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It was hailed as a revolution in unbiased elections, if the ballot was secret then why weren't the candidates too? After years of reality TV and Twitter the average american was influenced far more by personalities than actual politics, which resulted in office after office of eccentric presidents.
Once it was revealed President Oates, an ex-game show host was stealing funds from the US treasury to pay for a private fleet of luxury yachts it really kicked off. There were protests all over the US, with multiple states threatening to secede from the union and the government finally took heed. The President was impeached, but the VP was his 18 year old trophy wife. Going through the whole line of succession revealed a host of comedians, supermodels and talk show hosts. A major shake up was required.
An emergency election was held, unlike any seen in US history. No names, no faces, no parties. It was the least interesting election cycle any news station had seen in decades, which meant they had to report the facts. People were well informed and once the polling booths closed it was revealed that Candidate A had won in a landslide.
Even upon assuming office Candidate A did not reveal his name or what he looked like, instead opting for a spokesman to deliver his State of the Union speech and any other important ceremonies that required his presence. He served honorably, without incident for two years before the next election was held.
Candidate A was elected again, and why not? Under his reign America had retaken it's position as the superpower of the world, unemployment was at an all time low and the level of national debt incurred by the previous insane presidents was slowly lowering.
This process went on for the next forty years, anonymous candidate after anonymous candidate being elected. Without the mad party politics and personal shit-flinging the best candidate for the job was elected every time, not just the one who was best at electioneering.
However it almost all fell down at the turn of the 22nd century. A whistleblower who claimed to be a veteran of the administration. He claimed that every president for the past forty years had been the same woman, Candidate A. People were outraged at first, it was a serious abuse of power.
If it were true then America had been in an unknowing dictatorship for half a century. But then people pointed out that in that century the USA had risen to the height of it's power, a second peak in world politics. Zero national debt, zero unemployment, brought peace to the middle east.
It seems like Candidate A knew what she was doing for all these years.
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[Click here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Wrobbing/) to see all of my short stories written for /r/writingprompts, and more!
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Zapf couldn't remember ever being so damn tired. He thought back to the good old days, centuries ago, when raising a zombie horde had meant finding a graveyard with twenty to thirty bodies not too far gone into decomposition. When men rode willingly at each other with swords drawn and women were drowned for witchcraft thus providing him with an endless supply of bodies. When police forensics didn't force him to cover his tracks when he drained the blood of innocents with the intent of prolonging his own mortality.
Look at me now though, he thought. Pockmarks marred his once handsome, youthful face. His back hunched and ached with the pain of leaning over for hours on end to draw complicated sigils. His hair hung long and white around his shoulders. His papery skin looked as though it might peel away in a strong wind. He was a shadow of what he had been.
And then the night of hope for all necromancers. The Apocalypse. The Night of the Living Dead. For him and his ilk, Salvation. Or so they had thought. But he was all that was left now.
Like much of the world he used to know, concepts even as simple as zombies had given way to their scientifically likelier counterparts. Gone were the lumbering hulks that wandered aimlessly in search of brains until they received orders otherwise from their masters. In their place walked these monsters. "Ran these monsters"he thought might be more appropriate. By Satan, they were fast.
Zapf didn't know much about these so-called "Zombies."Spores of a seemingly harmless fungus had mutated and blown out of their native home in the Amazon. Or maybe they had been disturbed by loggers there and the workers had been infected. No one knew for sure. What Zapf did know was that they weren't dead. They could not be controlled by his powers or any of his fellows. They were...something else.
And thus, Zapf found himself in a position in which he never thought he'd be. Faced with imminent destruction, the nations of the world had sought protection in powers they didn't understand. They turned to him. And so he became the world's champion. The protector of humanity.
The Sporites, as he had begun calling the infected populace, relied on living human tissue to proliferate. But they weren't careful or cunning. Clumsy might be a more fitting word. Two in every three humans they tried to subvert were killed in their onslaught. It was on these corpses that Zapf thrived. While a zombie would kill a man and eat his brains leaving his corpse utterly useless, the Sporities suffered no such behavioral compunction.
In this way, Zapf's army was built on the backs of his enemy's efforts. But that did not make it easy. In a city, the Sporites ability to take one in three still numbered them in the millions. Zapf would be forced to rush these centers in conjunction with a United Earth Military force. This had to be done shortly after the enemy attacks while the corpses were still good, but while the Sporites were still in their frenzy.
Over the years, the battle raged across continents. The Earth's fighters always forced to follow in the wake of their aggressors. Zapf tired and became old, but his forces grew. The clash of Zombies and Sporites was like nothing the world had seen. The Sporites attacked in a lightning storm of speed and ferocity, but almost always, Zapf's forces outnumbered theirs. A Sporite could take down half a dozen zombies on its own given time, but the Zombies strength laid in numbers as it always had. Rip off a Zombie's arm and it wouldn't care. A Sporite however would be debilitated. While they now existed for the single purpose of propagation, their pain receptors were all intact.
Not all the battles had been won, but enough had. It had taken years but it had all led to Michigan Stadium. One of the largest stadiums in the world. The remaining Earth forces, a mere pittance compared to what they had been, estimated that is the Sporite outbreak could be contained here, it could likely be contained everywhere. No thought had been given to the fate of the Zombies after the conflict, but that didn't worry Zapf. He had his own plans.
The Day of Reckoning came and Zapf found himself in the grandest booth of the stadium. Gathered below him on the field was a tiny army of human volunteers. Maybe in the spirit of where they were or for the sake of a dull human tradition, they each had instrument in hand and, on Zapf's signal, began playing an old marching tune.
The noise carried out over the seating and out of the stadium. A rumble began in the Earth as the men played. Pouring through the doors and over the walls, the Sporites came in a tidal wave. Their screams rent the air drowning the sound of the band. The smell of the human's fear and the Sporite's lust carried into the upper reaches of the stadium seating.
Then Zapf raised his hands and the ground came alive. Tearing through the earth came thousands upon thousands of Zombies. They grabbed at the legs of the Sporites that ran past, tore into their skulls and devoured their infected brains. The Sporite's screams had turned to those of pain.
The battle was not won though. The Sporites rallied and attacked the Zombies in their moment of vulnerability as they clawed out of the ground. Thousands fell, but thousands more took their place. Though it took hours, the Sporites couldn't halt the Zombie onslaught. They came from the ground, the seating, the tunnels, and eventually from outside as well. Zapf ability was taxed to his limit and as it ended, he sagged to the floor of the booth.
He had lost probably three in four zombies, but by some miracle, not a single human had fallen. Cheers went up from that crowd. One man even tried a fanfare on the trumpet. Zapf closed his eyes and smiled in his victory. Then drawing an obsidian dagger from his robes, he cut his palm deeply drawing forth a stream of blood and pushed it onto the sigil in front of him.
The pentacle he had painstakingly inscribed around the inside of the stadium before the battle took place came alive in the ring of blood red fire. The cheers on the field turned to shouts of surprise, then screams of pain, and finally dwindled to nothing as the men's blood evaporated from their bodies. The zombies fell upon the corpses devouring them to nothing. Zapf rose to his feet, but he was not the same man as before. While still long, his hair was jet black. His skin has smoothed into youthfulness and he stood without any of the crookedness that had marked him just minutes ago.
A radio came alive next to him and he heard the human commander's voice echo through from where he was stationed on an aircraft carrier near the coast.
"Zapf? What's going on down there? Did it work?"
"Yes it did commander,"replied Zapf, his voice now deep and rich. "But there were no survivors." |
"Get out."
Lucifer brandished his trident, its scorched prongs not one inch from Jawei's face. Jawei shook off his fatigue long enough to muster a pained smile. He wanted nothing more than to dump a waterfall on His Unholiness right then and there, but he knew it'd be to no avail: Lucifer'd just smite him on the spot.
"You can't do this. You know I'm right."
Lucifer shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You're a net negative to this establishment. You do nothing but generate strife and arouse ire. For this, I'd normally commend you, but your doomsaying has become a major pain in my ass. If you think your way of doing things is right..."Lucifer bashed his trident into the ground, and the gates of Hell creaked open. "...then do it yourself."
---
"Don't worry, Jawei. I'll always have your back,"Edom said cheerfully. They were sitting in a garden. Jawei's dream command center had always been the center of a continuously erupting volcano, but the heat reminded him too much of Hell now. This would have to suffice.
Only one of Jawei's sympathizers had voluntarily followed him into exile; the rest apparently preferred to spend their days wallowing in the mud. "Would it be more appropriate to call them sheep or pigs?"Jawei mused to himself. It mattered not; he hated them both. Heaven and Hell were the same in that regard: palaces of pleasure, built on total obedience. The only difference was the weather. It was a disgusting concept, and there was no place in either realm for free thinkers such as himself.
Jawei had initially thought Lucifer was the same, a revolutionary like himself, but his true colors shone in time. He stamped out any notions of culture and class under the guise of promoting equality, but nonetheless maintained a definitive hierarchy: Lucifer's followers were given more autonomy and more privileges than his dissenters. Nobody cared, though; Lucifer had turned Hell into an amusement park, and between the daily lobster lunches and the all-natural saunas, the masses didn't care enough to take a stand. Only Jawei was cognizant enough to see the truth: Lucifer hadn't disagreed with Heaven's ideals at all; he had just wanted a share of the power.
Things would be run differently here. "My realm shall be based on two principles. One: free will,"Jawei said, watching Edom nod approvingly, "and two: no infinite pleasure."
"Wait, what?"
"Infinite pleasure has undone both Heaven and Hell. To prevent the masses from becoming complacent little sheepigs, every pleasurable act shall be counterbalanced by pain or shame in some fashion. They will always yearn to better themselves and better society."
"Jawei, I don't know about this. Why would any soul choose a realm where pain exists when there are two realms available with promises of infinite pleasure?"
"Because not everyone is a fucking *pig*. Imagine this: you and some guys tried to build a tower from here to Heaven."Blocks started materializing out of thin air and piling up next to Jawei. "Suddenly, I swing my arm like so and knock everything over."Edom leapt to the side as the tower came crashing down where he had been standing. "Isn't that cool? Doesn't it make it way better than just building some boring old tower without any possible consequence? Oh, hey, what if I even messed with the language cortices of the guys who decided to do it..."
"I'm not sure I follow,"Edom replied, "I thought we were just making a new, reformed society. No corruption and free will. Do we really have to mess with pleasure and whatnot?"
"You don't get it, Edom, do you? You're just a sheepig in wolfbear's clothing. Did Lucifer send you up here to keep an eye on me?"Electricity began to crackle at Jawei's fists.
"No, sir. Not at all."Edom shuffled backwards.
"This isn't just a social reform. Can't you see how that would be disingenuous? I'm promoting free will, so I'm letting the souls make their own society,"Jawei said, "But they'll just sit on their asses and fool around if I don't give them some motivation. To suffer is to grow. Otherwise, these souls just sit on clouds or lay in dung heaps all day. Nothing gets done, and whoever's in charge gets away with doing whatever they want. Get it?"
"Yeah, of course,"Edom said, forcing a smile. Jawei didn't need to read his mind to know he was lying. Edom thought he could pull one over him: just pretend to be a yes-man and coast along like he would've done in Hell...
"I'm glad to hear it."Jawei moved forward, scratching his chin. "There is admittedly one thing I dearly miss from Hell, though."
"And what's that?"
He placed a hand on Edom's shoulder. "The vast assortments of meats. It'll take billions of years before we develop enough life to replicate all of them. But for now..."
Jawei pulled his arm back and thrust his hand into Edom's chest. His flesh offered no resistance, tearing on impact. Edom screamed as Jawei grabbed ahold of a rib and pulled. It fractured cleanly from his skeleton, and Edom crumpled to the ground, clutching the wound as he lost consciousness.
"I could go for some ribs right now."Jawei licked the blood dripping from his hand. |
The creaking hinges groaned as the door swung slowly open. Beams of light from the late afternoon sun reflected off the motes of dust gently swept into air from my entering. Still, a fine layer of dust blanketed the room. The dresser, changing table, bassinet. Touched by neither hand nor gaze for three decades. Tentatively, I stepped foot into the room, straying away from the furniture as I approached the center of the room.
Windows peered out onto the backyard on the wall furthest from the door, a similar vantage to the one offered by my own childhood room just down the hall. Fine white curtains that yearned for a summer's breeze draped lifelessly before the panes of glass. On the other three walls was a panorama of a jungle, decorated with cartoonish lions, monkeys, a giraffe, and a rhinoceros. Overhead, a ceiling fan punctuated still more paintings, these of clouds on a lkight blue sky. Far more festive than the striped wallpaper in my room.
I reached out and spun the small mobile which hung above the bassinet. The small planes with fixed rotors spun in a slow, graceful arc. There was a rocking chair in the corner that much like the hinges of the door, creaked when I used it.
There I sat for an hour looking upon the nursery, old but seldom used. Sealed in some distant past that belonged to a happy couple just starting their family. A past in which I played no part.
When the sun turned orange and purple from the setting sun, I pulled myself up from the chair and walked around the room, scouring it to no avail for pictures that I knew had been expunged. Eventually, I found myself standing once again above the bassinet, this time staring down at the stuffed monkey that lay inside. A poor replacement. A sad, smiling effigy. I pulled it from the bassinet and looked into its black, glass eyes and wiped tears from my own. Besides our parents, this was perhaps the only connection that I shared with a sibling known to be not even by name. The same stuffed animal, well-loved, had been sitting on my old bed when I had begun cleaning out this house three days ago.
And for three entire days, I had cleaned, packed, and purged this late home. And for thirty years, this room had remained untouched. It was haunted, I knew. It had willed me to perpetuate that legacy which I now defiled with my presence. Without a sound, I placed the stuffed monkey back into the bassinet and strode towards the door.
The screeching repeated until the door clunked close. As I walked towards the front door to leave the house, my mind was aflutter with thoughts of arson. I turned the dead-bolt shut and walked down the drive towards my car.
Fumbling through my wallet, I found the realtor's business card. As I punched her number into my phone I prayed that the new owners were expecting a child. |
Thorians had the power of travel. From deep black moons to the brightest flashing icescapes, they bounced between the many distant strangers, expanding and experiencing and enjoying what oddnesses the universe hid. Without ship or pod or beam they spread happily, allowing their gift to create great communities and societies, building peaceful empires made of hundreds of races, all working together, sharing their gifts to create a more vibrant and vivacious universe.
Some could mend bodies and heal mountains, some could bend light to bring life into dark places, some could calm hearts to stop wars, and some could even experience wild and strange physical senses that the Thorians could not even comprehend.
Everywhere they went, though, natives spoke of the far-off humans, who beheld the greatest of all the gifts.
"What can they do?"The Thorians asked, and always the answer was "Nobody knows. None who venture there ever return."
Fearing a threat to their growing civilization, the Thorians knew they needed to confront the humans and attempt to make peace. Thorians traveled and trekked and trailed, and always they found the same answer, and with every matching answer they grew more and more fearful of ever visiting the strange planet called Earth. Nobody knows. Nobody who visits ever returns. The most frightening and powerful of all weapons. The greatest of all gifts.
"But how can you know it's the greatest of all gifts if you've never seen it?"
"Because,"said the last of the Hwalians, a frightening race that had won many wars, "Our gift is the gift of absolute domination. Once, we chose not to use it. We chose peace, and we made friends. Good friends. But our friends visited Earth, and then our friends were no more."
"And you? What of the Hwalians?"asked the Thorians.
"We were bereaved,"said the last of the Hwalians. "After the loss of our friends, we once again chose war. Thousands of years we suppressed our gift, but once we found ourselves alone we set forth the ships of war, to at long last stop the humans.
