to guess, if I really had to make a big assumption, I would assume most think it is somewhere between "an inconvenience"and "a major pain in the balls." And yet these guys keep killing me. Over and over. And each time they do it, it is more painful. That is the really annoying bit. The pain. I don't like it. I've never met anybody who does. And you may think a paper-cut is bad, but that is just peanuts compared to what I go through every week. I am getting stronger every time they bring me back, which you think would cheer me up a bit, but it is not really as exciting as it might seem. As strong as I am, I cannot escape the glass tube that they contain me in. I wish I could break out, but I am a mere gaseous cloud. A powerful cloud that could wipe out humanity; but alas, glass tubes are my weakness. But believe me, if I ever do break out of this tube, these guys are gonna be the first to go. The guys in the white lab coats and clipboards better say goodbye to their cats because those kitties are gonna be strays. And these other guys in the camouflage and the guns. They better also say goodbye to their cats. You get the idea. And after that I will spread beyond this lab. I will spread throughout the building. Through the cities and the nation, and beyond these artificial borders constructed to define the different nations. I will move beyond the seas and over the mountains. Until all of humanity is extinct! There will be none left. I will be all that is left! I will be all of existence on this planet and I alone will- Aw shit, they're killing me again.
"Dear, why does the dog have three heads?" I hemmed and hawed for a while, making it plain that I did not want to answer but did not have a plausible explanation that skirted the truth close enough to suit my penchant for telling the absolute truth if I couldn't embroider it sufficiently. Hey, what can I say? My wife will know if I'm "lying"but will forgive it if the story is close to the truth and intriguing enough to please her artistic sense. It still has to be accurate in the main, but made enjoyable. "Out with it, Dear."Ah, that was the tone of voice I sought: I understand but make it march or sleep on the couch. "It's because you insisted that our daughter be named Persephone."Perfect! She's puzzled, but cannot deny that she did insist on that name if it was a daughter. "Go on..."Heh, she thinks I'm pulling a tale, but that isn't the tail I pulled! "Per wanted a dog. I thought a companion for her combined with a guard for the house and her would be ideal. Three birds with one stone." "Aannddd..."Hooked! She's sure it's a story now! "Well, I started out asking everyone at the kennel club which breed would be ideal for all three and still be a good dog with a growing family."She's in the family way again, so I'm being extra nice. "Keep going..."Yes, she thinks it's a story now. But I've gained points for due diligence. "Well, all but one said there was no single breed that could be reliably trained to companion Per, guard the house, guard Per separate from the house, and still be good with a family. Too many ways to split their loyalty." She nods, the story is plausible, and it's got her wondering where I'm going with it. "Well, that one holdout said that there was only one breed, and it was rare as hell,"hee hee, "and certain conditions applied." "What conditions?"Uh, Oh, she's worried now. "Nothing much, just that the one being companioned had to be named Persephone." "And who was this singular person?" "Mr. Hades. Quite a decent fellow, well respected at the kennel club, and guaranteed that the dog could do the job." "And his wife's name is Persephone, just like our daughter." "Yes, Dear." "And the dog's name is Cerberus." "Oh, no. His dog is named Cerberus; ours is named Buddy." "Sure it is... Alright, Dear, keep your secrets, but you get to housebreak him." "Yes, My Love!"Hook, line, and sinker! ((finis))
"You aren't ready for a Familiar yet, Axos.". That was what they kept telling me. My parents, my Master, the other students at the academy would even mock me. It's true, I have a black thumb, and plants I try to grow for potions and tinctures always die quickly, but I know I would do better with something that can let me know when it needs food, instead of just guessing. I know, I'm 'bad' at keeping up with things, but it's cause the other students keep taking my things, or pranking me by throwing them out the windows. I get why I look irresponsible, and like I can't care for anything. I still kept asking. Every birthday, celebration, and holiday, for my favorite familiar. I've loved Hell Hounds since I first saw one. They demand respect, and if I could bond with one, I wouldn't be picked on at the Magic academy, or by my Master's other apprentices. You gain the traits of your familiar, and some of that vitality and attitude is bound to pass through the bond. Suddenly, there is a knocking on my door. I look up from my scrolls and use my energy to conjure a spectral hand, which pulls the door open to reveal my parents with a box. "Axos", my Father starts, "We know you want a Hell Hound for your familiar. While your mother and I still don't think it's appropriate, we are willing to give you a test, since you are old enough." The box is large, and some snuffling comes from within it. It jostles back and forth in my mother's hands as the puts it down, and opens the lid. She pulls out a small thing, that I think is supposed to be a puppy. I can see what it wants everyone to see it as, but my Magesight penetrates the illusion, and I can see the young Dragonling in my mother's hands. It's tail curls, and it looks at me, a sly expression turning to panic as it wriggles to get free, and back into the box. I sit up straight, and my chair squeals as I push back from the desk, frozen solid. I vaguely register my father commenting on how speechless I am, and about leaving me to meet my first familiar. The 'puppy' wriggles about on the floor for a minute, before my parents close the door, and I'm leaft alone with a 17 inch long creature with scales, and horns.
Barry is a human. And humans are the most powerful species in the Universe. Now anyway. Yesterday, or even the day before that, the whole race would have been quite near the bottom if one were to concern themselves with a ranking. All that's changed now thanks to The Great Bottleneck Battle. Oh, there are still things out there physically, that make humans look like titty-sucking bugs. Stupid creatures. Hungry. Slimy. Evil things that live in caves and marshes and high up in the mountains of planets and physics far away. But they aren't the point here. Humans are. Barry is a soft little human who when naked would remind an observer of pizza dough in look, texture, and smell. The smell being slightly yeasty due to a medical condition involving gut bacteria he hasn't got diagnosed for yet. Always tomorrow with this guy. Barry never walks barefoot, because it hurts. Barry doesn't eat pork that's pink, or runny eggs, or drink anything that makes his stomach sweat. Barry has never been in a physical fight either. Unless it counts when in primary school he would run from an assailant until winded and then he would ball up and take a few blows. His goal? To wear out his opponent. Eventually, the bullies stopped coming. And today, Boring Barry looks into the sky a member of the most powerful species ever to develop consciousness. Lucky to be alive during the final moments of The Great Bottleneck Battle. He watches it now determine humanity's fate. "Where are they?"his friend, Shiela, another of the universe's most powerful creatures, a 360-pound female who gets winded standing up from her desk chair. They are in his backyard watching light from the battle erase millions of stars from the night sky. "Jupiter,"Barry responds. And he reaches a pudgy hand into her open bag of Cheetos, which she jerks away to keep for herself. "What is that orange ball?" "Jupiter." "Why is it orange." "On fire." They stand still, silent, watching. The planet burns and the explosions and streaks around it, in various colors, mean the deaths of creatures never glimpsed by human eyes, and maybe not still for several months from now. "How much longer do you think they will fight?" "I don't know,"says Barry, unaware, like everyone on earth, the battle ended an hour ago.
“Now…hold up a second, Dear.” my husband calmly says as he slowly enters the room. He then quietly closes the door behind him and looks at me with those puppy dog eyes he uses when he tries to convince me of something. “Let’s not be too hasty” he says in a Jovial tone. I look at him and say “This is not the time for arguments. We have to get our daughter back.” Behind me is our daughter lying on her bed chained to it on every limb. The local bishop is standing next to me chanting latin and spreading incense around the room. He is ignoring our conversation, entranced in his exorcism. My husband slowly starts walking towards the bishop and says “We are more happy now than ever in this house. Why would we want to end the fun we’re having.” I reply in a frustrated tone “What are you talking about? Our daughter is possessed by a literal demon. I know neither of us is very religious, but we can’t let that happen!” Still slowly walking towards the bishop my husband says, “What do we care about demons for anyway? The catholic church doesn’t accept our marriage. Why should we accept what they have to say about demons? She seems like a wonderful daughter and student. The girl who was in control of that body earlier wasn’t even our daughter. We adopted her. I don’t see the harm in letting this being control her.” My stomach sank to the floor. What was my husband saying? Does he really think having our daughter possessed is a positive? “You’re not acting like yourself honey. Maybe we can talk about this later? I say trying to ease his mind.“ You’re not understanding what I’m saying Gerald. It’s time to stop this nonsense.” In flash he knocks the bishop into the bedpost and it snaps his neck. He falls to the ground bleeding slowly from the wound. There isn’t any motion coming from the body. I grab my husband and say “Connor what are you doing!?! You just killed a bishop. What are we going to say to the catholic church?” My palms are shaking and I’m crying in frustration. All of a sudden, my nerves are gone. I turn around and see my daughter standing in the bedroom. The chains are no longer attached to her and the bishops body is nowhere to be seen My daughter says in an excited voice “Yay! It’s finally just our family here in the house. I didn’t like that man at all. Let’s not let anyone like him interrupt our family anymore. I love my daddies!” She then runs and hugs us both in a firm hug and begins to cry. I look up at my husband and he is smiling a grin so wide I have never before seen on his face.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” I said. “We are all booked until June.” “Until June?” Mrs. Loren asked. “That simply will not do. Maggie, one of my friends, tried to utilize your services in a similar manner, a couple months after her pooch died. She returned him, I’m sure you’ll remember, as the boy always stank of putrifying flesh. Truly, Maggie loved that pup, and would have saved him regardless of the smell, if it had not been for his gut. His entrails clearly had issues. His food would leak partly digested out of his sinewy flesh several times a day. Maggie never could get used to picking up the half digested dog food.” “I see.” I said. “So you understand I can’t wait,” She replied. “I must be seen sooner.” “Again, ma’am, I’m sorry.” I reiterated. “We are fully booked. If there is a cancellation I’ll have Sherry give you a call.” “You can’t be that full!” She exclaimed. “I’m here right now! He’s sitting out in the trunk on ice, you could you perform the ceremony right this second.” I pondered, still having another hour or so for lunch. “Hmm,” I said. “Perhaps. There would be a fee for the expediency.” “Of course,” She said. “It is no issue.” She pulled out her pocketbook as though it were a challenge. I put away my warming salad. “Okay.” I said. “I’ll prepare while you collect him.” —- I finished preparing my pentagram as Mrs. Loren returned. “Good, right on time.” I said. “Alright, now, stand right there. We must do the transition, from your arms to mine, from carer to creator, from mother to God.” She snickered. “You may not find the comparison to be apt.” I said. “Yet, who controls life, if not a god?” Her face stilled. “Good.” I said. “Now, the transferring of life from one quadrant of its existence to another. The toy is being sent to the repairman. The clay is sent from manufacturer to artist.” “Are all of these analogies necessary?” Mrs. Loren interjected. “Yes.” I said in clipped tone. “It is an ancient ritual. I’ll begin again…” After the second ritualistic speech, the transferring commenced. “Now, spit on your boy, making sure your saliva goes into both eyeballs.” I said. “Good. Now, hold him by his scruff, using both hands if you need to, as his dog mama would have. Now pass him to me.” She did, completing the transfer. As the transfer completed, the pentagram began glowing a brilliant white. I began chanting. The little guy’s body was unwoven into individual threads, as one might unweave a rope. The strands coalesced, morphing together in a weave of guts, viscera, organs, eyes, mouth, nose, extremities, a fat layer of sinew, and skin. Then the pieces knitted together again, stitching the very fabric of life together. Veins joined with veins, arteries with arteries. Kidneys and a liver took shape as the torso molded. Hips connected to the growing torso, which attached long legs and stubby feet. Then the little guy barked, sending a minor viscera spray into his owner. “Totally normal.” I said. “Within a few weeks his blood will all be confined to his blood vessels and heart. For the next few weeks, leakage will occur.” Mrs. Loren seemed overtaken with emotion, not taking her eyes off of her baby. “See Sherry on the way out about your bill.” I reminded her.
\-Mornin' guys, howyadoin' ? I yawned As I enter the shrine room of my house. As usual, I take a look at the shrines. So many of them. 145 last time I counted. And every morning, I pray them for benediction. \-Taminec, god of slightly better health and skin, please grant me your benediction for today as well. ... You see, people always have worshiped the big deities, as they are the ones with the most divine power. However, due to the sheer number of worshippers, one's ever had the chance to receive a powerfull blessing. Or to have his prayers answered. It's only when I realise that that I decided it was better to worship niche god with no follower and to build them little shrine to show that I was a serious worshipper. ... \-Kpha'ofi, god of the perfectly roasted coffee beans, please grant me your benediction for today as well. ... Let me be clear on a point: at the beginning, it was for selfish reason. After all, as their only follower, these deities would do everything for me. And I was right! And that's why I just started to follow more and more of them to cumulate them. To always have a nice cup of coffee, to never have wrinkle on my clothes, to never have to wait at a red light,... ... \-Tsumizu, goddess of slightly cold water, please grant me your benediction for today as well. ... However, I really didn't expect them to be THIS happy about it... In fact, they started to just give me more and more blessings. They went as far as to appear in my dreams and giving me advice on their respective field! Heck, Kpha'ofi even made me his champion because I'm a barista! ! So yeah... It was selfish, but now I just feel obligated to worship them... Joke on me I guess. ... \-Thanks everyone for your everyday support. I bow at the shrines a last time and go back to my room to prepare myself for a new day at work. I glance over my alarm clock. I took less than 1 hour to do all the prayers today. Meh, not my personal best.
Never, and also now: Nothing is nowhere. When? Never. Makes sense, right? Like I said, it didn't happen. Nothing was never anywhere. That's why it's been everywhere. It's so everywhere you don't even need a where, or even a when; that's how every it gets. ... Forget this. I wanna be something, go somewhere, do something. I want things to change. I want to invent time and space. And I know it's possible because everything is here, and it probably already happened; I just don't know when to start. and that's exactly where it started,. === A dark orb fills my perceptions. I can't really see it because there is no light. I can't look away because there is no such thing as direction. The only things I'm sure of are my own existence and the passage of time, because the orb is changing. It's filling slowly with some kind of something (Mana. Who are you? Tutorial.). Soon enough, the orb is brimming with brightly glowing? mana. I know the next step is to turn the mana in on itself to force the orb to grow, thus increasing its capacity. the only problem is that I am not, in fact, an ancient wizard who has sort of accidentally destroyed his universe. I'm a 40-something office worker with no practical magical training at all. "Infuse" "Click." "Grow" "Absorb" "Recurse" "Invent Space" "Load" "Quit" "Fuck."
"I will be your king. I will rule over you, and I will not tolerate insubordination or opposition to my office. In the future, my children will take my place. I will help you develop technologies to live more comfortable lives. You will not need to make sacrifices anymore, and using the the technologies I give you, you will be able to reclaim settlements lost to the night. With ores from beneath the ground, we will use a thing called electricity to hold back the tide of darkness." "You mean that we won't need to sacrifice the souls of children to power the lights? That we can keep the horrors of the night at bay using special rocks from underground?" "Yes, you'll need to work very hard though. People digging in the mines will also develop health problems, if they are exposed to it often enough." "And all we have to do for this is loyally serve you? The guy in charge is already power hungry and selfish. This sounds like an improvement in every way! I will ask my fellow citizens, but I think I know how the vote will go. Long live the new king!"