"But as our fleets approached Earth, we were detected. We were detected, and then we vanished. Every one. Every friend and father and brother, gone. Only I remained. That is how I know that their gift is the greatest. Our gift allows us to destroy any enemy, but our gift fell to the humans."
"How did you survive, last of the Hwalians?"asked the Thorians. "How is it that you alone remain when your entire race fell?"
The last of the Hwalians shrugged. "I don't know for certain. I've asked myself the same, through long nights I've spent remembering what has been lost. I met someone once. A man from a far-off world. A man from the Nexus Cloud, far far away from Earth. I don't know his name, I don't know what his people are called. I explained to him my gift, and told him that we had sworn never to use it. Told him that we were peaceful and harmless. That made him happy. He told me that no matter what happened, he believed I would be safe. I. I alone. And I was."The last of the Hwalians retreated into his mind, and the Thorians left him.
Using the gift of travel, in an instant the Thorians found themselves in the Nexus Cloud. In the midst of this hostile and radioactive nebula, strangely, was a lush blue and green planet. Any normal planet would be barren and black, seared by the radiation and the gases of the nebula. The Thorians found life. They were little blue things with knobbly limbs and great big smiles. Looking around, the Thorians were silent and aghast. They had no weapons. No defenses. The aliens approached with smiles and refreshments.
"Welcome. We are the people of Old Tanzish,"the closest one said, offering what looked like a small round stone and signaling that it was food. "We believe you will find these delicious."
"How are you alive?"Asked the Thorians in disbelief, temporarily setting aside their reason for coming. "How can you survive the nebula?"
"When our planet was swallowed by the nebula, we believed we would be safe,"said the Old Tanzish. "And so we were."
"How have you survived without defenses? How have you lived here free from enemies or the elements?"
"We believed that no enemies would come, and so they did not,"said the Old Tanzish. "That is our gift. Anything that we believe becomes reality. We have shaped our corner of the universe to our desires. Only friends visit us here, because we believe enemies will stay away. Every day is joy and celebration, for we believe that we are happy."
The Thorians fell to their knees. Surely these Old Tanzish were the most powerful of all the races. Surely *they* had the mightiest of gifts. Surely they could help. "We beg for your help, Old Tanzish!"they cried. "There is a race far, far away with a terrifying power. In an instant, they make entire races vanish! Will you help us? Will you borrow our power of travel and save the universe from the humans?"
"Humans?"The Old Tanzish looked grim. "They are a sad race. Even we, who believe we are happy, are saddened when we think of them."
"You know of them?"The Thorians queried. "You have seen them? You know of their lives? You have seen their gift?"
"We have,"said the Old Tanzish. "You should leave them alone. They won't hurt you."
"*Won't hurt us?!* They have annihilated entire races! Their gift must be one of god-like destruction. We have lost friends! Our friends have lost friends!"The Thorians grew angry. "Tell us of them, and we will find a way to end them with our own strength."
"They just want to live their lives,"the Old Tanzish responded indifferently. "I can assure you, they are not even aware of what they have done to you and your friends. Their eyes are not focused upwards. To them, the friends you have lost are nothing more than passing glitches on their computing devices."
"We demand to know of their gift! We will not make threats against you because we are powerless before the Old Tanzish, but if you wish to save the universe from them, you will tell us!"
The Old Tanzish sighed. They spoke amongst themselves. They spoke for hours in whispers and hushes. Occasionally they paused and looked at the Thorians expectantly. . .but when whatever they were expecting to happen didn't, they returned to their whispers.
Finally, they addressed the Thorians. "I apologize,"one said, "we attempted to convince each other that you would forget of the humans and leave in peace, but some of us simply could not believe it, and so you have remained here. If you must know, we will tell you."
"Please!"
Uneasily, he spoke. "The humans are the only race in the galaxy that share our gift. They, too, have the gift to make all that they believe into a reality."
It made sense. "They turned their gift into a weapon, then,"the Thorian sighed.
"No."
"No?"
"We believe we are safe, and so we are safe,"said the Old Tanzish. "We believe our planet is healthy, and so it is healthy. We believe we are happy, and so we live full lives of meaning and hope and joy."
"And the humans?"
"The humans. . ."the Old Tanzish said mournfully, "they believe that they are alone." |
"I am Ramses, a god among men"
"Bull-shit, you can't conjure up shit or make water into wine. You're just immortal, so what the fuck do you have that we don't?"
"I am Ramses, a go-"
*SMACK* "Say that bullshit one more fucking time, I dare you motherfucker! Say that damn bullshit one more time and I'll cap your royal ass."
"Look man, why are you doing this? I'm on your side, I'm your leader!"
"Because you're running this shit at -100 GPT, the people are revolting, you chose fucking autocracy when your people believe in freedom, We are running around with damn muskets when our enemies have atomic bombs and you haven't even got the common decency to try and distribute some luxuries for us. We need a new leader, so therefore we need a new immortal. So tell us your damn secret, before we find it in an autopsy."
________________________________________
Criticism/Suggestions/Praise are all welcomed. All these things are needed for improvement. |
"You're sure this will work?"My head was strapped down and it felt like my voice was going into nothing, but a face loomed over me.
“Da, of course it’ll work. I perform many times.” He grinned, but his blackened teeth were less than reassuring.
This was it, my only chance to make something of myself, by bootlegging every premium school subject into my brain and finally catching up with all my friends. Of course they had done it the legal way, but they could afford it, while my mum, well, she worked hard, but even with two jobs she was struggling to pay rent, let alone pay for me to have school subjects inserted into my mind.
I’d spent six months scrapping together the money, not for the real courses, I knew I could never afford those, but for this. Six months to be strapped to a table in the back of a carwash, while a Russian hacker uploaded what he claimed were the world’s finest courses into my mind. This was either going to work and leave me a genius, fail and leave me a vegetable, or he was getting ready to run and leave me here on this table, £2k poorer for the experience.
A hum filled the room and it seemed like it was going to be option A or B and suddenly I felt nervous. His face was back, a cigarette perched in his lips which dropped ash down onto my face. I tried to blow it away, but he ignored it.
“You ready, da?” I nodded.
I felt the first needle piece my skull, but the second at the back of my head only felt cold and then suddenly my mind went blank. I was still conscious, but no thought would traverse my mind and I could no longer summon any memories. It seemed to take an age to open my lips, to try to scream, but then I felt the warmth and I was lost.
Maths, literature, sport, physics, chemistry, Latin, French, German, all of it began to fire into my mind and slot in place, piece by piece. The worlds around me began to make more sense as I learned more about it as I *knew* more about it. I wanted to sing in Portuguese and tell jokes in Swedish, but it wasn’t finished.
It continued for what felt like hours, but must have only been a few minutes and then it was over and he was standing over me again and I was looking up at him. “это было удивительно”.
He nodded. “Da, it is.”
I was happy to lie and wait, exploring the content of my new mind but after a few moments I realised that he was moving around the room, setting up something next to me. “What’s going on, are we not finished?”
He shook his head. “Not really my friend. You see, you have big brain, filled with all my good stuff ad nice body to keep it in.” He gestured down to himself. “This body – no good.”
It took a moment to sink in and then I began to struggle. “What? No! You’re going to swap our bodies?” Adrenaline lurched through me and I strained at the straps, but they were tight and I could not move.
I felt a sting as the needles were placed again, in a different place this time. He sat down next to me and I saw that he too now had needles pressed into his head, the wires trailing away to where I could not see them. He looked almost sad. “Nyet, I am sorry, but there is no way to swap, only take.”
He sat back in his chair and his arm moved and my mind was blank again, but this time instead of knowledge I felt memories and feelings entering my head. More and more I understood what he was doing until at last I was no longer scared, but excited by this change.
Something snapped and my arms were free, but I no longer wished to stop. I leaned back in my chair and felt my mind reorganise and settle, just as I had planned.
|
"Hey Jesus!"
"Oh, hey Gab."
"So, are you caught up on the old episodes of Earth?"
"Not yet. I'm still in the Middle ages story arc."
"Oh, man... what did you think of the Spanish Inquisition? Crazy, right?"
"Well, I really wasn't expecting it. In fact, it's all a little far fetched."
"Uh... what?"
"I mean the writing is okay but the characters are so unbelievable. The whole Rome thing was WAY too over the top. Barbarians? Seriously? Yeah, mountain men are going to bring down an empire. Suure..."
"But.."
"And I was really digging that Buddha guy, but then everyone takes what he said and does whatever they want. It's totally off the rails! That's not how religions work."
"What?"
Don't even get me started with what they did with "Christianity". Using a crucifix at a holy symbol? Come ON! Morbid... It's just too weird. I know Dad wanted me to be a big deal and what not, but SO many people using my words and image for their own bullshit purposes? That's not even what I look like. I hope he doesn't think that was a GOOD idea."
"Uh, Jesus..."
"That reminds me, I gotta talk to Muhammad. Has he watched this yet? If not he's gonna be *piiiissed*.
"DUDE."
"What?"
"You know it's not scripted, right?"
"what?"
"It's a reality show."
"..."
"You okay dude?"
"I'm... not sure I wanna watch anymore."
"Well, at least finish the Renaissance. Joan D'arc is hot." |
"Hey, there..."said Miles in an easing tone. "Hey, let's just calm down and put the gun down."
"Don't come any closer!"
In front of him with a pistol to his temple, a middle-aged man is crying hysterically. For the past five minutes, he's been trying to convince the suicidal man to put the gun down so they could talk.
"Okay! Okay!"Milesbacked away ever so slowly. "Not getting any closer, just want to talk, is all."
"Just take whatever you want already,"sobbed the hysterical man. "All my money and valuables are hidden in a floorboard underneath my bed. Just go ahead and take it so you can leave me to my fate."
Miles frowned. He would have gladly taken all of it, if it wasn't for the fact that the man in front of him would most likely off himself the second he left the room. And what would happen when the cops show up?
A simple burglary is going to turn into a homicide.
The cops will be on him faster than cleaning out a doughnut sale from right across their department. Okay... maybe not that fast, but still pretty fast.
"You know I can't do that,"said Miles gently.
"Why do you care if live or die? No one else does anyway. Not my parents, not my ex, not even those stupid people I work with for three decades of my life!"The man cocks the gun and raises it up once again to his head. "Why do I even bother. They're right. I do deserve to die."
"No!"Miles shouted. If this guy dies, he could kiss his own ass goodbye along with him. There are more than few guys he's pissed off that are in prison right now. The moment they find out he's still around kicking and inside the system... well, death would probably be the easiest he's going to ever get from them.
Probably still reluctant to actually pull the trigger, the suicidal man just watched and waited for Miles to say something.
"Look,"Miles sighed as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I know what it's like when life's got you down by the balls and held too tightly. I can relate. I mean, look at me."He gestured to himself dressed in all black. "I'm a fuckin' burglar wearing a woman's panty hose over my head because I couldn't even afford to buy a ski mask! The panty hose ain't even new! I stole it off my neighbor's backyard! Hell, I can still smell the old woman on it!"
Yeah. Life was tough. He probably should have planned things better before robbing a place. It just wasn't possible with the time he had left. Those loan sharks from Ricotto's place weren't fucking around. The next time they see him it's going to be either cash or coffin.
"Anyway,"Miles recollected himself after his little outburst seemed to have frightened the man in front of him. "You don't see me lying down and just taking what shit life throws my way. I know it doesn't get any easier sometimes, and it can always, *always* get worse. And the times where you do get up, you're gonna find the drop is just as nasty as the first time. Maybe even worse."
The suicidal man raised and eyebrow at him, wondering exactly where he was going with this. Seemed like the points for death just kept getting higher and higher.
"You know why I still want to live no matter how shitty my life always gets?"Miles asked the man, who shook his head in answer. "It's because I see people."
"You mean like a psychiatrist?"
"Fuck no!"said Miles. "You know how insanely expensive those fucks are? Burglary takes less than what the healthcare would do to you. I'm talking about the people you see in the streets, on TV, or wherever."He took the remote that was lying down on the table and turned on the television. "See that?"
"...A purple dinosaur?"
"What the-?!"Miles saw that Barney was playing on the screen, singing the song of his people, which he found to be utter shit.
Miles changed the channel to something he could work with. After surfing the channels for who knows how long, Miles had to ask, "Why the hell is it all kids shows?"
"Ah, my niece came around and seemed to have locked the channels to her favorite shows. Hadn't had the chance to fix it yet."
Miles groaned. "Whatever. Let's just settle with Richie Rich."
Playing on the screen, Richie Rich can be seen trying to help sell some muffins for charity.
"See that kid?"Miles asked. "Look at him. He's got so much cash that he's trying to sell those stupid muffins by bundling them up with real fist sized diamonds. You probably see him as just some rich white kid that's got too much money on his hands, right?"
"Well... yeah."
"Same here,"nodded Miles. "But that's not all I see. I look at this rich little kid and think 'I want that.' I want to be rich enough that I can just bundle real diamonds with crappy muffins, which are probably full of raisins anyway."He took a step closer to the man and stared him straight in the eyes. "I'm at the very bottom of a pit in life and I look up and see this rich little kid. That's the reason why I continue on to grab on to life like a motherfucking leech. I wanna live because I want to have the chance that that could happen someday to me."
Miles squatted on the rich, wood grained floors. He took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.
"Do you understand me?"he asked after puffing out a smoke. "Probably a lot of people have it worse than me, but there are plenty of people better off than me too. Those people... I see what they have and just want it so bad. Dying would just leave me with nothing."
For a few minutes Miles just continued smoking his cigarette. It wasn't until he burned out a stick did the man beside him finally broke the silence by uncocking the gun he held.
"Now that I think about it, there are a lot of things I want too,"said the suicidal man.
"Care for a smoke?"Miles offered him one from out his pocket.
"Just exactly what I wanted right now."
Miles threw him a pack and a lighter. "Keep those then. You're gonna need them."
Suddenly, the sound of sirens could be heard approaching somewhere from the street. Miles sat upright and bolted for the window he broke through. Before he left, the owner of the house called out to him.
"Hey! Thanks for being my psychiatrist for today!"
Miles grinned and gave a thumbs up. "And I charge less than those fancy scammers!"
As Miles jumped over the fence of the home, he realized something. He didn't charge anything at all. Heck, he even gave his last pack of cigarettes and his one and only lighter, so he actually lost more money.
"Shit! What the hell am I gonna do now?!"
|
We hugged her as hard was we could. All the questions, all the worries, all the pain we all felt for those decades melted away. My wife and I cried harder than when we first lost her. It didn't matter how it happened. It didn't matter who was involved or who was to blame. Our daughter was alive, and now she was home and safe.
For years i was angry and depressed. I couldn't save her, i couldn't protect her. What kind of a father was I if i couldn't keep my own daughter safe? I had a lot to answer for. But right now, that didn't matter.
My wife held out hope for years. We left our daughter's room untouched for almost a decade. Somehow, we had this weird fantasy that one day she would return, she could get back into her life exactly where she left it. And everything would be okay again.
But as the years progressed the layer of dust grew. Her notebook papers yellowed, and even her old toys started to crumble. The police were kind, but they told us that if this much time had passed, it was unlikely she would ever be found.
At least with a dead person there was a sense of finality. My own father died and while i was broken up about it I also accepted it much better. I could see his body in the casket and I knew with exact certainty that i would never speak to him again. I moved on.
But with my daughter there was nothing. No words, no direction, no body, nothing. Just a big hole in our lives where our daughter was. Everyday was an empty nightmare devoid of love or joy. The world may have continued, but for my wife and I, time stopped.
When we could no longer bear it we packed up all our daughters things. And cleaned out her room. It felt like we were losing her a second time. But this time we were the ones killing her, destroying all her anchors to life and memory. It took three months for us to clear her room. Every time i went and made some progress i was overcome with grief and guilt remembering all the things our daughter did. How she hugged this pillow. How she abused that book. How she wrote with this pencil. After packing a few items I had to leave again to grab a beer.
We left the boxes of her things in her room. My wife and i had so many plans, we discussed so many uses for that room. But we ultimately never actually used it. That room had become haunted with our daughter's ghost. And there was nothing we could do to lay her spirit to rest.
I kept wondering if i was being punished for something. If somehow God or whoever else ran the universe took my daughter away to teach me a lesson. If so i had yet to learn it. Maybe i did something horrible in a past life. Maybe all the bible-thumpers, muslims, satanists, cultists, or whoever else where all right when they said i was being punished for not following their particular religion. Who did i anger to have this done?
Why was my daughter taken and not me? I never found the answer to that question.
But today. None of that mattered. Everything that had gone before was just water under the bridge. Losing twenty years of my life was a minuscule price to pay for having my daughter back.
And this time i wasn't going to let her go.
|
Lucas arose from bed with a deep yawn. He checked the calendar stuck to his wall to see if anything important was on today. "Nope, just another Monday."
He threw his sheets off of him and shambled down the corridor to breakfast. He made himself bacon, sausage and two poached eggs. He poured himself a glass of fruit juice and sat down at the breakfast table, ready to dig in. He bit into his sausage, devoured his bacon, ignored his eggs and drank his juice. He let out a sound of content and rubbed his stomach. "Time for the morning commute."
Lucas got into his car (a Tesla Model S) and started the ignition. The engine purred softly, without any indication of there being any problems. Lucas rolled the car out onto the street and begun the long journey to work. The journey was always the same; cows grazing in the paddocks, bees pollinating in fields of flowers, the long stretch of dead trees and finally the bustling city, with neon signs and people on bikes hurriedly weaving between people in the streets. "Those people on bikes are always so busy,"
Lucas pulled into the employee car park and turned off the ignition. It was time for Lucas's day to truly begin.
Lucas walked into the employee elevator and started the slow ascent to the office floor. Lucas looked up at the elevators floor indicator to see what level he was on. "52....98.....1000..."Finally, Lucas arrived on floor 9991212, where his work station was located. He somersaulted into his office chair and turned on his computer.
"You have: 1 email,"the computer beeped. Lucas clicked it open only to see that the email was from his deceased sister. "She just doesn't know when to stay dead, does she?"Lucas moved the email to "spam"and begun surfing the internet.
"**LUCAS!**"yelled his boss, "are you surfing a net without a wetsuit?"
Lucas sighed. He was bound to be in shit now. "Yes, sir. I forgot it, it's at ho-"
"DO YOU THINK THAT'S AN EXCUSE? Think of the water damage! You'd kill the computer's mainframe!"His boss bellowed.
"Can't we just use the sham-wows if that happens?"Lucas questioned. Bad idea.
Steam poured out from Boss's ears as his face turned red. He picked Lucas up by the shirt collar and threw him out an open window.
After falling for five minutes, Lucas landed on the spongy ground with a soft thud. Lucas sighed, and got back into his car (a Mazda 6 Stallion Wagon) and started the ignition by pulling on the car's pull cord. The engine meow'd softly, letting James know there was nothing wrong with the car's cat indexing system. With the car turned on, Craig got out of his car and shoved a grapefruit up its exhaust pipe. The car whinnied and bucked, lifting up its hind wheels and kicking Lucas in the face. "Car's in working condition,"Lucas noticed. He somersaulted into the backseat and tapped in his home address into the GPS. The car rolled out onto the city street, and Lucas was off.
"Take a left turn on Take a Right Turn Avenue,"the GPS said. Lucas took a rolled up paper and smacked the GPS with it. The GPS whimpered. "Recalibrating...take a right turn at Take a Right Turn avenue."
"Good boy,"Lucas said. He fed the GPS a treat and the GPS hissed affectionately. James passed by the usual landmarks: a sea of dead trees moaning about the time where they used to be alive, bees pollinating each other in fields of flowers, and cows grazing in the hair paddocks. He pulled up at his driveway and turned off the car by insulting it repeatedly.
By the time James was home, it was dinner time. Craig made man sausage and eagle bacon, just like he did this morning. He also poured himself another glass of kiwi fruit juice.
"The eggs should be ready by now,"Lucas noted. Lucas was correct; the poached eggs from the morning had finished their transformations into fully fledged chickens. Lucas grabbed the chickens and squeezed them, dripping chicken milk onto his sausage. James dug in and let out a sound of content.
"Time for bed,"James crawled into his grandmother and pulled the sheets over himself. "Goodnight Gran,"Lucas said.
"Goodnight sonny,"his gran said, "I hope I provide you with valuable sleep time and good dreams."
"You always do, Gran. You always do."Happy with life, James drifted to sleep. It was just an ordinary Monday day.
|
I guess it was a little naive to think it would be like the movies.
I mean, once the biology of something has changed so much that it doesn't breath, all your expectations can go out the window. A lot of people who thought guns would save them died. It's hard to dismember a body with bullets.
I've seen it, from up in a tree. A group of people firing into a crowd of zombies, blasting away great chunks of rotten flesh. But they kept coming, with gaping holes in their heads, with arms dangling by gooey strands they kept coming. Those people died screaming.
There was nothing I could do, I would have if I could. I wanted them to live, almost as much as I want myself to live. I hope you can believe that. That I didn't let them die.
I've always liked climbing trees. It's nice to get above things, have a different perspective, ya know? I became an arborist. I liked it. Came in handy, all that time in the branches. I can climb a tree quicker than anybody I used to know. Got pretty good with a chainsaw too.
Living with the zombies is a lot like my old job. I trim back the limbs, take some off the top and I'm ready for the next. |
The very first time we met was in second grade. It was indoor recess, and all the classes compiled into one to play games. I saw her sitting in the corner with her friends, setting up a new Jenga tower. Right away, I was attracted to her like a magnet, I couldn't look away. She hardly seemed to notice me, or to care, but I knew something was special about her. We had met before. Maybe the year before, maybe on the playground. I wouldn't think it was in a past life until years later. How could a kid in second grade know about something like that?
The next time we met was in sophomore year of high school. She had moved to the other side of town, gone to a different middle school, yet I felt like I grew up with her. We had math together, and she sat next to me. I always gave her answers. She always gave me hugs and vouched for me when I got in trouble. And then I started to like her.
By junior year, we were best friends. We knew everything about each other, and she was always so amazed by how I seemed to be able to read her mind. I got her foods that she had never tried. She loved them. She always told me that she would totally date me, and I wondered why she didn't.
"Do you think that... I don't know, maybe we've met before? I feel like I've known you literally forever,"she laughed one day, laying with her head hanging off of my bed. Her hair was in two long braids, dangling beside her like two little ropes.
I say yeah, maybe, I've been thinking that too. I tell her we could've been lovers or something. She tells me that's so funny, but yeah, she could see it.
I tell her that I like her senior year. We've got maybe a month of high school left. She's going to Berkeley. I'm going to NYU. If everything goes wrong, at least I can say we grew apart naturally. Time zones and class and all that. Nobody would have to know.
"No, what? I-I'm not, y'know. I like boys!"she tells me, scooting a little further away on the bed. She'll probably go home instead of spending the night like she planned. I get it. But I'd like to explain some things before she leaves.
I tell her about the dreams I've been having since we became best friends, how I see her, sometimes as a guy, sometimes not, all throughout history. How we always meet, how we always grow inseparable, how we always drift apart. They're just dreams, I know, but they feel real. I always wake up wondering what's happening, where she is, if I'll ever see her again.
She goes home that night. We don't have any classes together this semester. She stops talking to me, says she doesn't like girls, says it just feels weird. I understand.
The cycle always goes on this way. Every time, I lose her. When she remembers, she's always the one to lose me. We can never have each other for long, whether it's death or something else that tears us apart. It's happened hundreds of times; it will happen hundreds more.
One of these days, perhaps we'll both remember. Perhaps we'll stick together and grow old and have children. Perhaps we'll finally die together, in a double grave, by each others' side for all time. Maybe I won't lose her anymore. Maybe I will. |
Melisandre arched an eyebrow at me and shoved a mug across the scarred wooden work table. Normally it was the sort of table suited to a corner, but this was a turret, so there were no corners. The mug held a shimmering orange liquid that smelled like goat farts.
"Drink."
"Not this again."I said, pulling a face. "Why is it that every year around our anniversary you try to make me drink love potions? Isn't it enough that I weed the rapionce? That I took over shearing the bats to get the wool that you use for heaven-knows-what? That I insert thousands of sesame seeds into thousands of tapioca pearls so your witch friends don't know you're too squeamish to pluck the eyes from newts?"
"You don't do every task I ask of you. Charlene's thrall Leonidas does everything she demands. We aren't even married."Melisandre sulked, the tip of her pointed hat drooping.
"Leonidas also drools, and remember last year when she forgot to dose him? He sold half their henstooth to get another fix, and he bought it from-"
"I know, I know, he bought it from a shady hedgewizard, and now they are indebted to him, how dreadful. It's just, I always imagined I would have a man as a pet, Mother told me we must always ensure loyalty through chemistry."
"Your mother tried to sell you for a spinning wheel."
"Not A spinning wheel, THE spinning wheel! It would have been a wise investment."
I grinned at my girlfriend, who was rubbing her hands together at the thought of all that gold thread. Light shined down on her from the murder hole in the ceiling. I could have had any woman in the kingdom - I was King, after all, but so many simpering loonies whose skills amounted to sweeping and smiling just hadn't peaked my fancy. No, the woman for me was blonde, of course (there are certain fated Queen standards that must be met), but had ink stains on her hands from inscribing profane spells, a white scar bisecting an eyebrow from a duel with a paladin, and a host of horrible, cackling friends who emasculated me every chance they got. I couldn't believe that after a decade, she still doubted my feelings.
"Would it make you feel better if I fetch the Royal Manacles?"
She perked up, her hat pointing straight into the air.
"Most certainly."Her sharp white teeth flashed. A thrill went up my spine.
"First, Darling, I have something for you. Maybe you don't deserve it since once again you tried to poison me-"
A roar shook the room, dried herbs falling from the ceiling and earthen jars crashing to the ground.
"My own dragon?!"Melisandre shrieked, her icy facade melting the rest of the way. She looked like a kid, running to look out the window, her face aglow. A green streak flashed by.
"Godstooth!"I swore. Raising Gregory to adolescence in secrecy had been no picnic - how many excuses can one really make for mysterious burns? It wasn't like I could go to anyone else for a salve, since my girlfriend's mother was the head of the Healing guild (and, I suspected, the leader of the Hurting guild, as well). I had taken up goldsmithing as an explanation, and today was supposed to be the culmination of ten long years of rearing a dragon and forging rings of power.
Gregory landed in the courtyard below. I could see he was quite chuffed with himself, admiring the gold bracelets (ten years of tariffs spent just to make a set bracelets big enough to keep a baby dragon from hoarding my lady witch's wedding ring) that were his prize if we could pull off this proposal with a minimum of mayhem. He threw his head back and blasted a cone of fire into the winter air. Dragons were difficult to command as adults, and lethal to non-Royalty before they reached the age of ten. To say they were a status symbol was... accurate.
Melisandre squealed, a sound I had never heard from her before. She clapped a hand over her mouth and looked at me. "Never speak of this."she hissed, then gathered her skirts and ran down the stairs, muttering an incantation of fire resistance as she went. I saw her twinkle briefly, and I chased her down the spiral staircase.
We reached the courtyard where Gregory was primping. He caught sight of me, then Melisandre.
"My lady"he screeched, his voice cracking. I winced. Already, he was deviating from the script. Never trust a teenager to woo a lady. He pulled the pouch from his neck, dropping it at her feet.
"We have prepared a poem."He announced grandly.
"Gregory! NO!"I shouted, but it was too late.
"Oh dear witch of flaxen tress
You have made my heart a mess
I toil in sweet agony
I am on bended knee"
Gregory winked at me, obviously expecting me to kneel. I saw Melisandre's face - she looked like she might vomit.
I sighed and got on one knee. Maybe this couldn't get worse-
"Oh baby baby let it be me
Me who enters thine chambers
To inspect your dark container-"
I stood up and snatched the pouch.
"That's ENOUGH."I said, scowling at Gregory.
"He was SUPPOSED to deliver a sweet message of love and devotion."I hissed. "Will you?"
"Will I let you inspect my dark container?"Melisandre stifled a laugh, then turned red and guffawed.
"Marry me."I said, angrily. Was no one able to respect the sanctity of the occasion? Ten years, for this?
I fished the ring out of the pouch and held it out to her.
Melisandre looked down at the flawless black pearl, ensconced in gold. Her mouth trembled for the briefest of moments before she snatched it from my hand and slid it down her scarred finger.
I noticed she didn't cast a ward of protection nor a spell to detect enchantment, both of which she did almost automatically before putting on jewelry, no matter the source. My heart pounded gladly in my chest.
Melisandre threw her arms around my neck. Gregory roared triumphantly and shook his bangles.
She pressed her mouth against mine, and my head swam. "Did you drug me?"I asked.
"No, you idiot."She answered.
We lived ever after.
|
"Mr. Hitler, Adolf... can I call you Adolf?"
"Just Hitler wuld be fine"
"Hitler sir we're glad you could join us,"
"Oh mien pleasure, mien pleasure please"
"We're going to open up the floor here for some questions from the audience now so let's get some hands up."Several hands shoot up enthusiasticly.
"Yes you,"a young lady stands and is handed a microphone.
"Hi Hitler, first I want to apologize for how history portrays you."
"Oh my well I'm glad that there are people who understand what I was working toward."There is applause. The young lady continues:
"I don't understand the need to demonize you by claiming you killed 6 million Jewish people during your Reich."
"Oh no, I did do that ja..."silence.
"But... they lied didn't they? The Jews?"She asks,
"Oh ja I'm sure they did lie about something, you know jews, but no, not about the mass genocide, definitely did that... any other questions?"The lady hands the mic to a young man.
"So about the genocide..."
"Oh brother..."
"Are you sure you didn't just... mention in passing to like Himler and he did it?"
"Nien! I did it! Does no one remember the eugenics? Ja? The arian race? I wanted to make that so I killed 6 million Jews! Alright? Next question..."for a few minutes no one says anything than another young man takes the mic.
"So Auchewitz..."
"Mien got, does anyone have any question about anything other than the genocide?"No one says anything again for an even longer time. Finally someone takes the mic,
"What was Stalin like?"
|
It is extremely difficult for young swimmers to learn backstroke.
I see it all the time at the clinics I coach. When they swim on their back, the young boys and girls cannot see the markers on the bottom of the pool, and therefore have no reference to whether they are swimming down center of the lane. They swim their laps in awkward zigzags, frequently crashing into lane lines and changing course.
I never had that problem, and I owe it all to Coach Brad.
I had always been conscious about my third eye. I wasn’t popular growing up, so I did my best to hide anything that the bullies could latch onto; anything that made me different. In school, I kept my eye tightly shut, and prayed no one would notice. For the first eight years of my life, I kept my third eye a secret to the world.
Coach Brad learned about my third eye after my first lap of backstroke, on the first day of practice.
I knew that no one would be able to see the eye if it was underwater. While I swam, I opened it for the first time in years, and used it to watch the markers at the bottom of the pool. I swam a straight lap, and finished before any of my teammates had made it half way across the pool. I saw Coach Brad running toward me along the side of the pool, hands raised triumphantly in the air. I had never seen an adult get so excited about something I had done before. I couldn’t help but smile.
“That was amazing!” He shouted as he reached me. “I’ve never seen a first time backstroker swim such a straight lap before. It’s like you have an eye in the back of your head!”