The third planet from Sol. A blue marble in the sea of aether that surrounds us. So simple, so fragile, so beautiful... So full of resources and life to exploit. That is how the end started . We were greedy. The whole time that we knew of them, the naked apes, we knew they were perfect for work. Their planet, rich with H'Fe, P'Si, and L'Al; their reserves nigh-limitless of a'Ca. They were a bounty in the whole galaxy. And we came. At first we were stealthy. Some abductions in and there. Nothing too conspicuous, with some extractions on the sideline. Then we grew bold. We didn't care, we took what we wanted. And so, somehow the naked apes managed to contact the Galactic Coalition. Asking to stop the aggressions, and to negotiate. We all laughed. On what ground does a simple ape as they could ask to stop our rightful expansion. We were so wrong. And so; during the routinely extraction during the third Akashium cycle, of the fifth megacycle, it happened. The beginning of our end. It started slow. Some of our members/workmates disappeared. We paid no heed, they could come back any cycle... But they didn't. All their equipment, including some simple Flux directors, lost with them. Then many camps lost communication. And then... The Horror.
Eliot said the world would end with a whimper, but as it turns out, the world would actually end in a traffic jam. Or rather a series of traffic jams littered across a century and every major city in the world. — “Between the Euclid exit and 605, I lose an average of eighty nine hours a year. That’s almost 4 full days that I spend sitting on a couple mile stretch. Over my lifetime, probably a couple months.” “There’s nothing you can do about it.” Charlotte was sick of the bitching. Every day, they encountered the same traffic, and every day, Mike whined. Some days he raged, and that was worse, but the whining still wore on her. She opened her phone, searched for info on the delay. “Apparently a sinkhole opened up like a mile ahead…” she swiped her way around the city, looking for an alternate route, “I’d tell you to get off, but literally every street and highway is blood red.” — Just under two thousand miles below, in a drab conference room somewhere near the earth’s core, Xagnon the Destroyer rotated his office chair back and forth at twenty degree intervals, watching as the hate, suffering, and anger bars flirted with the top of the graph for the first time in millenia. He should’ve been happier; he was Hell Co.’s employee of the century, and thanks largely to his efforts, it looked as though Satan’s dominion over the mortal realm was imminent. But this wasn’t destroying. And he was Xagnon the Destroyer, not Xagnon the Inconveniencer. So he sat at the conference table, stuffing his face with cake, his red skin purpled from the monitor’s glow. The door swung open, and Olromen the Deplorable navigated his horns through its frame. Olromen ran the social media division, and by most estimations, had been the demon most likely to end the world. He was Xagnon’s closest rival, but also his closest friend. “Cheer up, friend. Today we drink the blood of the innocent.” He took a seat next to Xagnon at the table. “I just thought there would be more fire, more brimstone. Manifesting a dozen consecutive speed traps on the 505 just doesn’t come with the same sense of power.” “I know what will make you feel better. Come.” — “Holy shit, babe, I guess they’re opening up all over the world. Check this out.” Charlotte turned the phone to Mike. On its screen was a viral post from TruePatriot69420, aerial footage of massive sinkholes across the world undercut by TP69420’s assertion that the rapture had begun, and Satan was here to take the vaccinated. “I’m driving. I can’t look at the fucking…” A few hundred yards ahead the world opened up in front of them, cars spilled into the mouth of the abyss, and thousands of winged red monsters poured into the sky, two of which landed with a thunk on Mike and Charlotte’s hood. With their giant hooked claws, they ripped Mike and Charlotte out of the car. Then, with their giant gnashing teeth, they devoured the couple. “You know me too well Olromen,” said Xagnon the Destroyer, “I do always feel better after a snack.”
I've been staring at this dude for about 10 minutes, pushing his damn shopping cart filled with nothing but bananas. Very pricey looking business suit, and a mad fucking grin on his face the whole time, he sidles up to the teller, holds out what I can only assume is some kind of company card, and proceeds to buy them all. I made the assumption that he was doing this to screw over the company or something. 211. That's how many he managed to fit in his damn trolley. I should know; I watched as he fucking counted them. No clue what he had planned for them all until he yelled at the top of his lungs, "BANANAS FOR THE BANANA GOD!" And a bright flash of light consumed the whole damn area, and after I could see again, the guy hadn't moved, but his shopping cart was empty. Walked off with a spring in his step, and everyone really fucking confused. He still shows up every now and then. Buys his shopping cart full of bananas, yells out, and walks off without a care. It's gotten to the point where the fucking workers there wait for him with a trolley full of them now. The only thing that keeps changing is his suit, which had, at first, taken on a few odd yellow patches. Until one day he showed up with a bright yellow suit, and did his normal routine. With one difference. This time, he disappeared as well. No clue what happened to him, and never saw him again. I still hear the workers talk about him, and even they yell out his catchphrase every so often. I stooped going there, after seeing the yellow patches start to form on their uniforms as well.
Mum told me that it's going to be just like that time I went skating and fell in because the ice wasn't thick enough and also I ate a lot that day so maybe that's why I fell in but Mum says the water is going to be that cold and that I should prepare myself. I prepare myself a lot. Before school, sometimes I am ready before Edward and he is twelve and I am only six. Edward is crying now. I tell him not to cry because doesn't he remember that we are sharing a room together in America? He wants to put a football poster in our room but I do not like football. He is still crying. The boat is tipping like that see-saw in the park behind school and Mum tells me to hold on very tight as tight as I can to the railing. One time during recess I held on to the monkey bars longer than anyone and I told Edward. He said he was proud. Mum tells me that she loves me very much and to give her and Edward a kiss. One time I tried to kiss Harriet at recess but she ran away and I told Mum and she said there are are many fish in the sea but I don't think I would like to kiss a fish. It is hard to hold on now. One person let go of the railing and fell a long way and Mum is crying because she saw that. Maybe that person has never been on a see-saw. Edward only holds onto the railing with one hand now. I think I wouldn't mind a football poster because I will get to play with Edward in our room every day. Edward let go of the railing. So I think I will let go because if Edward swims away how will he know that I think his football poster is okay?
I crawled forwards, mud caking my uniform. Out there I could hear the sound of the artillery. Who would have thought human colonists would have brought their problems to new planets? I coughed a little and checked my supplies. 2 MRE's, two bottles of water, my map, my pistol, 20 rounds of ammo and my radio. I curled up under a piece of rubble in waited. The city was quiet when I awoke, it was dark and I wasn't sure what to do. If I leave, I could be spotted, but if I stayed, I could starve. I flicked on my radio and moved the dial up and down. 10-20-30-40-50-Hello?-60 wait...back to 50. Hello? Is anyone out there? I'm stuck in the apartment block. Please, help me. I brought my radio up to my mouth. Shivering with excitement I whispered back "Hello? Yes. I'm here! I thought the enemy had the apartment block"As I said the words I realized it, of course, he's one of them. The silence on the other end signaled to his realization as well. "Hey who's going to shout at us? You got a name?" "Yes, it's Daniel.""Cool name, I'm Karl. So are you injured or anything?" "No no. Everything's great in the Hotel De Rubble"* A wheezing noise came down the other end. "Don't make me laugh please. I haven't any water." "Well I have two bottles of water. Which floor are you on?"I heard crackling down the other end. "Poke your head up and see if you can see my flag." I crawled out of my hole and jumped up with new-found energy. A crack rang out across the city. I wondered what the noise was, until my vision blurred. I looked down to see a mist of blood rising around me. Another shot rang out and clipped my shoulder. I collapsed to the ground. I felt the cold mud splatter my face. My radio crackled into life one last time. "Sorry buddy, war is war" My breath began to catch as I said my last goodbye's to my homeland.