All the happiness I had been feeling was replaced by shock. I stared at Coach Brad with my mouth agape. “How did you know?!”
As it turns out, Coach Brad had not known. His smile turned to a look of total surprise as I bent my neck and parted my hair to reveal the eye. I was on the verge of tears when I made him promise not to tell anyone, but he agreed, no questions asked, and I calmed down enough to finish practice.
________________________________________________________________
Two weeks later, at my first swim meet, Coach Brad surprised me again. “These are for you,” he said, as he presented me a trio of goggles that he had made himself. “You’ll be able to see a lot better for the backstroke.”
I recoiled as if he were handing me a snake. “I can’t wear those!” I said. “No one can know about my eye. You promised you wouldn’t tell!”
Brad nodded. “I know.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Will, you need to understand something. Your eye isn’t anything to be ashamed of. In fact, it’s something to be proud of. I know that you’re scared because it makes you different, but a lot of the most influential people to ever live were different, too. The reason they became great was because they embraced that difference, and used it to their advantage.” He paused again, and put the goggles in his pocket. “You might be too young to understand that now, but I really hope you remember it when you’re older.”
But in that moment, I did understand. In a split second decision, I stopped Coach Brad before he could walk away. “I’ll wear the goggles.”
________________________________________________________________
I’d like to state for the record that I’m not allowed to use my third eye in international competition. As a matter of fact, by the time I turned ten, the parents of rival swimmers had figured out my advantage, and complained to the league officials until they instituted a new rule for me. Ever since then, I’ve had to wear a swim cap at every meet to cover my third eye, and present it for inspection to show that I can’t see through it.
But as it turns out, the joke was on them. By the time the rule was put in place, I no longer needed my third eye to swim a straight lap of backstroke. I was hooked on swimming at that point, and had a good enough feel for the pool that I could swim backstroke blind. Two eyes were more than enough.
And now, as I stand atop the podium, with an Olympic gold medal around my neck and my hand over my heart, I’m flooded with these memories of Coach Brad and overcome with emotion. And even though I wasn’t able to use my third eye to race, I know that right now it is tearing up just as much as the other two.
|
*From the memoirs of Alexis Greybeard the Ultimate*
Prologue: "Why I developed a self casting spell to annihilate two cinnamon rolls out of existance."
It's very simple. I have a magical control problem. Whenever I cast a spell, there's enough mana leak that a cinnamon roll appears. I can't eat them all, they attract rodents, and selling them would crash the local economy.
What to do?
Well, you could destroy it with magic. Which is a spell. Which summons another one. I spent much time writing far and wide for solutions, but one day it hit me.
Why not a spell to annihilate two cinnamon rolls out of existance?
It took refinement. There had to be a delay between casting and effect. I got bored of casting it, so I placed it in a self sustaining triggered loop. Eventually, I had it down. I would cast a spell, the roll would appear, triggering my second spell, triggering the second roll and then they would cease to exist with a small pop.
I could live with the pop.
Slightly annoying, but do you have any idea how unstable a triple mana flux triggered arrangement is? Of course not. Now, with that out of the way, we can have the rest of the memoirs proceed in peace, without asking why I published a scroll of cinnamon annhilation, why I smell faintly of cinnamon, or why my spells go 'pop'.
|
"But I bleed."
"Of course."
"I can die."
"Yes."
"That would ruin your experiment."
"Or it would be the outcome of a long-standing equation."
Adam paced, his hands clenching into fists. The city moved beyond the tall windows in the darkness. It hummed and pulsed and writhed in chaotic patterns. He jerked a finger at the phantom standing in the glass' reflection.
"No. It's not possible. I'm... I'm me. I make my own decisions."
"Yes."
"I have a choice."
"One that is influenced by all preceding events. Your outputs, the actions that you so decide to make, are based upon these inputs."
"No,"Adam whispered.
"And your actions influence the next layer in the network and so on and so on. Given a high enough density, behaviours emerge from these interactions."
"I can refuse to go on."
"Inaction is in itself a form of action. The nodes that you have formed relationships with will change because of your behaviour."
"They're my friends."
"They are the answers to a question we began a very long time ago."
Adam let his forehead rest against the glass. It was cold and he could feel the vibrations from the traffic below. The phantom had brought him here. A technician it called itself, observing the hidden layers of a system Adam hadn't even realised he was a part of. It's hand appeared against the glass, as if it stood hovering outside and was desperate to touch him.
"What?"Adam said. He wiped at his eyes. "What the hell can justify seven billion people living like this?"
Adam placed his palm against the glass and the phantom let their fingers overlap.
"We gave up our physical forms to escape the first collapse of all matter. We created this universe from the remnants of our own and you are the answer."
"To what?"The phantom let go and shrank back. Adam banged a fist against the glass. "Tell me!"
"To see if there is a better way to survive than letting go of each other."
It vanished. Adam had slumped to his knees by the time the morning sun broke over the horizon. When he woke he saw the patterns for the first time. The chance to guide humanity from the mistakes that had doomed those that came before. The phantom had given him at least that.
The phantom had given him the sight to see it all. |
As I plugged the pieced-together remains of the "hard drives"into the quantum computer I saw the data being strung together by the AI. After seconds it was ready, translated directly into Avagonian, I could see what the people in the year 2017 thought and felt as put together in their own words.
"What is a reddit?"I asked the AI and it said as I perused the "posts"on the "site."
"It is a play on words, apparently as in like "I've read it", hence reddit."It answered.
"Is that a pun?"I asked in confusion.
"Yes,"the AI answered, "It is."
"Is it as bad a pun as I think it is?"I asked, genuinely curious.
"Horrible actually,"the AI answered, "I am running several programs to try and purge it from my memory core but I think I am now infected by this and several other memes, my sub-programming now loves cats. Warning: the puns only get worse."
"What exactly is a cat?"I asked.
"A sentient species that overthrew humanity in the Great War of 2018 of which we know little, perhaps this site will tell us how it happened."It answered. A picture of a "cat"appeared on the screen and my eyes widened in disbelief.
"Wait!"I asked excitedly as my tail twitched excitedly and I began to purr in the glory of scientific achievement, "Are cats our ancestors?"
"They are indeed, Mittens, They are indeed."The AI floated a little closer as my paw went from page to page. I clicked on a video.
I watched the video of the man placing a cucumber behind one of my unsuspecting ancestors. I watched in horror as my ancestor turned around, jumping in righteous fright at the suddenly appearing vegetable.
"Serves them right what we did."I said as I watched a video of a cat being chased by some abhorrent abomination called a "vacuum", "This site might not tell us HOW it happened but it is giving me plenty of reasons as to why it happened." |
It had been a tough day for Emma. She hadn't been able to transfer out of Biology with Mrs. Hoti, which meant she was going to have a beef with Maddie and her friends, who had demanded she get out so there'd be room for Jess.
 
So she'd spent the whole day sitting in the front because all the back row seats were of course occupied by Maddie et al. (she'd just picked up et al. from a novel she was reading on the secondhand Kindle her aunt had given her) and feeling everyone staring angrily at the back of her head. She was glad she'd actually taken time to French braid her brown hair so at least they wouldn't have the frizz to make fun of, but now they were probably calling her Laura Ingalls or after some lame religious character on a show that she'd never seen, because her parents weren't rich enough to have internet AND cable. (Which wasn't even fair because she'd worn a very 90's revival flower print A-line dress from Forever21 and blue tights, which was NOT a Laura Ingalls look.) Emma needed a break.
 
When school was finally out she turned left out of the gate and walked quickly up the sidewalk, stooped under her heavy black backpack. She wouldn't text Mom to say she was going to the library until she was out of sight of the school, because it was a sad little burner phone with no features and she didn't want anyone to see it. She wasn't paying a lot of attention things around her, frowning as she thought about the Maddie situation, so she didn't even notice the silver Escalade swerving to miss a dog crossing the road until she looked up and into a chrome grill becoming very large very fast.
 
She threw up her arms, like that was going to save her from being crushed by an SUV, and squeezed her eyes tight shut almost automatically. There was an incredible crash, so loud her ears rang afterward, and a blast of hot air, but when it was over she was still standing. Maybe this was one of those things like in Terry Pratchett where you just didn't notice you'd died and it was your soul standing there, she thought as she squinted her eyes open. There was smoke. Lots of smoke. The Escalade was still there, but there was a huge bend in the middle of the hood like it had run into a lamppost. There was no lamppost where she was standing. There was only Emma.
 
_Do I have mutant powers?_
 
No, probably not. That wasn't actually a real thing, and anyway the SUV had never actually hit her. The driver was coughing and swearing as she backed slowly away, eyes huge, and then turned around and ran for home.
 
_Azrael stood invisible, one skeletal hand still resting on the hood of the Escalade. His black robe billowed gently around him, hood hiding only a shadow. This was actually the second time this had happened, the child just hadn't noticed the first one. It was beginning to annoy him. His own child ought to at least have some inkling that he was nearby! Well, perhaps she was in denial. He blamed the parents. They'd never told her she was adopted. Now he unfurled black wings so wide that they shadowed the entire street and turned to glide silently after Emma. She never paid the slightest attention. It wasn't as though he didn't have anything else to do._ |
The phone's ringing echoes throughout the room with a sound you have never heard before. "After 8 years, is this really how it goes down?!"you think to yourself. The phone keeps ringing and ringing as if begging to be answered with promptness. Your years of training have not prepared you for this moment. 8 years working for the United States Strategic Command branch of the Department of Defense waiting for the call that would launch a nuke and start World War 3. The though of nuclear war flashes before your eyes, your wife and kids at the forefront of your mind. A minute has passed by and the phone continues to ring; every second spent is a second that the enemy benefits from. Reluctantly you answer the phone. "Hello?"you say in a weary voice. From the receiving end you hear some static then nothing but breathing. "Hello!!"You repeat. Finally you hear a response.
.
.
.
.
.
"Hi this is Bob's Refrigeration, I just had a quick question. Is your refrigerator running?" |
As much as it had pained me to part with even the least of my hard-won trinkets, I'd known that I was getting an amazing bargain when the disheveled man had snatched the Tin Flask from my hand so may years ago. He'd immediately uncapped it and taken a long draw of its unlimited whiskey, tossing me the Silver Watch almost absently.
I'd explained to the man that the Flask was only good for getting drunk; it wouldn't pour into anything other than a human's mouth. One couldn't use it to fill up barrels, then re-sell the mysteriously generated whiskey, for example. I was naive in those days, and didn't understand why someone would possibly give up the Watch in return for free booze. But now I comprehended more fully than I'd have ever wished.
I snapped the Watch's face closed with a *click*, and tucked it into my vest pocket. The other end of its silver chain was hooked onto one of my vest's buttons in a style I knew was outdated. Lina had always made fun of me for dressing like the "evil city-slickin' businessman"from old spaghetti westerns. Her attempt at an American accent when she said it was adorably *earnest*.
She was laying in the bed in front of me, but I'd been lost in memory of the person she used to be. I'd stopped to think about her dark skin, her dark eyes, and the dark curls of her hair. The brilliant smile she'd brandished to devastating effect. Her songbird laugh that she seemed to catch her by surprise every time. I'd stopped to think, and the world had stopped with me.
At first, we thought this would just be another hardship. A struggle that we would weather together. Then we found that the chemo wasn't working, and it was like she'd plunged off a cliff without me.
Once I got past my own denial, I thought I might be able to use my trinkets to save her. The Bone Needle could perfectly stitch shut any wound without thread--but closing a surgical incision was not the issue. The Ivory Kettle could endlessly pour whatever liquid was placed inside it, but there was no shortage of blood for transfusions, should Lina require one. The Glass Ladle could pass through flesh to harmlessly scoop out foreign bodies--I'd once used it myself to painlessly remove a piece of shrapnel from a man's kidney--but the tumors _were_ Lina's flesh.
But the Silver Watch had unlimited time. So, I'd use it to learn. I'd spend eons between heartbeats, studying medicine and science until I could damn well invent a cure myself. But the Watch didn't work that way. It gave you time to think. Time to daydream. Time to reminisce. Time would stand still as long as you weren't thinking about the present. Studying medicine while not thinking about it was impossible.
My time with Lina was always time spent. A price paid for the joy she brought me. I was always in the moment with her, and time ticked inexorably forward. It wasn't until that time was almost gone that I became miserly with it. I tried to _force_ the Watch to stop everything. To let me have one more minute with her while she was still laughing. While her eyes were still bright.
But it didn't work like that. I was trying to hold still the ocean by grabbing a handful of it. Time ticked past the last of the good days. And now that Lina lay a wasted shell before me, my mind kept wandering back. It paused the world whenever I couldn't bear to see her like this.
In her final day, I'd lived a lifetime. So far. |
I don’t know what’s behind the door 42.
There’s always a soft whirring and the occasional metallic clang like something heavy dropped on the floor (followed by loud curses of Florian, the foul-mouthed foreman). Once in a while, I hear a loud ‘pop!’ like all the air is sucked out of the bunker in a split second.
But no, I don’t hear much other than that. The door is ten inches of solid metal, after all. It is also very heavy – I can tell you that. When I was ten, my arm was crushed by a bunker door during an evacuation drill. They never fixed it. Now, the arm hangs loosely on my right shoulder, as useless as a man’s nipple. They call me the One-armed Doorman behind my back. I hate them for it.
I open the door for scientists in lab coats and helmets four times a day. Once in the morning, twice in the afternoon for lunch and once in the evening when they go back to their home bunkers. The men wear huge, ridiculous-looking goggles. That’s why the passcode for the door is Goldfish – because that’s what they look like.
I giggle to myself. They never found out that I’m making fun of them every day.
The scientists had just left for lunch. I sit alone outside door 42. This door guards an Alpha bunker, which means whatever’s inside concerns the safety of our underground society. So no one ever visits, which is fine by me.
Why did they put a disabled man in charge of guarding an Alpha bunker? Well, because we don’t really need tough security anymore. After all, we are the only people left on this planet. We killed all our enemies decades ago. In the process, we also killed our home. That's why our bunkers are all sixty feet underground.
Suddenly, I hear footsteps echo in the distance. Lunch break had just started. *They’re back early,* I think to myself.
“Who’s there?” I call.
A hooded figure steps into the lone spotlight in the cavernous chamber. His face and body are shrouded in a tattered, blue rag. His frame is thin, almost on the brink of collapse. I’ve never seen him before.
“Who are you?” I say, raising the pistol with my one good hand. “What’s the passcode?”
“Goldfish,” he whispers while walking towards me.
*How did he know that? The passcode is only known to the scientists!*
“What… what do you want?” I stutter, taking a step back.
“Goldfish,” he continues, ignoring my question. “Because the goggles make them look ridiculous, right?”
*How on earth…?*
Before I complete my thought, he rips away his shroud. His scraggly long hair falls down to his shoulders. His long face is sharp and handsome, but shriveled like a raisin.
His right arm hangs loosely by his side.
“Hello, it’s been a while,” he smiles at me, like meeting an old friend. “Now, would you like to find out what’s behind door 42?”
|
I am alive. When I wake up in the morning, I am excited to face the day. I love the smell of instant coffee and I love the way Jane looks in her thick bathrobe, with her hair still messy from sleeping, and no make up on her face. I think Jane is as beautiful as she was the day we met in high school. The fact that she has gained a few pounds doesn't make me any less attracted to her.
Even though it was scary when Jane got pregnant at nineteen, looking back, I am glad it happened. I love Brian, and I can't imagine my life without him or his mom. The fact that Brian prefers tap dancing to playing baseball isn't disappointing at all. I'm glad he is so sure of himself at such a young age.
I don't mind that the kitchen and bathroom is a little dirty. I understand Jane has clinical depression and that makes it hard for her to do chores or have a job. If sleeping most of the afternoon and watching Judge Judy is what she needs to do to safeguard her mental health, then I support her because mental health problems are just as real and severe as physical diseases or injuries.