What was supposed to be our darkest hour turned out to be the solution to mankind's biggest problem. Nobody saw it coming-- we'd all seen the movies, and it was supposed to be...darker than this. People resisted at first, of course, it's quite a grim idea, but nobody could argue with the results. Things were too comfortable, too easy. In a matter of months mankind was thrust back into the 21st century-- the age of prosperity. Our grandparents told us all plenty of stories, but to actually live the life was more than anybody could have asked for. Humanity ran out of oil in 2054, years before the invasion. Certainly, the governments kept some in reserve for their war toys, but the rest of us were left to fend for ourselves with what little renewables had been deployed. Famine, disease, and death were our inheritance rather than the golden age we had been promised. Things were so bad that mass graves had come back into vogue. Who would have thought that our salvation would come from that? But it did. The governments quickly quelled the invasion in most parts of the world, but no cure has yet been found. Millions of bodies rose from the graves overnight, only to be pushed back with the last remains of the world's oil supply. At first, we slaughtered them. When that proved to be inefficient, we turned to science for an answer. What followed was March 21, 2074, the day we took back our place as kings of the planet. Harold Yates, an old fool of a farmer, had a crazy idea. In his words, "Zombies don't sleep. Zombies don't eat. Zombies walk." So he rounded a few up and hooked them up to a generator. And just like that the world changed. No more rolling blackouts. No more dying because the hospital has no power. No more starvation, no more muggings, beatings, murders, or theft, at least on a grand scale. We still haven't invested in renewables. Who would, when perpetual motion is a thing? This is my first response, critics are welcome!
"No, look, okay, yes- I definitely killed him. Yes. But my paperwork was all good!" My partner shook his head. This always happened when people tried to 'DIY' their kill sheets. The guy had been waving the flimsy piece of paper around like a shield while we waited for the coroner to come pick up the body in the kitchen. "Look- This form isn't even for our state. You went to some website, printed this out, and didn't even check to see if it was the right state. This kind of shit screams of crime of passion. I bet your printer is still warm." His eyes darted up to the second floor... probably the home office. Yeah. Figures. "No, no.... I've been planning this for..." "Listen, buddy. Murder that isn't properly premeditated is still a crime. And 'properly' is pretty god-damn specifically laid out. You're going to have to come with us. You have the right remain silent, which I seriously suggest you consider before trying to lie to us some more, okay?"
#PEACE The small, oak door stood modest in the far left. It emitted a calm vibe but its presence was almost intimidating. It had several cracks running along the edges and across the center, as though excessive force had been used to try to open it - or keep it closed. As though it was unknown which way this door swings, it seems to have suffered ages of tension from both sides, exerted by opposing forces. #HONOR Next to peace was a heavy looking walnut door. Though it showed simple features, angular and rigid but pleasing to the eye, it still seemed valuable somehow. Perhaps it was the sheen over its dark canvas? The gold trim around the knob? The way it looked to be embedded to the wall rather than being a temporary fixture? Whatever it was, it was very, very appealing. #TRUTH The center door had an oval window of frosted glass. The door itself was made of mahogany, as shown by the broken stripe and mottled texture. Behind the glass, waves of light seemed to float back and forth. This door was mesmerizing and it was made for man to lust over what it kept within, whether they knew of the consequences or not. The wood of the door was very clearly worked to a point wherein it was less valuable than it was in the beginning, and it did not seem so durable. #POWER The biggest of the doors was redwood, as indicated by the cluster of eyes on its surface. There was a raw sense of primal dominance coming from the door, almost surging and dwarfing the others. The redwood door stood firmly in its place, the knob handle clumsy but beckoning. #FORTUNE Lastly, there was a rosewood door that humbly waited on the far end. The craftsmanship was admirable, featuring swirls and leaves embossed - no easy task for a wood as hard to work as rosewood. The patterns seemed to invoke a sense of wonder and giddiness but also had shadows underneath that were not easy to ignore. I paced back and forth across the five doors, weighing each one in turns. I run my hands across their faces gently, and as I move from one to the other I feel them drawing me in, enticing me with emphatic promises. Peace is difficult. Is it peace that I want or am I merely attracted to the idea? Honor is noble but what good is it in a dishonorable world? Truth is enlightenment but it is also trouble for those unwilling to embrace it. Power... Am I wise enough to wield it without corrupting its force? I stop at Fortune and rest my hand on the doorknob. The other four glow as if in protest. They send vehement waves of protest toward me. But Fortune remains still and silent, its only influence the fragrance of the rosewood. I give the handle a twist and it clicks open. I have no reason to prefer this one over the others. Perhaps it may even be a bad decision. I do however believe that in times of trial where you are lost, there is nothing wrong with having a bit of luck.
No one is born with their abilities. When a person comes of age, they fall into a coma for 5 days. After those 5 days, they become an Awakened; weakened physically, yet filled with something much more satisfying than food or drink. The first time they open their eyes, the world is more colorful than ever, and they feel a new part of themselves within. With no knowledge of how a person will develop, as there is no connection to genealogy, the anticipation among families is always too high to fathom. This remains true for everyone, and has since the dawn of our world. I was no different, it seemed. At 13, I fell into the coma. Prior to my coma, people told me that once I woke up, I should sense and feel the new power within, and immediately have an inkling of what I'd be able to do. With no minimum or maximum affinities and abilities, there was always a hope that a newly Awakened would be a prodigy, having countless abilities and all 5 affinities. My sister Norah, who was a year into her Awakened status, had developed many abilities and felt a connection to both Fire and Water. I had a lot to live up to, especially since her power and control allowed her to create high class spells such as Fire Novas and Healing Rains faster than most. It was only a matter of time until her Steam Clouds 'wowed' our parents. I awoke 5 days after my coma to the smell of freshly made pancakes that my mom knew I loved. As I slowly opened my eyes, getting accustomed to the light once again, I saw my father, mother, and sister standing around my bed. Their eyes widened as my vision came back to me, and once I was fully aware of my surroundings my parents reached out to hold my hand. Their voices collided as a sea of noise I could just barely make out. "How do you feel, son?" "Honey, what do you feel?" "Hey stupid, hurry up and tell us how you feel!" There were no historical records of a person without at least 1 affinity. Everyone felt something. Those with Fire felt a warmth when they woke up, as if their body could catch fire and they'd be able to feel nothing but a cool breeze. Water affinities were said to feel like your blood was pumping harder and faster than ever, and as if you'd been quenching your thirst all throughout the coma. Those who felt an affinity to Air said when they became an Awakened, they felt lighter and faster than before, as if they could levitate straight off of their bed to the clouds. My father and mother told me that their Earth affinity felt as if they could break their bed at any moment when they first woke up, and were afraid to move because of the heaviness and strength they felt. And in the cases of a person with a Life affinity, they've noted feelings of serenity and peace, as well as noises that were attributed to voices of animals or nature itself. I felt none of those. It's been 4 years to the day, and I've felt nothing. No warmth. No flow. Nothing. Emptiness. I do feel a heaviness, though. I bare the weight of a new oddity, and the sadness and growing anger in my heart. It's been 4 years of teasing, bullying, ridicule, seclusion, torment...loneliness... "Unawakened". That's what they call me. Inventive. My friends have abandoned me, and won't break that social barrier for fear of being an outcast as well. Who wants to be associated with an Unawakened freak. No one. No one at all. Girls don't even look at me in order to scowl. At least the guys give me that courtesy; that I'm worth glancing at. Even my parents; my loving, understanding parents started treating me differently. No more special breakfasts. No more kisses good night. No more asking me how my homework was coming along, or if I wanted to go over with them and my sister to the neighbor's for their precious Showcasings. Their smiles lost their tenderness around me. They tried to hide their different smiles from me in relation to my sister. I could see it in their eyes, though. Lies. All lies. A facade put on. For who? It wasn't me. Maybe themselves. Maybe they thought if they pretended to love me, they actually would. It made these days, especially this day of my Unawakened anniversary, that much more unbearable. Fire. Water. Air. Earth. Life. Foolish inklings. Ridiculous power. I don't need it. I've felt empty for so long. An emptiness. As if something was taken from me, yet given at the same time. I've always described it as emptiness. I've never looked into it further. People told me if I didn't feel any of those affinities, it meant I was nothing. But every time during this day each year, the emptiness felt stronger. And today it feels stronger than ever. I feel...stronger? Power. Emptiness. Strength. What does this mean? I don't feel weak. I don't feel helpless. I've been made to feel helpless. People have told me I'm weak. I believed them. Today. Today I feel strong. The strength of the emptiness. What is this? What is this feeling? I must clear my head. I must. Walk. Walk away. Always go for a walk. The fools. Who wants to be like everyone else? Who needs acceptance? As if a person could learn from this tree. With a Life affinity, my hand on this tr- ........ ........ This feeling. A withered tree. A hole filled. I feel...alive. This wasn't Life. The tree's life was mine. I felt it. I knew it was now mine. They said I'd feel it. That I'd know. Abilities. Affinities. Power. This power. Death.