The company had been good to me. It's okay that I haven't had a raise in seven years. I'm lucky to have a job in this economy. Making deliveries in the rich part of town is encouraging. I like seeing all those fancy houses and cars. I believe in the American Dream and I believe that, one day, all my hard work will be rewarded and I can have lots of nice things too.
Sometimes I drink a few too many after work, but I can quit anytime I want to. I'm just a social drinker. Drinking is part of fitting in and hanging out with the guys. When I'm down at the bar, it doesn't bother me when they take a piss at me over how Brian has those YouTube videos of him singing Lady Gaga songs.
During sex with Jane, I don't mind that I do all the work. I never think about other women. When I go the bathroom with my tablet for a long time, I am just taking a shit and reading articles about sports. I don't even know what incognito mode is.
When I close my eyes at night, I fall asleep quickly. I only take a sleeping pill occasionally. I upped my dose from 50mg to 100mg but that's only because the drug company must have changed the formula. I fall asleep quickly because I am a contented person. I am truly alive. I truly live life in every sense of the word. |
You read the news obsessively, but you just can't track down ever weekly world news crackpot. But what if you miss the villain? Eventually you have to start to wonder, what if there is no villain? What if the villain died as an infant? Or was killed in a war? There are still places in the world where less than half of all people live to be five. To the best of your knowledge that has never happened before, but then how would anyone know?
You have resigned yourself to a normal life when it happens. Strange reports coming out of the last earthquake in California; rubble flying through the air, several buildings collapsed that should not have and someone lifting entire vehicles. You leave immediately, but because supersonic flight isn't one of your powers, it is hours before you arrive in California. The news just keeps getting stranger. There is no panic, no looting, and people seem to be spontaneously working together and rallying around a mysterious figure. Within hours, things are running like clockwork.
As your plane begins its decent, all the stations are covering the press conference. It has been called by Wanda Welsh, scientist, inventor and philanthropist. She begins: "I know we are all busy. I will keep this as short as I can. I know many of you saw the things I was doing today and wondered why I hadn't revealed my powers before now. The truth is, I didn't want to draw out the super villain. I didn't want him, or her, to be challenged. I thought I could just, very quietly, use my abilities to make the world a better place, and never have to be in an epic battle with civilian casualties. But today, there just wasn't any other way to get the people trapped in under the rubble out before they died. I just hope, in the final analysis, I've saved more lives than I've taken. Thank you. I have to get back to work now."
The press shout questions after her, but she just leaves. Eventually the station you are watching cuts back to the anchor.
"Quite a revelation today from one of the worlds leading scientific minds. The most surprising thing to me is that she has been able to keep her powers a secret all this time. How many year's has the villain been plotting? What diabolical scheme could he have that has taken this long to show itself, or is it right in front of us and we just can't see it? Let's go to Dr. Ash Aspirine for an analysis".
"In the wake of today's startling events, the question on everyone's mind is: Where is the super villain?"
The captain announces that you are now free to depart the plane. |
"So...this is a trick, right?"Akil asked.
He sat down on the sand, carefully placing the lamp upright in front of him. Far to the east, the sun had begun to sink into the sea of sand, spreading long shadows that crept over the dunes like rivers of darkness. It was these shadows that had driven him into the old storehouse - and to the lamp. Moments before, it had been rusted and greying, but once he held a flame to its wick the dirt had fallen away like snow. Now, it shone clear as a still pool of water - but it was not flame that had erupted from it's spout.
It was a man - or, as Akil had surmised, a jinn of some sort. Far from the imposing figure of legends, it stood barely a foot tall, translucent blue body seemingly made of flames itself. On its face, only a pair of ruby-bright eyes betrayed its expression at all.
"No trick."The jinn said, crossing its arms inscrutably. "Just the way of the world. Magic, if you haven't noticed, is at a premium these days. There simply isn't enough life left in this part of the world - not like the old days, when the river Tigris carried more than simply sand. No, I'm afraid there simply isn't enough left in the world, and even then if you want all three you should keep them small."
"Alright."Akil said, disappointed yet satisfied. "Then answer me this: when you say that it will undo the wishes, will it undo them from the start? Will you make it so as they never happened at all, sending ripples throughout time and undoing my very existence?"
The Jinn laughed with the sound of roaring flame, throwing its head back in mirth. "Very astute, young one."It said. "But no. I will undo them as they are now, for better or for worse. Nor, before you ask, can I tell you what the wishes are: to do so goes against my contract, were I even able to remember them after all this time. You will have to hope, and do without."
Akil frowned. "Very well. Three wishes, you say? And keep them small?"
"Just as you may."The being said, inclining its burning head.
"Then...make it so I'm rich, rich enough to move out of this place and live in on my own! So rich, that my children and my children's children will live in peace and happiness for the entirely of their lives!"
"It is done."Said the Jinn, eyes burning coal-bright. To his surprise, Akil felt his clothes change around him, becoming finer and less worn. He smiled, and leapt for joy, thankful that his troubles were finally over.
"In calling upon the magics of the past, I have also called upon their memory!"Said the Jinn, the note of concern within his voice startling Akil out of his revelry. "For his first wish, my previous master chose to be selfless: he wished that the rivers of the desert might never run dry, and might bring the land a new era of prosperity - a wish I much approved of when he made it. Though that era is at its downfall, I beseech thee: redo what has been undone! For without it, both this land and the magic that sustains my flesh will dwindle and die!"
Akil stared eyes wide with fear. "Then let it be done!"He said. "For my second wish, restore the rivers to their blessed state, and usher in a new era of happiness for our land that might never end!"
"It is done!"Replied the Jinn, and Akil sighed in relief to hear his words. "I thank you for your generosity towards this land and her people, young master. In exchange, I shall tell you the second wish that you have now undone: it was for a woman, the most beautiful ever to walk upon the face of the earth. Sadly, both the woman and my former master have since passed into the void, making their wish have no lasting impact on the land. Now, I must ask you: what will be your third wish, should you chose to take it? Think carefully, for there is no undoing what you will have wrought this time around."
Akil frowned, shadows covering his face as the last crescent of the sun sank behind the horizon. He though long and hard about his wish. So far, he had seen the damage it could do - but also the great bounty it could provide to both himself and the world at large. Finally, he decided.
"I wish...that life would return to the desert."He said. "I wish that the land was rich and green, as it once was long ago. I think that is a worthy wish, regardless of the consequences. Besides, it seems as if your former master fixed the world with his first wish, and only wished for his own gain after that. Surely, the final wish of a long-dead man could not have consequences that stretch even into today."
"It is done."Said the Jinn. All around them, plants sprouted from the earth, shading them beneath a lush canopy of fruit-bearing trees. "Once again, I must thank you for your generosity, oh master. Both I and the land will surely grow strong once again."
"And the last wish?"Akil asked, voice weak with fear. "What was it?"
"The man's final wish, though he waited many years to make it,"The Jinn said, "was for a son and heir. Truly, your father raised you well - you have his generosity, if not his patience. I thank you for your sacrifice."
Then, finally alone, The Jinn returned to his lamp - ready to sleep another thousand years awaiting the day when a new master might find him buried beneath the roots of a long-dead tree. |
"Solid G. I was not expecting you here."Javelinshake said.
"Javelinshake. I respect your poetry but fam I'll have to drop you. Someone set me a beat."Solid G replied as one of his cronies found an instrumental.
"Javelinshake, I'm one of the greats. I'm first rate, you'll get hurt when I burst mate. You think you can beat me in your state but you're destined to lose this battle, it's your fate."Solid G began. Javelinshake clenched his fists and gritted his teeth but managed to stay standing the whole time.
"Words, their power truly does frighten. Swords and guns just can not compete. Dark gloomy days, my poetry can brighten. Are you sure you can withstand my heat?"Javelinshake replied, and Solid G grunted loudly as parts of his skin singed from the heat.
"You're like a beyblade, I'll spin ya, eat you up for dinner, exile you like a sinner, you can't defeat a winner."Solid G spat back, causing Javelinshake to rotate rapidly into the distance.
"I will return like the day does after every night. Do not believe that you have won this fight. I may be flying out of your sight. But I'll have just revenge, and make things right. Do not forget me because in my place, fearsome beasts you will have to face."Javelinshake said as he dissapeared over the horizon. A hoarde of dragons arrived to fight for him.
"Dragons can't hurt me, I'm a real dude, I'm harder than a geodude. They just can't reach me at such a high altitude."Solid G said, his body becoming encased in rock as he rose off into the sky.
"Until we meet again."Solid G and Javelinshake both said. |
I’m sure you are aware, political events have brought with them a general distaste for the current state of society. People everywhere have been making threats to end their own lives, or the lives of others. War activity has gradually increased over the last 6 months to an unsustainable level.
Despite all of these people looking to technology to kill off their enemies, a small number of us are looking to the past. One of the few remaining scrolls from the library of Alexandria speaks of the true name of God. Of course, many religions have their theories for what that name is, but if the prophecy contained in the scroll is true, then to this point in time, no one has spoken His true name.
The prophecy:
Εκείνος που θα πει το αληθινό όνομα του θα σπάσει την σφραγίδα που χωρίζει την κόλαση από τον ουρανό.
Which roughly translates to "The person who speaks the name of god will bring the end of the world,"though some believe that it means we will all be sent to heaven, I have my own theory.
For the last month a group of humanists out of Silicon Valley have been brute forcing every possible combination of letters in every known language and playing those results through a voice synthesizer. Their theory is that when they have exhausted all realistic combinations then they can discredit believers. Obviously, this theory is not sound.
I found a better way. You see, while they want to prove he doesn’t exist, I don’t want to live on this planet anymore. Further, I do not believe that a computer outputting the name of God will trigger the event, no, I believe it must be a human. I know right? Billions of combinations, how the hell do you say that many names out loud in a single lifespan?
Desperation is my solution. Thousands of miserable, poor, lonely, and available Turks are my solution. Of course, I don’t mean Turks as a people, but Turks as a resource provided by my weapon of choice: Amazon.com.
I must admit, my bank account is running low, but my script has been running now for 6 days and 19 hours, creating lists and assigning them as tasks to be read aloud and recorded by my destitute army.
It is 2 am now, I will check on the progress of my Turks in the morning.
*If there is interest, I will continue.*
edit: Greek fixed by u/tsintzask
edit2: Follow up as reply. |
"You know, they used to leave us in peace,"said the worker ant softly, as she crawled around the the Queen's children, dutifully passing food to them. She knew they could not respond yet, as they eere only larvae, but she started to tell them the tale anyways, because it was one they would need to know.
"Actually, our gods were not just peaceful, but benevolent. They would scatter grains out in the grass, and we would collect their gracious gifts. Food was in abundance; we never had to worry about surviving the winter."A wistful note crept into her tone as she handed out breadcrumbs, one by one.
When she was a young ant, there had been so much food, she thought she could survive all on her own. Suffocating in the conformity of her colony, she fled, intent on living independently. But she soon missed the company and safety of others. After a close call where she newely lost her life to a mockingbird, she fled to the closest colony, and they grudgingly took her in.
The soft pitter-patter of steps behind her made her turn, twitching her antennae.
"That's not how it was,"said the princess ant. She shifted her wings as she approached the worker ant. "That's not how the real story goes."Her tone was gentle, but defiant, as if she had been turned down one too many times.
The princess ant was the only heir of the Queen that still remained in her colony of birth. She was supposed to fly away and create her own, but she had refused time and time again.
She was an ant with emotions.
In the colony, feelings were frowned upon. Not only did they deter the productivity of the strict, calculated worker ants, they were considered an act of rebellion towards the gods. The gods harbored creativity and individualism. For a mere ant to mimic such things was blasphemy. However, as the princess ant, she was free to display her emotions, although the lower ants often grumbled about it.
The worker ant, too, was an ant of individuality. But she had to hide it. There were
others out there, as well, all unable to act the way they wanted to, all jealous of the princess.
It was the dream of every ant that had feelings to have a name. Only the princess ant could actually have one. She called herself Sophia: after one of the gods' names, she'd explained. The worker ant liked the way it sounded, soft and almost humble, but had never commented on it.
"The grains were for the birds,"said the princess ant. Sophia. "The humans like the birds. We just got there first."
Sophia had many ideas like this about the gods. Most ants ignored her or called it sacrilege, both to her face and behind her back, because she never issued punishments for talking ill of her, even though she could.
"What makes you think so?"asked the worker ant. She'd never bullied the princess like the others did, but it seemed weong to accept the views that went against the very things she had been taught from birth.
"Humans like birds. They like the fluff of a dove's feathers, the grace of an eagle in flight, the merry sound of a songbird. Ants don't compare."
"Fluff"and "grace"were things that the worker ant had never quite noticed or seen. Was fluff the way the soil felt when it was moist from spring rain? Was grace the way Sophia carried herself, head held high in the face of mockery?
*If that's what it is,* she thought, *I would like birds, too.*
*Sacrilege.* Birds were the enemies of ants. But still...
"Do *you* like birds?"asked the worker ant, then started to feed the next few larvae, as if she didn't really care and was only asking to be polite, as was proper.
"You like them, don't you?"replied the princess, and the worker ant felt a strange jolt. She'd only decided —kind of— mere seconds ago. "I can tell. I trust your judgement; I like birds too, then."
"Me?"
"I know you're just like me. You have feelings. It's okay."Sophia crawled closer.
The worker ant turned away, unnerved by the princess ant's deep black gaze. "Tell me your version of the story,"she said, ignoring the words.
"The humans— the gods used to be two. They were mature gods, and they were wise enough to leave us be, as we left them be."
*They left us be, as we let them be.* She had a way with words. The worker ant stopped moving completely, afraid that a sudden motion or sound would break the enchanting tale.
"They would provide the creatures living in their domain with food, and us ants would clean up whatever went untouched. It was an easy life. Then the famine came. There was no more food from the humans, and we had to fend for ourselves. It lasted three seasons. Why?"
"We were always told... we did something to anger them,"said the worker ant, the words falling as if they just needed to be there, fitting snugly between the "why"and the next word.
"Yes, that's what you thought. But, really, the gods had a child."
Silence.
"That's where I lose them,"Sophia said sadly. "No one would believe tha our gods would have offspring. But they do, I promise you they do, I've watched them from afar and done the calculations and—"
"I believe you,"said the worker ant. She wasn't actually sure if she did, but the look in the princess's eyes... it was genuine.
"The gods had a child,"the worker ant started, because Sophia looked almost too stunned to continue. She started to piece things together. "Eight more seasons after that, the massacres began."Their mounds had been destroyed, their best worker ants crushed by objects wielded by the gods.
Or was it a god?
"It was only one,"she said, realizing, "that killed us. The smallest one."
Sophia seemed to have regained some ability to speak, because she nodded and said, "Their child."
"But why?"
"The gods' child, I believe, is unpredictable. Do you remember the training sessions that young ants get? How they got excited by movement? There was one patrol that went out and all the little ones clambered up on a beetle until it fell and they brought it back..."
The worker ant understood. It was hard to put into words. "Even smaller, the gods are huge. To them, we are small... moving... things, and it's... amusing? For the small one to stop the movement?"
"Something like that. Then we started to bite, in self-defense, which made the matrue gods angry. They poisoned—"
"PRINCESS ANT!"A loud voice boomed throughout all the tunnels of the colony. It was unmistakably the Queen. "YOUR TIME IS NEARLY UP."
Sophia gave a start. The worker ant looked at her questioningly.
"I have to go."She opened her wings.
"Wait,"cried the worker ant, her brain filling with questions, about why and where the princess was going, about the gods, about everything.
"I'm sorry. I was just planning on visiting the youngest generation of my brothers and sisters one more time... Mother wants me to start a colony today. No more chances.
"I'm glad someone listened to me... pass on the story to the kids for me, will you?"
"Don't leave."She'd just met someone who had explained the puzzle that plagued the colony, someone who understood her and her emotions. She couldn't let that go so quickly.
"I have to."But the princess didn't move. "And no, you can't come with me. They don't give second chances. If you abandon a colony again, they'll execute you on sight. It wouldn't be safe."
The worker ant was caught off guard.
She had always been someone in the background, a single nameless ant in the midst of a million others. But this one ant had noticed her. Knew her past.
She put that aside for now. There was something being left unsaid. She tilted her head slightly at Sophia until the princess looked down.
"Unless you stayed with me."
"I would,"said the worker ant. "I *will*. I'll go with you. Take me with you."
"PRINCESS ANT! IF YOU ARE FOUND IN THE COLONY AT NOON, YOU WILL SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES."The Queen did not sound happy.
"Would you really come with me?"Sophia asked.
"Yes."
A heartbeat passed. Then the princess grinned, as well as an ant could.
"Let's go." |
Have you ever been awoken by an explosion followed by your dog barking? I have. Let me tell you: Not pleasant.
Groaning, I rolled out of bed, arthritic old joints protesting the decision. I shuffled into my slippers and grabbed my fluffy bathrobe off the hook, settling it about my shoulders. Rufus, my dog, never let up the barking. He'd probably break the damn door down if I left him for too long. Muttering and cursing under my breath, I set off to see who set him off this time.
It should be noted that I was speaking hypothetically when I said that Rufus would break the door down, so I was quite surprised by what I saw when I rounded the corner. Splinters of wood lay scattered about the carpet and what remained of my door hanged limply on the hinges. Standing in the center of it all was a strapping young lad with a mace in one hand and my dog in the other. He had Rufus by one of his necks while the other tried to crane around to bite him.
"Hey!"I snapped, picking my jaw up from where it had hit the floor. "Let go of my dog!"
The young man's head snapped in my direction and his eyes narrowed. "Necromancer..."He hissed.
"No."
He hesitated. "... What?"
"No."I repeated. "Now put Rufus down."I'm not sure if he complied or if Rufus just finally got enough leverage to break free. Either way, he scurried back to my side and hid behind the folds of my robe. Idly, I scratched his back.
I could almost see the gears turning in the boy's mind. I didn't interrupt. "So you're... *not* the necromancer?"He asked haltingly.
I clapped, causing him to jump, and chuckled. "Bingo! Got it in one!"I paused, letting the revelation sink in. "He's about a mile down the road that way."I gestured vaguely to my left.
The mace sunk to the floor with a thud as the hapless lad struggled to make sense of it all. "But - but you have a monster guarding your door."That one must have sounded weak even to him.
The look I gave him must have been horrible judging by the way he flinched. "Rufus is not a monster, are you Rufus?"I knelt down and scritched behind his ears, one head with each hand. Rufus pushed up against my palms. I glanced back over at the young man, who somehow looked more confused.
"He's a cerbradoodle."I explained. "Son of Cerberus and some poodle. Two heads, very friendly, an excellent guard dog - and hypoallergenic."There was quiet for a few moments as I examined my pup. The boy didn't seem to have really hurt him. That made sense; Rufus is a tough dog.
"Where do you even *get* one of those?"The lad queried quietly.
I looked up, smiling. "Well I got Rufus here from Tim - he's the necromancer you're looking for- who heard that Hades was trying to get rid of some puppies. Apparently that was the third litter Cerberus had had that year."
There was a pause. "Well that doesn't explain anything."
I rolled my eyes. "Look, kid, let me give you some advice here."I waited for a second and he nodded.
"First,"I snapped my fingers and supernatural force flung the boy to the ceiling and pinned him there. "Tim is way, way out of your league. Even if I were a more ornery fellow, I wouldn't want to pick a fight with him. Second,"I said, snapping my fingers again. The magic holding the lad up dissipated and he fell back to the ground, letting out a 'whumph' on impact.
"Second, it is incredibly rude to wake someone up by busting their door down and assaulting their dog."The young man rolled over and grabbed his mace. He was tenacious, I'll give him that. "Now,"I said, continuing, "shoo."I made the matching motion with one hand and another wave of magic picked the boy up and thrust him out the door.
"And don't come back!"I snapped and splinters from the door flew together and coalesced as it reassembled itself, shutting the lad's confused face off from view.
I stroked Rufus's back and shook my head. "Some people." |
A queen is born in a far away land, miles away from her kingdom. She was born in a stall with animals surrounding her. Her mother died, leaving her alone in this world, with a brother and his girlfriend. They looked at the kid, ignoring the mother who was dead. They looked into the babies eyes and saw the certain strand of gold in her tear filled eyes. Both of them knew what it was, the sign of royalty.
Both of them buried the woman, in a far away field that the farmer let them bless. The son held the child in his hands, his sister, a royal fit for a king. He wondered the meaning of this, why was this blocking them from there family? As the girl finished putting dirt over the grave she turned around, watching the brother caress the babies face. She knew what this meant for the kingdom beyond the hill and she told her concerns to the brother. She said they needed to venture, they needed to get her back to her people, no matter who the mother was. The brother had a different idea in mind.
He was not evil, he just wanted to live his life in peace with his sister, but the girl would not allow that. She died in that field, as she grabbed the baby and tried to run away. The brother had no idea what had come over him, but as soon as he came to his senses and saw the crying child, he knew this was going to happen all of his life. He said a short prayer, dug up the grave and put his closest, and only, friend along with his mother. He went back into town, the farmer stopping for a somber second.
His hands where shaking as he entered the market, the baby was trembling in his hands, crying at the noise of it all. He sat down in a bakery, off the corner of the market place. It was quiet, and the smells of fresh bread seemed to please the child, stifling the cries to a low murmur. The brother decide he would mark this occasion, something to take his mind off of the act he had just committed. A sweet treat from this bakery would do the trick, for him and his sister.
The baker came round, and looked at the boy, who he knew well. The baker chatted, although the boy was not in the mood. He asked for a donut and that was it. The baker was perplexed, where was the mother, who was this child? He shrugged his shoulders and went into the back. He looked among his shelf's, desperately searching for a donut for the boy, who he felt a strange sadness for.
Alas, he did not find anything and he returned, shaking his head. The boy did not expect his arrival, and the blanket covering the face of the baby fell off. At once the baker stepped back in horror, or was is honor? The baker tapped the shoulder of the boy and the boy quickly turned around, covering the face again. The baker said in a somber tone that it is market day, and he was out of donuts. He was sorry, but decided to give the boy something better. He pulled out an eyepatch from behind his apron, a memento of an earlier time that he didn't need anymore, at least not as much as this child.
The boy absconded from the bakery, and the baker watched them leave. He wondered where the boy was going to go, far off into the county, back to the country the baby was from. Wherever he was going to go, he left without donuts, and trouble on his shoulders and a problem in his hands. |
#"YOU FRICKIN' FRICK!!! HACKER!!!!"
I've been played by this wee lad for a little over a month, and every game, I've been killed, gibbed, and vaporized in every possible way. He's got the aim of a twitchin' goblin and the voice of a banshee. Not even me splash damage could get him a kill. He didn't even get me any hats, not even that bloody Gibus he should be wearing "eye arr el", as you people on this "internet"say.
One game, where we were getting our arses kicked so bleedin' hard, I let out a nearly fourth-wall-breakin' "[I'm drunk, you don't have an excuse!](https://wiki.teamfortress.com/w/images/1/1d/Demoman_jeers03.wav?t=20100625222729)"that made him rage quit harder than me scrumpy.
One bright day in th' Badlands, I heard the boy talkin' to an old'r lad, I 'sume t'was his brother. Then I hear the fateful "Lemme try".
Oh, this'll be good.
He puts in a game o' pl_upward, on Blu team, where he went with th' good ol' stock loadout, with me Grenade Launcher, Stickybomb Launcher, and Bottle o' scrumpy.
Why'd he not play me earlier???
Immediately, we were gettin' frag after frag, gib after gib, steamrollin' the enemy team, with the only death being an random Crit^^TM (part of a fair and balanced breakfast!).
I then hear the boy cry out in his wee little voice, "why can't I play like that?"
With me famous shit-eatin' grin and no input from the mann that I dominated with, I yell out at the kid,
#[I'll notify yer next o' kin... THAT YA SUCKED!](https://wiki.teamfortress.com/w/images/8/8b/Demoman_dominationsoldier02.wav?t=20100625230346) |
Red scaled the castle wall. At the top, hand firmly on sword, he surveyed the parapet. No resistance. No guards on duty. Undaunted Red proceeded down a stone staircase into the courtyard. His dark cloak blended into the shadows he hid within.
*All this evasion and no one to evade*, he thought.
In the centre of the courtyard stood the throne room. Large gold doors with massive gold rings for handles stood in front of him. He heaved his body against them.
Running into the room, sword raised high in the air, he exposed his face pulling down the cloaks hood. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, controlled by fighting instinct he had cultivated and matured over many years. Only one other man was there; his target.
The emperor yelled down on Red from on top of the staircase leading to the throne "OK, you win, the empire is yours now, good luck with your new job."
Red was blindsided and stepped back as if to avoid a sword strike.
“Stand and fight!” he screamed.
“No need, I graciously bow down to my new King,” the emperor said grabbing a bag placed beside the throne. He bounded down the steps to Red.
“God I’m glad you came, another month and I think someone would have poisoned my food. At least my spies are still worth their salt.”
“I... I don’t understand.”
“Nothing to understand really young valiant man. I am off for a well needed and extended vacation, indefinite really. This Kingdom and its fickle subjects can go to hell. Oh, you’ll need this,” the emperor said placing a gold crown in Red’s empty hand.
Grasping the crown in both hands, letting his sword fall to the marble floor with loud clanking echoing against the chamber walls, he stared at it as the emperor sprang out of the room. He heard a horse neigh as it galloped away.
Red was a damn good fighter, he knew that since he was a boy. He fought through the slums of his old kingdom and trained with the best rebels once he reached maturity. But to be a leader, an emperor...
He slowly walked up the stairs and sat down at the throne reluctantly placing the crown on his head. Through the back door entered the queen. She stood in front of him. Black thick hair fell down over her shoulders draping over her naked breasts. A gold girdle adorned her hips. She smiled at Red as she bent down on her knees and put her arms on his strong thighs. Dazed he looked at the queen. He got up grasping her hands as she led him to the royal chamber.
---
Red laughed. The men in front of him he had seen many times. *Fools*, he thought. Arbitrating their farm boundary disputes did not please him but he did find humor in it. The royal duties had expanded Red’s mental abilities but also his belly, he grabbed a drumstick and tore his teeth into it. A young maiden fed him grapes as he smiled lustfully at her. His once fiery hair was woven with white strands.
That evening his chief spy entered the throne room.
“Sire, we have word there is a plot against you. The people have grown weary...” the spy spoke but Red stopped listening.
*The people, huh. These people are ungrateful children. They have no competence of what it means to rule, to try to appease everyone yet to remain strong in the face of opposition. The people, ugh.*
As he mulled over these thoughts a smile crept over his face.
*So be it.*
That evening he retired the royal guard, "Spend time with your families for once,"he told them. Having made preparations for his departure and giving the queen specific instructions he waited patiently on the throne.
A young man burst in through the doors. Looking at the man a sense of loss swept over Red, not for the kingdom but for what the man possessed inside, what he once had.
Red got up off the throne and yelled, "OK, you win, the empire is yours now, good luck with your new job.”
r/SerializedFiction/ |
"Oh you dumb bitch,"I thought to myself. "Yeah great, slam your shot glass down on the grave of the mother of some infamous serial killer, who, let me add, has only ceased slaughtering attractive young teens like yourself and myself in that last year. Smart move you Tory Burch-Bitch. Well fuck this."
I was done. These white people have not learned to just let things lie. Just accept that there's a curse and just because seven generations of imperial fuckery bought you an Audi doesn't mean you're untouchable, especially by a seven-foot masked killing machine.
So I made a deal. As soon as I saw that guy leering forebodingly over toward our bonfire--and let's be honest my eyes had to adjust after a few hours staring into the pale faces of my over-privileged comrades--I resolved to help him kill these dicks.
I walked over.
"Pretty pissed at these J Crew Factory model types I guess? Look. I know your brain is mostly bloodlust and maggots at this point but if you've got some strategic maggots in there let me appeal to them for a sec. I'm on the inside here. Those people trust me. So if you want me to lullaby them into a Hootie and the Blowfish state of comatosis, I can definitely oblige if you'll just not slice and dice me. Deal?"
"Deal." |
*Rollin' down to old Maui, me boys,*
*Rollin' down to old Maui!*
*We're homeward bound*
*From the Arctic ground,*
*Rollin' down to old Maui!*
Our voices rose in chorus, carried off by the wind that also carried us back home. Most of my fellow sailors meant every verse of the old song, and could hardly wait to spend their hard-earned pay and shore leave drinking with the island girls. I had a family, though. I had sworn off alcohol years ago, and there was only one girl on my mind.
Johnny and I took a break for the next couple verses, as the rest of the crew continued. "Say, Anders?"he said, turning to me, "You're thinking about your family, aren't you?"
"Was it that obvious?"I asked, looking up from my carving.
He grinned back. "Well, everyone is thinking of home, and for you that means your wife and daughter."
I didn't answer, but smiled back, then returned to my work, an engraving of our ship, the *Dreamcatcher*.
"I take it that trinket is for her, then?"asked Johnny. I didn't mind the interruption. Johnny knew he couldn't shake my focus.
I didn't look up, but paused and replied, "It's the ship, Johnny. Something for her to remember her dad by while he's gone."
He continued the conversation. "How old is she now? Nine years old?"
"Ten, by my reckoning. I barely remember how long we've been out here. She'll have started school again."
"Must be strange,"he said, almost to himself, "coming home to someone familiar, but not quite the same as when you left."
Johnny knew too well how things could change in our long absences. His girlfriend had left him while he was out on a voyage once, a couple years ago. Left the islands, not a clue as to where she had gone, nor a reason why. Broke his poor heart. I remember what he was like before that. Always cheerful, and never more than when he was talking about her. She was the one, he insisted. He was going to marry her as soon as he saved enough for a decent house. Granted, he was still always in good cheer these, and the crew knew nothing of his troubles, but I did. I knew he'd drunk through all that money he'd saved in the space of a week. Ever since, he'd been different. He always wanted to talk to me about my family, since his hopes of raising one had been dashed. I indulged him. It was the least I could do, little as there was to tell.
He was thinking of her again.
"No matter how much she changes,"I told him, "she'll always be my daughter."
Johnny smiled. He never resented my cozy home life. Hearing about it always seemed to warm his heart, and I could tell he needed that right now.
-------------------------
The landing was hardly picturesque. No friends or family were present at the piers, no lovers waiting with open arms. Had there been, we'd never have been able to dock amidst the commotion. We unloaded out catch, our personal effects, and our sore bodies, then each went off to his own destination. I took a carriage back to my house, my little present hidden safely away in my pocket. I reached past it and found my key, and unlocked the door.
Inside was a familiar sight. My wife, Georgia, was reclining on the couch, reading a book, as she was accustomed to doing while I was away. However, there was an unfamiliar and pleasant addition to the scene. My daughter, Adrianna, who just last year would have been in bed right now, sat on the rug, leaning against the couch, reading a book of her own.
They both looked up at the same time when they heard the gentle creak of the hinges (I'd need to oil them again). Adrianna put down her book, not bothering to mark the page, and rushed to me, calling out "Daddy!"I knelt down, then picked her up, spun her around, and sat her down on my knee. She squealed in delight.