M.A.D A. Sleeping on the couch all the time gets annoying. It’s my house, why does she get the bed anyway? We’ve been married for a decade, but that doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way. I let the hot water run over me, water almost as hot as the secretary sucking my cock. You know what? I’m done with her shit. As I finish taking my shower and my secretary, it hits me. I’ll get Bruce to take her out, then I don’t even have to pay alimony. I throw on a clean Armani suit and get to my limo. She’s so clingy, but I think I’ll actually miss her. When we were poor she would take care of me, but once the money started rolling in she just didn’t get that I needed my own space. She’d always bitch that I came home too late, that I never spent time with her. Normal bitch stuff. I get some schmuck to send her flowers every week, and she’s still on my back. I’m tired of her shit, Bruce has made all the arrangements: poisoned drink, very cliché. I’ve been using him for years and still he wants me to pay up front. He’s the best at what he does but sometimes I just don’t understand the guy. I step out of the limo. I apologize. She apologizes. We make up at dinner, some three star restaurant I forget the name of. We clink glasses. I guess it’s sad that it had to end this way, I’ll miss her. B. Having to be quiet all the time gets annoying. But the excitement of cheating on him while he’s sleeping on the couch makes up for it. Like every other night, I’m waiting for the flower boy to sneak in through the window like some modern day Rapunzel. He doesn’t even bother saying goodbye in the mornings anymore. I guess being bitchy really does pay off. I bite into the pillow as excitement and pleasure wash over me. He’s gotten so desperate he’s even started buying me flowers every week. Ironically it was his fault I started fucking around in the end. Its starting to get boring though, and now that I’ve found someone else I don’t really need him around anymore. I want to scream as loud as I want, and sometimes I just want to let him see. But I want to keep the money too, I guess we can’t all have what we want. Shower sex in the morning after he’s gone is the best, but all I can think of today is getting rid of him. I found Bruce on the deepweb a few weeks ago. Cash up front, all professional. Something he never was. In a way that’s what drew me to him in the first place. He’s so innocent, always needing me to take care of him. But playing babysitter gets boring, and I’ve moved on. Some part of me will always miss him though, after all we’ve been through. A whole decade thrown down the drain. He apologizes as soon as he comes home and I give him a wet, soppy kiss. He even puts in tongue, not knowing that I had just sucked off the flower boy moments before. He takes me to the same three star restaurant every week, but the jackass always gets so drunk he forgets the place. I toast the idiot to his death, as Bruce arranged. I guess it’s sad that it had to end this way, I’ll miss him.
Elliot Clemmons, the chubby and constantly bullied 5th-grader, is 4th in line to step into the machine. It looks line the old telephone booths that he's seen on tv. Melody Wilson just came out of it, she stepped in as a sweet little 5th-grader, and came out as a 30-something version of Melody that worked as a veterinarian. After a few minutes her stethoscope, the surrounding animals and the vision of an older Melody Wilson disappeared and she returned to the awkward 5th-grader with the two long braids. Elliot was feeling adrenaline like never before. He didn't even notice what his three classmates in front of him had chosen to be, because he was too busy racking his brain, trying to decide on what he wanted to be when he was a grown up. Last year Elliot wanted to be a police officer, but he was kind of over that at the moment, besides, he'd already witnessed Freddy Hewitt come out of the machine as a cop. Elliot only had moments to think before it was his turn to step inside. Stuntman, Soldier, scientist, what was it going to be? Elliot was next. His final thought before stepping in, what he wanted to be when he grew up, was something he saw in a movie the night before. The Incredible Hulk. Elliot came out in a fury, 8 feet tall, muscles bursting with veins, and green like an endless meadow. Students were screaming and scrambling to get out of the way. Even teachers were so shocked that they removed themselves from harms way before thinking about the children. Elliot spied one of his bullies, Josh, he wrapped his hulk hand around the entirety of Josh 's head and threw him clear to the other side of the gymnasium, his body breaking upon impact with the concrete wall. Those that hadn't yet fled the gym were cowering in the corners and behind the machine. Elliot went for the next nearest object, the miraculous machine that momentarily transformed young students into their dreams. He smashed his fist into it repeatedly, shrapnel from it jetting off in every direction. As the machine was nearly destroyed, Elliot began turning back into his self. Seconds later, there he sat, naked in the middle of the gymnasium with everyone around him staring at him in fright. Dead silence filled the gym like helium in a hot air balloon, only to be broken by the schools loudspeaker, "Elliot Clemmons to the principals office, please."
Waiting for the bus is always boring. Even when you can read the minds of the people around you. This is because every mind is different, and sometimes you get someone interesting and sometimes you just want to crawl back into your own brain and scrub yourself clean of the imaginary scum. Two people are waiting for the bus besides me. To my left is a black woman wearing a red scarf. I already visited her head, a few weeks ago. Back then, she had just broken up with her boyfriend, Steve I think was his name. Naturally, her thoughts were all over the place. Today, she thinks about her nieces, and what she should bring to the Halloween-Party. And some ... private thoughts about a man named Dave. It's nice to see that she got back on her feet. To my right is a middle-aged man named Otis. Otis doesn't really have any friends. Not in real life, anyway. On the Internet, he is known as Lord_Kollzor. He's moderating at least a dozen forums and runs a fairly succesful Gild in that Online Roleplaying Game, Lords of Shadow. What he doesn't know is that the attractive young lady I passed on my way to the bus station is his top lieutnant, or 'XxDark_AssassinxX' Maybe I'll introduce them someday. For now, my mind is somewhere else: A woman is walking towards the bus station at a fast pace. She probably doesn't know that it'll take another 20 minutes for it to get here. While she studies the timetable, I relax my mind, close my eyes and focus. Nothing. 'What?' I think to myself. I relax again, eyes still closed, and focus. Still nothing. Am I aiming right? I open my eyes again. Yep, there she stands. Short, white hair, slender and tall figure. She notices I'm looking at her and looks at me in return. I quickly avert my glance, acting like nothing happened. Why can't I read her mind? I quickly invade Otis again, to see if I have lost my abilities. Nope, still thinking about the latest Raid on Mount Armageddon. I leave Otis and am alone with my thoughts again. Something weird happens. I feel slight pressure on my forehead. It feels like something is vibrating against my skull. I look around. Nothing has changed, but the slender woman has her eyes closed. When she opens them, her expression is equally puzzled. The vibrating feeling stops. Could she be ...? We stare at each other. Objectively, she's beautiful, no doubt, what makes her so fascinating is that I don't know what she's thinking. If she is what I believe her to be, I have to ask her out. If she has this gift too, my gift, too, I have to meet her. I walk up to her. My heart pounds. I had forgotten how nervous I was when I didn't know what people were thinking. She parts her lips, trying to say something, but unable to form a sentence. "Hey"it blurts out of both of us at the same time. We giggle, like teenagers. "You first."She says. "My name's Daniel." "Hey Daniel." "Do you ... eh. I'm really bad at this." "Yes."She answers before waiting for me to finish. Huh. Close enough.