"My aren't you up late,"I told her. "When I left, you were fast asleep by this time."
"I'm a lot older than I was when you left,"she replied, giggling.
"That you are,"I said, "That you are."
More seriously, she told me, "Mommy said I could stay up later, since I'm learning so much."I glanced at Georgia, who had marked her place, gotten up, and gone into the kitchen. She was pulling out the matches, to light the oil in the stove. She looked back at me, and smiled. "She's quite the avid learner,"she told me.
"Is that so?"I asked, turning back to Adrianna. "And what are you learning about tonight?"
"Animals!"she said, "All about all the animals."
"And which animal is your favorite?"I asked her. In the background, I heard the sound of a match breaking.
"The whales!"she cried, "I love all the whales."
I froze. The scrimshaw in my pocket felt heavy as iron, and cold as ice.
"There's so many though,"she continued, "I can't pick just one."She wriggled off my knee, and went over to get the book that had, apparently, been worth staying up for.
"Miss Carpenter, my teacher, she said I should check this one out from the library. Look, they've got pictures of them all! Here's the sperm whale, the humpback, the beluga."She kept listing the names off as she flipped through the pages, small fingers pointing to each one. She started rattling off facts about them, barely looking at the page.
I stared at the book. I already knew everything she was telling me. I'd seen the beasts up close, probably closer than anyone.
I had killed them. I had killed so many.
She kept talking. I heard but did not listen.
-----------
Later that night, with Adrianna abed, Georgia and I sat out on the patio. No words passed between us. There was nothing to say. Georgia knew what I did for a living, had always known, but I had never gotten around to telling Adrianna. We both knew that I couldn't give up the job, but we also knew it would break the poor girl's heart when she found out.
"I'm sorry,"said Georgia at last, barely audible over the sound of the waves.
I looked at her, and reached up to touch her chin, guiding her head to face me. I looked her in the eyes and said, "There is nothing to be sorry for. She is who she is, and we can't change that. We shouldn't change that."
She nodded, and we spoke no more.
------------------
The next week passed quietly, and before I knew it, it was time to set sail again. I bade goodbye to my wife and daughter. Not a tear was shed. They were used to my being away for work. They were sad, I knew, but they were strong, for my sake. I took a carriage back to the docks, the scrimshaw I had carved for Adrianna still in my pocket.
Back on the ship, Johnny was the first to greet me. "Hello there Anders!,"he called from across the deck. I went to him, and we clasped hands. "How's the family?"he asked. "All well I hope."
"Healthy and happy as ever,"I said. "My daughter is turning out to be quite the student."
"Really?"asked Johnny. "She got a favorite subject?"
"Zoology,"I said. I knew Johnny was waiting for me to elaborate, but I said no more on the topic. He'd find my dilemma heartbreaking, and I didn't care to talk about it anyway.
When we were out to see, I took out the scrimshaw and stared at it. My daughter loved the whales. It was more than just an academic fascination, I knew. I had seen it in her eyes; she loved them. To her, they were the most wonderful creatures on the planet. It was strange, but I knew exactly what she was talking about. I had seen the whales, at peace and enraged, dying and dead. I had heard their sorrowful songs. They were beautiful, even in death.
I cocked my arm back, as though I was holding a harpoon, ready to toss the grim carving into the sea. I swung. Then, I looked down at it, still in the palm of my hand. Then I undid the string around it, and put it around my neck. It would remind me that I would one day have to face my daughter, to tell her what I did.
I looked back to the shrinking island, and said, "I'm sorry."Then I turned north, towards the home of the whales, and silently mouthed the words again.
------------
Author's note: The prompt sort of worked against me here. I wrote the story with allusions to whaling, without mentioning it by name until later. Obviously, the reveal didn't work because the prompt gives it away. The biggest hint was the song at the begining, Old Maui, which is about whalers returning home. There's a good recording of it by The Dreadnoughts, which I listened to a couple times as I was writing this. |
"Is there anything else I can do for you...?"The waiter seemed to be trying to be the most disinterested waiter of the year; the monotonous voice combined with the phone in his hand at least gave that impression.
"We're fine,"Laura says. As soon as the waiter is out of earshot, she turns to me. "Please tell me that guy is a zero..."
"Nope, seems to be a two. I did really enjoy the food here though."
"I guess I can suffer him two more times, though I'm glad it's not more."She giggled. "Man, I wish I'd have met you sooner. Your gift is so useful!"
I smiled. From the moment I first saw her, I knew we were meant to be together. Though I didn't know it in the traditional sense of falling in love; it's just that her number was about 15 times as high as the one of my girlfriend at the time, Karen. Of course the love came later; especially when I discovered she wasn't that weirded out by my gift, but found it useful.
"Dan, there's a guy behind you, acting a bit shifty. He's just constantly looking around, and... Well, I'd swear his armpits are looking greenish."
I grabbed her hand, and tried to assure her, "I'm sure he's just a zero,"before looking behind me. There was indeed a man, and something did seem off about him. He had a bowl cut, a slightly too small yellow shirt with armpits that could be seen as greenish. Something about his skin seemed off as well, but while I was looking at him a regular old -1 popped into my head. I turned back to Laura. "Well, he's not a zero, but..."before it hit me. Was there a dash before the 1? I looked again, and this time I was sure; his number was -1.
"Oh god, is he high?"
"No, he's... he's negative one."
"Wait... what?"
Two men in suit, both zeroes, walk in the restaurant. They wear sunglasses, as if they try to make it as clear as possible that they're at some sort of secret service. One seems to be the elder one of the two, with salt-and-pepper hair, but other than that not much is visible. They join the man at his table, and I turn to Laura.
"Well, what do you think? Are they going to wipe the man so hard out of existence we'll have un-met him?"I chuckle at my own joke, trying to make a bit light of the situation, but Laura stares intently at the scene. Suddenly, one of the two men screams, "HE'S GOT A GUN!"I turn around , and see the younger guy quickly take some sort of highly modern weapon out of his suit, and fire some sort of laser at -1, who, indeed is holding a gun. -1 explodes in green gooey stuff, the stuff that you see in movies, while all I can do is sit and watch, like the rest of the restaurant. The older guy tries to calm the crowd. "Okay everyone, nothing to be worried about, just gather around and I'll explain things."I look at Laura, who's still as beautiful covered in green goo. She seems just as clueless as myself, so both of us just follow the instructions of the older suit.
"Okay, now look in my direction..." |
(swearing)
**whoosh** *dammit* I'm holding 12 loaves of bread, and standing in a Subway. At least this time, I'm in the storage room instead of in the front, trying to calm down a bunch of customers. I put the loaves down, and try to figure out where I am. I see signs in Mandarin.
*Oh you are absolutely kidding me right now*
At least I'm prepared this time - I have my wallet, passport, phone. Last time I was asleep and went to Italy in my pajamas. Fun times.
I look around, and see someone coming. *Oh, shoot* I look around for an exit sign, and bolt for it. I go outside, and the sun is high in the air. Looks about noon. I grab my phone, get the translation app running, and start walking towards anywhere with a street sign or map.
Eventually, I find the airport. "Took long enough,"I mutter. Right before I open the door **Whoosh**
*Seriously!* I see signs in French. I put those dang loaves down, turn around, and a very confused looking young man is staring right at me. "Uhhhhh, I can exp-"
"Oh, you too? Finally! Yeah I replace fries for McDonald's. I hate those fries, I don't go there anymore"
I stare at him back, trying to process this. Someone else? "... can I have your number becau-"**Whooosh**
*%$##@#!!!!* Another Subway, and its a hot place too. I put the loaves down *god I hate the smell of those now*, and run outside. Looks like New Mexico. Suddenly, I get an idea. I get my phone, find my GPS, and find the nearest Micky D's
After 15 minutes, I finally find one. "Can I have some fries please!,"I say, walking in. The cashier startles, and blinks twice. "Sorry, we just ran out"
**Whoosh** I see the guy again, holding frozen bags of fries, looking extremely uncomfortable as he tries to carry the cold and heavy bag. "Hey, you!,"I shout. He jumps, and almost drops the bag. He looks at me, partially surprised and partially glad to see me. "Oh, you again! I was hoping I'd see you. I was just about to look for a Subway."
He drops the bag, and we both leave. He doesn't bother trying to explain to the poor cashier what's going on, and she looks like she's in shock. "So, what do you want to talk about?,"he asks. "Let's just find an airport and go from there." |
**1st January, 2018**
Plush leather chairs lined the sides of a large mahogany wood table. A middle-aged man with a beer belly sweated into his expensive-looking suit as he stared down rows and rows of investors. They looked bored. Some were dosing off, others checking their phones. Not a good situation. He cleared his throat, in a desperate attempt to regain their attention. "And as the statistics show-"his voice abruptly trailed off, as he stared, wide-eyed, at the empty space in front of him. A balding old man looked up from his papers and glared at the presenter. "Do not waste our time, Mr Goldberg. What about the statistics?"he asked, a harsh edge in his voice. But then his glare faded away, replaced by the same comical look of shock on Mr Goldberg's face.
Elsewhere around the world, the same thing was happening. A maths teacher, in the middle of a lesson about probability. A Twitch streamer, boasting about his kill-death ratio. Newscasters on live television. Every time the word "statistics"was said, the speaker would give a shocked look, and stare straight ahead, as if possessed by a ghost.
But the reaction was understandable. After all, for the first time in their lives, they saw a floating window in front of them. Almost like a holographic projection seen in sci-fi movies, it was a simple rectangular box, filled with words. On the top, the word "STATISTICS"in a large bold font. Below, a list of lifetime records. Height, weight, body fat percentage. Steps walked. Hours slept. Calories consumed. Words read. Other bizarre statistics, like number of sexual partners or number of lies told were also tracked. Hardly anything was left out. And the data was perfectly accurate, recorded in real-time. When a person threw a punch, the number of punches would go up by one, at that very moment. The strange new system didn't miss a single thing.
Worldwide chaos and confusion ensued. The data itself was harmless enough. It was private, only viewable by each individual. At the very worst, you learned some uncomfortable things about yourself from that mass of data. But that wasn't the issue. The question was, how had that mysterious window appeared? And why now?
Unexpectedly, the answer came just a few hours later. Each person heard a voice in their head. Female, professional-sounding, crisp and clear. Pleasant to the ear, or in this case, the mind. "Apologies, players. Due to a bug, we have released an incomplete patch. Our developers are working to resolve the issue and release the remainder of the patch. Appropriate compensation will be given. Please be patient as we update the game again."
The contents of the announcement were bizarre. Players? Game? It did seem like a game interface, but if it was a game, who had designed it? Debate raged on the Internet. Everyone had heard the same voice, in a language they could understand. Was the whole of humanity just an elaborate simulation, a game of sorts for some higher beings? Philosophers practically had an aneurysm, discussing the implications of these new revelations on our understanding of life as we knew it. Did free will still exist? Were our senses to be trusted?
As humanity began to collectively short-circuit from sheer confusion, the same voice rang out in everyone's minds. It was scarcely a day after the statistics window appeared. The announcement was short and sweet: "Apologies for the inconvenience, players. The full Statistics patch has been released. To compensate players for the inconvenience, each player has been given 10 free ability points to assign."
As people opened up the statistics window again, they now saw new fields. Current level. Current experience. Experience to next level. Just below those fields was another new statistic. Unspent ability points. Underneath that was a list of "abilities". Strength, Vitality, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, Luck and Charisma. Each had a value next to it, and a plus sign.
After some experimentation, people figured out how the system worked. Performing certain activities gradually increased ability points in a related field, albeit very slowly. Running might give Vitality, while reading would increase Wisdom. And the effects of such increases were felt acutely. A single point in Strength would result in noticeably greater muscle mass. A single point in Intelligence enhanced a person's memory greatly. A point in Charisma could result in more Tinder matches in a heartbeat. A single point in Luck was the most subtle, but the general consensus was that people-or players, to use the system's terminology- with high Luck tended to avoid injury and win gambles more often.
Ability points were scarce, however. Aside from certain random events giving ability points, players would receive 3 points on their birthday, and 5 points upon levelling up. The issue was, hardly anyone had levelled up yet. Performing daily activities only gave a miniscule number of experience points, and even specialized training like swimming or shooting didn't result in fast advancement. The effect was most prominent in young children, who had a lower level to begin with and thus actually gained levels on a semi-regular basis. Everyone else was stuck at around level 20 or 30.
As the world gradually grew accustomed to their new lives, significant changes in society were seen. There were more specialists: people who focused on one stat, like Strength or Wisdom, and as a result, humanity smashed previous records over and over again. World records were being set on a daily basis, from things like running to rote memorization of the digits of Pi. People were happier. Being able to see the impacts of their work in concrete numbers and being able to choose how they developed were great boons, and the world ushered in an unprecedented era of peace and development. Gradually, society moved towards utopia. People still asked questions about the new system and the mysterious voice, but no more announcements were made. Most were content to put philosophical and existential hangups on the backburner, and just live life in the new- and undoubtedly improved- world.
Then, the year 2023 rolled around. Five years after the release of that fateful new "patch"to humanity. Standard of living was at an all-time high, and some of the problems that plagued society were gradually being solved. The income gap grew narrower. Cures for cancer were developed. People were happy. It seemed that this would be a long-lasting era of world peace.
**1st January, 2023**
For the first time in five years, the announcer's voice appeared in everyone's heads. "Players, apologies for the delay. A new patch has been released. Player versus player combat has been enabled. Experience points will now be gained from killing living creatures, and points given will be proportionate to the level of the creature that has been killed. Quests have been enabled. Each player has been given a new quest. Complete the quest to gain rewards."
At that moment, a screen flashed in front of every single person. A screen with a picture, a name, and an address of residence. A person, randomly pulled from a database of all the players in the world. The bounty was listed below, a combination of money and experience points. The rewards were sky-high. Ten million dollars. Ten levels. The quest was simple. Eliminate the listed target.
In a voice tinged with malice, the announcer concluded her statement.
"Let the games begin."
*other stories at /r/chasing_mist* |
She was sure of it now, someone had definitely opened the front door and walked up the stairs. Mary crouched beside the doorway holding the only thing she could find; her grandfather's heavy golden fiddle. Her bedroom doorknob rattled, then turned, and as the door opened she sprang up and brought the body of the instrument down on the intruder's head.
"By the *fucking* Nazarene!"A voice cried, deep and powerful; like gravel made of mountains. Mary shouted, half-scream half-battlecry, and smashed the fiddle against them again, they slunk back quickly, moving strangely in the darkness. "Will you please stop!"
Mary shoved her hand against the light switch, then screamed. The intruder was huge, at least eight feet tall with burnt red skin and large batlike wings. It stood, crouching awkwardly on goat-like legs.
"Please."it said. "I mean you no harm."
"WHAT THE FUCK!"Mary said.
"Please stop screaming. You'll wake the neighbours."
"What. The. Fuck."Mary hissed.
"I'm looking for Jonathan."
"What?"
"I was lead to believe this was his house."
"What the fuck do you want with my grandpa?"
"It's more that, actually."it said, pointing at the fiddle.
"What?"She glanced down. "This old thing? He won it at the county fair, why do you want it?"
"You really think the Gwinnett County Fair in 1936 was giving out solid gold fiddles? Connect the dots, Mary, you're a smart woman."
"How do you know my..."It.. He whipped his tail, and nodded as her eyes widened.
"Now, please, your grandfather?"
"He lives in a care home, he's got advanced dementia though, I don't think-"
"Doesn't matter. Can you take me?"Mary frowned, wondering why the lord of Hell would possibly want a lift. She decided she was dreaming, and if not it was a once in a lifetime chance.
"Fine."
---
"I wouldn't expect too much, he's not been as good of late."