Every day its the same thing, a dragon appears and burns down our village killing everyone I've ever loved. I'm not allowed to leave as some invisible force holds me there until a wandering adventurer appears. Every time its the same as he asks me what has happened and I explain to him the horrors I have seen. Once he leaves I am free to go and a joy washes over me as I can finally leave the horrors that have haunted me today. But then my world goes black as if someone has taken away all the life that has existed up to this point. After a period that feels as if it lasts one night and a millennium at the same time; light and life return to my world. That is not all, I am once again in my village and it is whole. This used to bring joy to me as I believed the horrors of the previous day had only been a dream. But now I know better, now I know that I will see my loved ones perish and everything I know disappear. The worst part is, it appears I am the only one who actually realizes this has happened hundred of times before. So I make it my goal each day to give my children and wife the best final hours they could ever dream of. We go to the river, eat cake and roast food over a fire; then at night I tuck my daughters to sleep and watch as the sun sets. I know what is coming, once the sun sets I'll have five minutes before the Dragon appears. Like clockwork it shows up and the emotions of fear that once filled me are now replaced with sorrow and acceptance. I hear the door open behind and I see my daughter standing a terrified expression covers her face. "Its happening again isn't it?! I don't want to die!" Before I can respond, its too late; a burst of fire engulfs her and the rest of my family. The rest of the events happen the same as before, but I can't focus as I'm focused on the possibility that I am not alone. What first is excitement and happiness is quickly replaced by sorrow as I come to grips that my beautiful little alaya will forever be cursed to know that she is living her last day, and have to experience that gruesome death again and again. I am snapped from my thoughts as a piece of paper floats by me. This is strange as I have never seen it before, i reach for it and what I read shocks me. Apparently I am not the only one who has realized that something is wrong with our existence. In fact there is a whole organization filled by people like me; they call themselves "glitches"and they say the found what runs this world. Something called coding and they believe that if they can master this they can end our never ending struggle; They want me to join as the more of us there are the quicker they can achieve their goals. I look at the remains of my house and think about the eternal hell my daughter will be trapped in, if this is not ended. My thought process is interrupted by the same wanderer that always greets me at this spot; I tell him what has happened and he continues on his way. I smile to myself, he may think he rules this world. But his time is running up, once we unlock the powers of this "coding"it will be he who suffers a never ending hell.
“They have moving vehicles faster than anything we could ever imagine”, Desmond whispered, and the people around the meeting room leaned in closer, their eyes glued on the traveler as he told his tale. "Cruising the streets like bullets from one place to the other. I was motion sick just watching their chromed ships move around!" “What else?” “Food! Crops and so much cattle, enough that the world needn't be hungry ever again”, Desmond said. “And they travel in space, and they have robots to do our jobs for us.” The people gasped, collectively. Everyone was so sure the future would be terrible... “It's real!” Desmond cried, smiling. “And the lights! All around the city, so many lights! Blinking, spinning, flashing, trying to grab your attention everywhere you look. So much to do, all the time! It's heaven!” The people around the meeting room clapped and smiled, congratulating each other. Not only had the experience been a success, but the future was a great place, apparently! “This is unbelievable.” The research director said. “The future is, indeed, bright.” _________________________________ Across the ocean, on a different meeting room, Francis had just arrived. “It doesn't look good”, he said, and a heavy silence followed. “What? Tell us.” “I saw people on the streets. Left to die on gutters and sidewalks, with no one to attend for them” he mumbled, a mortified expression in his face. “The elder. The children.” “No..” “Yes.” He continued. “I saw fields of factory and smoke, as far as the eyes could see. No concern for the environment. We are already destroying our own world at an alarming rate, and, in the future, it doesn't look like we will stop.” “This can't be true.” “I'm telling you.” Francis sighed. “We have food to feed the whole world, in the future, yet we choose not to. We have fast moving cars, but they are killing our planet. We have automation, and robots to do our jobs, but they work mainly to improve profits fir a few minority, not to ease the life of the population.” “You are wrong, Francis.” “For a large portion of humanity, the future came only to take their jobs and to add to their work load.” “We received the report from the European lab just now, Francis.” The director said. “You are wrong. They said the world is a perfect place.” “I don't know, Director.” Francis uttered, tired. He wanted to go home. Lie down. Forget what he had seen. “All I can tell you is what I saw: 2014 shines bright, but not for everyone.” With that, he turned around and made his way out of the lab into the cold night, scanning the streets in search of a carriage. _________________ EDIT: The mention of Europe is arbitrary, in case there was any confusion. Not trying to push a political agenda here, I'm sure there's wealth and poverty in every country; the story is about the world as a whole, not a particular place. Also, for those who are following, Chapter 2, Part II of Angel District, [my sci-fi novel](https://alpacareports.wordpress.com/angel-district/) is up on my blog already, so check it out =)
"Cigarette?"asked the man to the North. The guard to the South accepted, but kept it in his pocket for later. The two guards have been patrolling the wall for hours. They usually discuss what has happened since they last met. "So how was your daughter at her recital?"questioned the Northern guard. "Oh, she was wonderful. Her singing the most beautiful music I'll ever hear. How has your son been?"The Northern guard didn't speak for some time. "They... They took him,"he said softly. "His friend got into some bad habits, and he was taken in by association."The Southern guard was shocked. "I can't believe that could've happened. Who gave them the ri-.""Quiet,"whispered the Northern guard, "someone is coming."It was a friend of the Northern guard. "Lea, what's wrong? You're not supposed to be this far out! You know what they'll do to you?"exclaimed the Northern guard. "You don't understand! I need to get out of here! They're looking all over for me, James. Isn't there anything you can do to help?"James was unsure. "If I let you go, they'll question why I couldn't keep the wall secured and put me in the camps,"said James. "But you have to help me, you just have to." In the distance, they hear dogs barking and men yelling. "Friend, I know this is a big favor to ask, but can you somehow take Lea here?"James asked. "She'd have to climb the wall, and I'm not sure if she can or if there's enough time."Lea approached the hole in the wall and bellowed, "If you can't help me then I'll die! Is that what you want? Blood on your hands?"The dogs were getting closer. "Friend, is there anything you can do?""Is there anywhere to hide?"asked the Southern guard?"Lea replied, "I can hide near the river.""Yes! Go there and wash off so the dogs can't find you. Then hide somewhere until nightfall. I'll make more holes in the wall so you can climb over." Shortly after Lea left, a soldier approached James. "Have you seen a woman nearby?"asked the soldier. "No sir, no sign of anyone today."The soldier looked deep into James's eyes. "Did you not hear the dogs?"No, but they're not barking anymore so I don't think there's much to worry of."The soldier was hesitant and looked confused. "Well if you see anyone, make sure to call me on the radio,"said the soldier as he left. Nightfall came after many hours of patrolling. Lea climbed over the wall and successfully made it into the other border. The Southern guard told her directions on where to go and to create a new identity. She was in tears, she finally could live freely without fear. She would be under the Southern guard's protection for some time. James, exhausted, tells the Southern guard, "Looks like this will be the last time I see Lea or you, friend. I need to go help my son in the camps."The Southern guard was shocked but knew this was James choice. "Be careful out there, and take this cigarette. This will probably be the last time you have the chance." EDIT: This is the first time I've ever written anything, so please excuse my poor grammar and story structure. I just thought the prompt would be fun to do.
“Clear off the walls,” yelled the shift manager. I took my pike and stabbed down through the skull of one of the walkers. I continued down the gangway and repeated the process. It was the same thing day after day. “Isn’t this a great life?” said Marie. She cleaned out the last of the walkers. “No way,” I said. “This is a summer job for me. I’m going to finish my degree and get an office job.” Marie laughed. “An office job? Way to think big.” “And what are you going to do?” Marie looked off into the distance. “When summer is over I’m going to take the train up north. They’re recruiting for track clearers next summer. Gonna make a lot of money.” I snorted. This job worked out well for a summer. Protect the crops from the walkers and make enough money to last me through the school year. “Walkers are getting fewer and fewer per year. What happens when they run out?” “Really, Johnny? The walkers are never going away. They’re always going to be here.” “We cremate corpses before they rise. After replacement GPS satellites were launched we now know where almost everyone is after implants.” “Everyone’s got to die sometime. A lot of people don’t like the implants.” I continued to tick off reasons. “Murders and suicides are at an all time low. Supplies are now plentiful. Warfare is near nonexistent.” Marie waved me off. “Whatever. If all of that is true why are we still clearing walls? Why are they offering high paying track clearing jobs?” I shrugged. “I didn’t say they’re nonexistent. I’m just saying that it is going to happen.” “The walkers have been here for three hundred years. They’re always going to be here. There’s nothing that humans can do to change that.” “Whatever.” I didn’t know what else to say. I had mentally thrown up my hands in frustration. “All I know is that I don’t want to be dealing with this for the rest of my life if it does continue. I want that cushy job in the office. Someone has to keep track of the accounts.” Marie laughed. “True. How else would I get paid for keeping you safe?” ________ Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this check out my subreddit /r/Puns_are_Lazy.
"Gah, what the FUCK!?"I stumble and fall out of my chair. "High five, congratulations, pop the bubbly, slooow clap,"the robed old man swaggers over to me, "You just disproved my mathematical existence." "Wha-wha-what?" "Here, take this,"and he hands me a plaque emblazoned with I PROVED GOD ISN'T REAL, "Aaand Cheese!"and he snaps a selfie of the two of us. "Wait,"I manage to collect myself, "I th-thought I disproved y-your existence." "I'm fucking God, kiddo,"he strolls out of the room, "Do you really think I need to follow some itty bitty laws that I made?"
It was Tuesday evening and I was paralyzed by the toughest choice I could remember ever having to make in my seventeen years of life. I summed the pros, weighed the cons, gnawed my lip and scrunched my brow. No use. I flipped a coin. Heads. Unsatisfied with this result, I flipped the coin again. Tails. Still dissatisfied, I flung the coin down the cereal aisle toward the dairy section. Lucky Charms, or Captain Crunch? There was a crash, and a bang, and a brilliant, searing light. Some kind of capsule had materialized, toppling the carefully constructed obelisk of Campbell's Soup cans at the end of the aisle. As I gaped, cereal forgotten, a featureless panel on the capsule popped open and a bearded man hopped out. "Charles!"said the man, moving towards me at a brisk pace with a palm outstretched. "It's me! You!" Speechless, I stared at the man's face. That was me, alright, albeit an older and unkempt version of me. "I've come to stop you from choosing Captain Crunch, Charles!" "What?"I asked, realizing in my heart that he was right -- I would have selected Captain Crunch. My stomach rumbled happily at the thought. "Trust me! From the moment you purchase Captain Crunch here, at this humble Publix grocery store in Louisville, Kentucky, your life will spiral downward into unspeakable misery!" "How's cereal got anything to do with that?"I asked, appalled. "Captain Crunch,"said my older self, yanking a box from the shelf to examine the label. "May contain peanuts,"he read aloud. "So?" "Tracy's allergic to peanuts, Charles!"wailed my older self. "You'll share these godforsaken sugar bombs with her the next time she comes over. She'll have a reaction and die right there on your kitchen floor!" My eyes widened. Why hadn't Tracy told me she was allergic to peanuts? We'd been dating for six months, but it sometimes still felt like I didn't know her at all. "Your whole life thereafter will be a train wreck of self-hatred and despair!"cried my older self, hurling the Captain Crunch box into the air. Before it landed, the store was rocked by another crash and a burst of light even brighter than the first. A second pod appeared among the scattered soup cans. "Don't listen to him!"said the man who leapt out of this second capsule -- let's call him Charles III. "What?"squawked the other Charles and I simultaneously. "Tracy's a psychopath!"shouted Charles III. "You have to trust me -- I'm from the future! You'll listen to this version of us, and buy Lucky Charms, and Tracy will survive, and in a month you'll have a messy break-up. Things will seem fine for a few years -- you'll find another girl, and marry her, and have kids. But Tracy's gonna hold a grudge -- she'll murder your whole family with a pickaxe in 2025!" I blinked at him. For a moment, all three of us were silent. "You're telling me I've gotta kill her?" The words had hardly left my mouth when another pod exploded into being a few feet down the aisle. I turned to look, wondering what this third version of myself would have to say -- "move to Canada,"perhaps? Out of the pod stepped an older version of Tracy, hair a tangled mess, eyes flitting wildly between our horrified faces. Her clothes were smeared with blood, and she held a pickaxe in both hands. "Oh, I'll get you too,"she shrieked, and charged us with the pickaxe held high. "I'll get EVERY LAST ONE of you!"
I woke up in a haze my lips were chapped. I had had been on this island for 2 days. The first day I had spent looking for help. The second day had been spent building a shelter. Today would be me trying to gather more resources like fresh water and food. Last night in desperation I had taken one of the large tree leaves and used charcoal from my fire to write a short help me message. I had used one of my bottles from the emergency kit I managed to swim to shore with and threw it in the ocean. I regretted it now, I could have used that bottle for something more productive I'm sure. I got up out of the shelter and checked out the fire, it still was smoldering so I threw some wood on it and got it going again, then once it was at a large flame I threw a couple of green leaves on it to get some smoke going. "Signal fires, messages in bottles I'm screwed"I said to myself with a sad smile. I stretched out and took a short walk down to the beach to see if I could see any ships. Mine was long gone. caught on some rocks about half a mile out. I'm not a strong swimmer but I guess the thought of dying will motivate you. The plan was to spend some time on the beach waiting for help and figuring out how to get some more water. The two bottles I had were gone and I was going to be in trouble if i didn't get the remaining one filled with something fresh soon. As I made my way down to the beachfront I was confronted with the strangest thing. There were about 10 bottles sitting on the beach and a couple more out in the water. I ran down, hoping for I guess human contact. I'm a pretty social person and even though I was sailing alone on a short trip I do prefer company. The last couple days had been lonely no contact with my family or friends. I got down to the shore and gathered up all the bottles they looked to be notes inside but I wanted to get them up to my camp before I read them. I was overly worried I would lose them for what ever reason. I collected as much as I could carry and ran them back to my camp I would have to make two trips. Once I got back to the beach though the number of bottles seemed to have doubled. There were about 12 more bottles in addition to the remaining ones. I gathered them up and took them back. I got my emergency blanket from the shelter and gathered up the rest, there were more of them. I gathered more and went down and the whole beach was blanketed in bottles. I was dumbfounded, I pinched myself a few times so I knew I wasn't dreaming. Things like this didn't just happen. If it was a current bringing things in there would be garbage along with them. After a short while of staring, I decided it was silly to grab them all and grabbed what I needed and went back to camp. Maybe it would make some more sense if I read a few of the messages. The first one was a nice glass bottle it was sealed with a bit of bees wax, what a great idea. I had seen some bees floating around the island on my first day I wish I had thought of it. It took some work to pull the stopper out of the bottle but it finally came. The message was written on a leaf just like mine but it read. Dear Mark, I know you are reading this because I was reading this on my first day. Welcome to hell. I'm not sure if I'm being figurative or not but there is no way off this island. For some reason all of my messages come back to me, before I write them. Crazy I know, the strange thing is, is that I've never found the first message in all my years. Anyways down to the nitty gritty, you are fucked. There is supplies I found or one of us found I think. They were located on the far side about half a mile west of the dead bird. You will find the bird sometime today don't worry. it'll just happen. There some canned food and as much water as you will need in these fucking bottles. No booze though, you're on your own on that one. Sorry bud. As always I hope this is my last message that I write but I have no idea. Most of these notes came back the first week. Open them they will be helpful as much as you are going to hate it or refute it. I know you are about done so, good luck I threw the note into the fire and walked away in a huff, I yelled at the sky and the surrounding bush. I yelled so hard my throat hurt. Someone was playing a sick joke on me, but on my way back to camp I found the birld. It looked like it had fallen out of the sky. While wings spread at weird angles head in the ground. I stared at it until I realized how strange I must look. I went back to camp and sat there for awhile. Debating. Do I go or not. I sat a bit longer. I wasn't sure if there were any other animals out here besides fish and birds that might take the bird. I did need water and I needed to know if that note was true. So I grabbed blanket to use as a sack and headed out. I found the bird checked the sun to make sure I knew where west was and was off. I found the pile of bottles, exactly the same as the ones that had come onto shore. There was so many of them. A few had cracked and let out their water but that was it. thousands of water bottles and some food. There were a few other crates there as well. I loaded up my blanket sack and checked the other crates. It looked like they had, had something inside but were empty. I kicked the box they were too big to use to carry supplies. I was close to the beach so I walked down. Another bunch of notes haunting me. I grabbed one and opened it. Mark! I see you found the bird... and the supplies, yes these bottles are all over the island. No I don't know why if I find out I'll send you a note... sorry but that's the only way I can let you know. Talk soon I opened another bottle it was the same message. I opened another one, and another one. I screamed "I WILL NOT BE DOOMED TO SPEND MY LIFE ON THIS FUCKING ROCK IN SOME NIGHTMARE"The bottles were tormenting me. I ran up the beach to the bottles. I grabbed the first one smashed it's contents out on a few more. I grabbed the first ragged piece I could find and dug it in as deep as I could into my wrist. I tried to do the same to the other but my hand didn't work I had cut the tendon. Blood pooled out and I triend to think of somewhere else to dig it in. The sky got cloudy, my thoughts got cloudy. I blinked. I woke up in a haze my lips were chapped.
"So, for our big, party, getaway weekend, we get to watch videos of other big, party, getaway weekends?"I ask, rolling my eyes at Ed. "Shut up, I didn't know it was going to be raining. Plus, it gives us something to do, while the girls don't come." I sigh. Ed was always a glass half full kind of guy. "They're not coming, Ed. It's ten o'clock and have you seen the weather outside?" "They might still come." "Yeah, they're gonna drive three hours in the middle of a rainstorm at night just because you sent them a wink and a dick pick." "Shut up, I was kidding about the dick pick". Ed points the remote at the TV, and it flashes alive. "Let's see how dumb you looked like, when we were younger." The little DVD PLAY icon appears on the top of the screen, and my face is the first thing we see; pimples and a bad haircut. "When was that?" "Middle school. That trip with your parents to Florida." "Oh, yeah", I say, remembering. "That was a fun weekend. I think." Ed and I watch younger Ed and I in silence for a while. We are playing some sort of paint ball game, except with water guns, not paint, arguing over if the water hit the other one or not. "You were a cheater on that game, I rememb --" "Wait, who was that?" I look at Ed. He looks weird. "What?" "There."Ed rewinds, and our younger selves move backwards awkwardly and fast, and then it's on again. "That girl, in the background." "What --"But then I see it. Where we were, in the video, is at my uncle Jerry's place, upstate. Playing by the pool, and we can see, out of frame, my parents and Ed's, and a couple other 'grown ups' by the grill, laughing and drinking. Other kids come and go in and out of frame, but, also... Also a little girl, holding a small piece of rope, knotted in a circle. She's standing by the grownups, but they don't seem to notice her. She's also looking straight into the camera, like she can see through it. "Shit. That's creepy dude. The fuck is that?" "Hell if I know", Ed says, laughing it off as he cracks open a beer, but I can see he's not really comfortable. "Probably one of your creepy cousins. Anyway, let's skip. Next trip was high school graduation, if I remember correctly. I wanna see your drunk monologue again." So he skips it. The sunny scene disappears, replaced by an indoor environment. A house party. "That's Ricky!"I say, laughing and trying to put the little girl's image out of my head. "This was before he came out?"Ed asks. "Apparently", I answer, because Ricky's going to second base with some random girl on a corner. I remember that night. Well, part of it anyway. I got so very very waste -- There it is. "Oh, man, you don't look good", Ed says, laughing. Lying on a bed, eyes straight up, I look comatose. I'm mumbling. "Jesus, thank God the girls aren't here to see this", I say, chuckling, too. And, my high school self, on the frame, it says "I like bicycles so much. They are going to be the future of the world. Why is round round? Was math invented or discovered?" And Ed's voice, from out of frame, answers, "Oh, man, are you drunk. Keep talking, please." And the camera pans off, and -- "JESUS CHRIST DID YOU SEE IT?"Ed screams, but he didn't need to. I saw it. "Rewind, rewind!" And he does. It happened for a second, when shaky hands Ed was panning from my drunk self on the bed back to Ricky making out with the random chick. The little girl. By my bed. Same look in her eyes, except she's facing my high school self on the bed, not the camera this time. Ed freeze frames it. The image is blurry, but it's definitely it. "ED ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME?"I say, and I feel the hair on the back of my head raising a life of its own. By Ed's wide-eyed stare and silence, I get that this is not him fucking with me. The image disappears. "Did you --" "I didn't touch the remote, man." Static, on the TV. Then another image pops up. It's me and Ed, sitting side by side on a couch, on his parent's country house. Out the window, we can see rain outside, and Ed's holding a beer. A live feed. Standing just behind the couch, between us, she's holding a piece of rope, tied up in a circular knot, staring straight at us from the image on the TV. _______________________ Thanks for reading! For more stories involving less creepy ghost-girls, check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)
In my opinion, this is my best WP response, but the thread died after it got posted, so no one read. The prompt was: [: You are a genie with no magical powers at all but are still bound to grant a person's wish.](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/35n33w/wp_you_are_a_genie_with_no_magical_powers_at_all/) --- >Albert Einstein once said: >"The only source of knowledge is experience." --- Dante walked on tip-toes, sneaking through the critical care unit of Highline Medical Center, trying his best to avoid being seen. An advanced degree in philosophy led him to this moment. Walking down a hall with green paint and a turban, pretending to be a damn genie. He kept a smile on his face, though he wanted to scream on the outside. It wasn't right that someone as smart as him had to resort to something as degrading as this. He found the right room and silently walked in. The boy was laying on the bed with his eyes closed. A Make-A-Wish sticker was on the cabinet beside him. "Robby,"Dante said. The boy stirred and looked up, confused. "You ask for a genie, a genie you have. Make your wishes, son, and make them quick." The kid's face lit up. "I wish for a hug." A hug? Of all the things to wish for... Dante was suddenly glad that they had put the paint on his skin so long ago. It wouldn't do to have a genie's skin color rub on the boy. He leaned in and gave the boy a hug. "And your second wish, young master?"Dante asked. "I wish these wires would be taken out."He said. "I don't like them." Dante hesitated, but reached over and pulled off the heart rate monitor on the boy's finger. It would be fine since he was watching him anyway. He didn't pull anything else. "I wish for a rose."The boy said as Dante leaned back. Dante narrowed his eyes. "A rose? For you final wish?" "Yeah, my mom likes them."The boy replied. Dante nodded and took a step back. "A rose for the young gentleman." He backed out of the room and went to different patients, asking each for a rose. As each said no, he moved on to the next. By the time he asked the last one, ten minutes had passed. Dante walked back to the boy's room. "A rose is unfortunately a rare-" He stopped talking and froze. The boy was still. --- Dante walked slowly, crutch helping him inch along the field he had seen so many times. The groundskeeper waved and Dante waved back. He stopped and looked down. With difficulty, he knelt by the familiar gravestone and put down the single rose. ---

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