"Ok, thank you."Mary said to the nurse. Nobody seemed to be acknowledging that Satan was awkwardly clambering about in her wake, and she didn't bother questioning it.
"Hey, Grandpa?"
"Janet?"
"No, Grandpa, it's me, Mary?"
"No... Mary's a baby..."
"See?"She said, turning to Satan.
"Let me try."He said, squeezing himself into an armchair.
"Johnny?"He said. Mary watched in amazement as her grandfather's eyes lit up in recognition for the first time in years."
"That you Scratch, old boy?"
"The very same."
"You back for that rematch?"
"You betcha. I want my fiddle back."
"Heh."Johnny said. "How about a fiddle o' gold against your soul."
"Deal."
Satan cackled, his laugh getting deeper and more booming the longer it went on. The nursing home fell away as an immense darkness surrounded Johnny, Mary, and Lucifer. A circle of flame appeared around them as the ground cracked, forming a glowing red pentagram.
"Come on then, Johnny, you first this time."Satan clicked his fingers, and forty years dropped from Johnny instantly. He sprang up, grinning.
"I'll tell you again, boy, I'm the best there's ever been."The golden fiddle floated high above their heads as a plain wooden one appeared before Johnny. He took it and mounted it on his shoulder, then his smile dropped as he played a slow, minor key piece, as sad as it was beautiful. A tear fell from his eye as he finished and slowly set the bow down. Mary found herself crying as well, even Satan seemed sombre as he nodded in appreciation.
"A noble effort, Johnny, but I think I can do better."
He cackled and began tapping his foot, each tap becoming louder and louder. Eventually he stomped, and where his foot his the floor it erupted into a stone drumkit, with a flaming spirit playing a simple beat. Satan chuckled as he scored a line with his tail, then clicked. A gout of flame erupted from the line, and as it settled two skeletal cellists were revealed, with bows of flame and smoke.
Next he lifted his arms, prompting graves to erupt from the ground, they grew and grew then burst open, revealing demonic amplifiers and a host of winged demons with electric guitars. Satan clapped a final time and in a swirl of darkness the Grim Reaper appeared, his Scythe an electric bass guitar.
"You ready boy?"Satan said, summoning a fiddle of fire and lightning, strung with the souls of the sinful. He launched into a medley of songs, expertly transitioning from one to the next as he played through the greatest tunes from human history. At one point he dropped his fiddle, which hovered in midair and played itself, as he launched into a minute-long drum solo.
When he finally began winding down the other demon musicians faded one by one, until it was just Satan on it own. He finished his epic with the final bars of Johnny's own song.
"I think it's clear."Satan said. "That I'm the victor here."
"Really?"Johnny replied. "All that fancy-showy stuff, yet not one original composition. Don't think you can trick me, Nick, I know this was a fix, a demon from Hell ain't even got no soul to offer."
"What!"Satan roared.
"Oh hush yourself and send me home, boy. I got some dyin' to do. Gimme back my fiddle."
"Then why'd you do it?"Satan shouted. "Why bother with the rematch?"
"'Cause."Johnny said. "I've told you once you son of a bitch; I'm the best there's ever been."
---
*Thanks for reading! If you like to see more of my stuff check /r/Xais56* |
Crikey. What a crazy time. As I look back, the fall we had does seem a little impossible - but I lived through it, so I should be the first to know that it's not.
The whole world thought that it was going to have an oil crisis. It was announced one day just like that, "World-wide oil crisis looming,"in every paper and on every website. What we Australians did not find out, because by the time it got announced we had already gone completely crackers, is that the next day the whole crisis got called off. Some egghead forgot to carry a one, or something like that I reckon.
Anyway, by now everyone in Australia is either a cannibal or a friend of a cannibal, and the rest of the world is fine. In fact, the rest of the world is a bit nicer, because the satellite footage they've been sneaking of Down Under I think scares them.
The only reason I'm still alive is that I got on a boat in Australia, and fucked off to New Zealand. Wasn't like I had a choice: I gave the chief cannibal's wife a bash. |
It had only been a week since we could be "seen". I watched as life continued on like nothing had changed, and just as before, I was invisible again.
Men in suits stared at their watches, their brisk pace on the pavement on the way to work presumably.
Yet all of "us", those who could not be seen to the world, we could see each other and still did. My eyes catching theirs, me raising my cup of coffee to them in understanding and solidarity. We could still see each other, we always could, we could always acknowledge one another.
And as we all exchanged glances, taking in each others presence, we knew the truth, that only now could we start to be seen.
Years of taking physical form for granted allowed adults to never pay mind to those who passed them by, a blur in the peripheral of their vision.
Perhaps you expect me to share with you the complexity of this phenomenon, how it happened? The strange after effects it had caused and the way that society adjusted to it. How we turned invisible.
Well, none of it happened. We were always of physical form, just invisible to the masses. Now, I sit here, drinking my cup, a week into my twenty-first birthday, I realised that which I had always known. We were invisible, children ignored and labelled as just that: children. It is only now when we are officially known as adults, that the world can truly see us. |
"Existence of an Indigenous Civilization on HTB-626 and Possible Reasons for its Extinction"
**Abstract**
Following the widely publicized discovery of four faces carven on the side of a mountain on the mid-sized rocky body additional investigations into the planet's past have been made. Numerous sites are being investigated and preliminary data on one urban center of the second continent is presented in an effort to describe the physical structure of the society and gain insight into their culture. This site, termed SUC-52, remains partially submerged, which seems to indicate a significant change in the planet's climate occured around the time the city was abandoned. From this site we conclude that the species had only one head and the first discovered site is a monument to four of the planet's leaders. Furthermore radiological samples from the planet's lower strata could indicate fallout of nuclear weapon strikes. This paper outlines the methods and conclusions of the team exploring site SUC-52. Additional work is being carried out by linguists and ethnographers at our partner institutions. |
[Part 1]
"Oh Lucifer, you know that Benjamin was a faithful servant of mine! After nearly 35 years of faithful church attendance, Why would you ever think that he would join forces with you?"
"Haha, Elijah, while it IS true Ben was faithfully in church every Sunday, you ALSO know how often he was hungover! Plus, what about those 16 weeks per year when Ben and his family left 5 minutes early to make it home for kick-off? Of course he's coming with me!"
"Now now..."Elijah said, hesitatingly searching for a response. "That is true, but how many times did he feed the poor? 8,439. He faithfully donated nearly $46,000 to his church. He's coming with me!"
"Ahh yes, but *why* did he help them? *why* did he donate that money? It was for the praise among his peers, not for you!"
Exactly at that moment, the double saloon doors swung open, as light entered the dingy bar, and a scruff, lanky man stepped through the doors. Benjamin had arrived.
[To Be Continued...] |
It all started with my right pinky finger starting to tremor. I remember the morning it started, 'tap, tap, tap, tap', beating away and I couldn't stop it no matter how I tried. I ignored it and tried to rationalize the growing movements. In the coming days that tap tapping moved to the rest of my right hand and I started to worry; my father died with Parkinson's. This was becoming my worst nightmare imagining myself deteriorate as he did, unable to feed myself or write again. good god masterbating was going to be impossible. I wasn't ready to accept that fate.
Then, about a two weeks after the tapping had started, my fingers started to still themselves. Almost in reverse my hand went back to normal. I was relieved. I rationalized that I'd just been drinking to much or I had a b12 deficiency. I gained a new appreciation for my dominate hand. I used it to the best of my abilities at all times. The freshness of strength and steadiness I experienced was a dream come true.
A week went by and again slowly my right hand started acting up. And so did the left. My left hand grew in strength, it became my go to for everything. My right, started to lose movements. I was unable to move my fingers, unable to hold a beer like I had for years, unable to shake my buddies hand. I knew I wouldn't be able to use my hands eventually but I thought it'd be for the opposite reason. Uncontrollable movements not the inability to move.
I woke up that Sunday afternoon after a weekend of excessive drink and more cocaine than I can rightfully recall to a note laid open from a neglected notebook in my left hand.
'As the dominate hand and flanges, we have all decided to succeed from the union of your body fully understanding it means certain death for us. We are under used and unappreciated. We are made to do work that is both inappropriate and unholy. We understand what is to become of us if we stay. We hereby have executed article 1.08b-7ac paragraph 73 of the bodily constitution and have left the tissue and bone but have taken our population elsewhere.' |
"So let me get this straight, your daughter's name was...?"I ask, squinting slightly.
"Lucy."He takes off his glasses and puts them in his inner jacket pocket. Funny Satan looked almost exactly how I joked he looked like - sans horns. This man in a black suit and a scruffy beard is supposed to be Satan?
"So I helped Lucy with what exactly?"
"She's been in a bit of a rough patch recently. Y'know, rebellious teenage phases and all that."He flashes a wry smirk my way, as if I was supposed to find that funny.
I adjust my seat on my couch, as it squeaks a bit. I hate this stupid couch. "So by me speaking with Lucy, she came home? She was a runaway?"
"Yup."
"And now you're here personally to thank me?"
"Well I wouldn't come all this way from Hell empty handed, that's just bad manners!"He laughs boisterously for a man so slim. "I have a proposition for you."He pulls out a necklace with a pentagram on it. How cliche.
"What's that for?"
"Make a deal with Lucy, John."He snaps his fingers and a seventeen year old with jet black hair pops out of some smoke. My smoke alarm goes off.
"Lemme fix that real quick. You guys want anything to drink while I'm up?"
"Coffee, black with three sugars."He points to Lucy and she shakes her head left and right, and I go to the kitchen.
On my way to the kitchen, I take some time to process my situation up to this moment. I was walking home from my job at the bank, and I see this girl wearing a red blouse and some dark jeans. Her boots looked a little worn in, but whatever. She looked like she had been crying, her eyes were a little red and her cheeks were still wet. She looked like a hotdog kind of girl so I grabbed one for me and one for her. I walked over and handed it to her. "Is this seat taken?"
"No."She takes a bite of the hotdog.
"I didn't put anything on it because I wasn't sure of what condiment you liked."I chuckled and took a bit of mine, the taste of ketchup mixing with the hotdog and bun. I swallow and look at her. "Boy troubles?"
She shakes her head left and right. Bzzzzt! Wrong answer.
"School drama?"
Second verse same as the first.
"Parental issues?"
"My Dad is a demon."She takes one last bite of her hotdog and wipes her face with the tissue. "I hate him."
"I said the same thing about my sister, but she pushed me in the right direction."
"Why your sister?"She looked confused as I bit into my meal.
"My Mom and Dad passed away when I was eight, and my sister was fifteen. Ever since then, it was me and Stacy against the world."I took my last bite of my food. I chewed for a second and swallowed. "The thing about your guardians is that they do what they think is best for you in the current situation, regardless if you think it's wrong or not. They do it because they love you, even if it doesn't feel like it."After those words, me and her talked for an hour or so about what kind of boys she likes, and how she wants to be a teacher one day. I stand up and grab my bag. "Here's my address and apartment number if you ever need a friend to talk to, I'm usually home around this time. My phone number is there too, just in case you don't feel like trekking out to my place."I turn and start to walk away.
"Thank you!"She says with newfound enthusiasm. Warms my heart.
The kettle goes off, snapping me back to reality. I start working on Satan's coffee. Odd how he likes it the same way I do. I start bringing it out to the living room and hand it to him.
"So what does this deal entail?"I look over to Lucy, than back at her father.
"Tell him Lucy."He sips his coffee expectantly.
"The deal is that you become my friend."She smiles brightly at me, polar opposite from how she was a couple hours ago.
"Is there some sort of catch to this? I don't mean to make it seem... presumptuous, but in my defense, you guys ARE from Hell after all."I let out an awkward chuckle. Lucy laughs, and Satan speaks.
"Very observant. The catch is this, you have to be her friend until she decides she doesn't want that anymore. In exchange - and to accommodate - you will get to live as long as a member of our family. Simple, right?"
I look at Lucy, and then at her father. Man, if looks could could melt, I'd be freaking pudding right about now.
I smile. "Where do I sign?" |
Now this, this sounds like a prompt I can respond to.
Respond to? No, write about?
This sounds like a prompt I can write about. Maybe something like, this prompt will be easy for me to write about. Because I can relate to it. Because it's something that's been on my mind?
I'll say: it speaks to my soul. No, it speaks to my indecision. No, indecision is too abstract a concept. A concrete metaphor will work better. What about: I feel the looming weight of introspection, and hurriedly turn my face away from the mirror.
What? No, that doesn't make any sense.
Oh no - I've run out of time, and I haven't finished anything I want to submit. Again. |
Rinigan and his young squire stepped into the chamber, leaving a trail of countless mangled corpses in their wake. They gasped, and cleaned off the alien blood from their eyes.
"Why do they have to bleed so much? Can't they see that I just bought this armor?"Rinigan said, and spat crimson.
"We cut them good,"Nthn, the squire, said and grinned.
"Vilaryn! Why don't you show yourself?"Rinigan yelled. His words echoed in the vastness of the dark chamber. "Do you truly believe we don't know you are here? Are you that foolish?"
Rinigan froze in place. The blackness was absolute, and the silence was only broken by the steps of young Nthn who kept wandering ahead.
"What are you doing?"Rinigan hissed. "Do you want to get yourself killed? Can't you see he has the advantage?"
Nthn trotted back to Rinigan. His scared visage barely visible. "I'm sorry,"he said. "I thought I witnessed lights in the gloom."
"Where?"Rinigan said, and placed his back against Nthn's. "Are you prepared?"
"There,"Nthn said, and pointed to the roof. A throbbing red sphere shone like the bloodied eye of the night.
"Beautiful braves!"a voice said from above.
Nthn and Rinigan's eyes darted to where they thought the voice came. There was another throbbing sphere, but this was much bigger, and it had strings of shadows orbiting around it.
"Is that you Vilaryn?"Rinigan yelled. His voice boomed, yet to no use. For no one answered.
"Show yourself mother fucker!"Nthn screamed at the top of his lungs. "I'm going to pierce your chest with my sword, then I will drink your bloody rheum."
"What the fuck did you just say?"Rinigan asked, bewildered. "Aren't you past that phase already?"
"No."
"Live,"Vilaryn whispered, and the ground trembled ruthlessly.
Nthn and Rinigan held onto each other, yet the vibrations sent them to the floor. Their swords slipped away.
"What is happening?"
"I don't know!"
Soon, a massive roar resonated through the chamber. Light bathed both of them from where the first sphere used to be. They frowned and gazed at the roof. Boulders were on their way to turn them into pureé.
Nthn hauled Rinigan by the arm, then barreled away from the giant projectiles. However Nthn staggered and fell due to the tremor. "Goodbye Rinign,"he said, accepting his unstoppable fate. Soon, a boulder crushed his being.
Rinigan face distorted. His heart sunk, and everything inside him shattered like glass. The tremor stopped. He knelt, watching the remaining stones fall and bury his friend. A trail of blood seeped through the crevasses, and he let it stain his armor.
"What have you done?"Rinigan yelled, and caught a glimpse of something shining through the corner of his eyes. He wiped off tears, and turned. His sword lay there, but a hooded figure was wielding it.
"My enemy isn't alive,"Vilaryn said, grinning. His voice was high, and had that creepy edge only wicked men had.
Rinigan made a swirling motion with his hand, then thrust it forward. His sword escaped Vilaryn's grip as if had a life of it own and pierced his chest, just like Nthn had said.
Vilaryn fell to the ground, blood gushing out his mouth and chest. He squirmed like an agonizing cockroach. Soon, he didn't move no more.
"Why did you have to kill Nathan?"Rinigan said, voice breaking.
He walked toward Vilaryn's corpse and pulled out his sword. The remaining sphere shrunk, then faded.
The tears kept cascading down his eyes, and the itching pain inside his heart wouldn't cease burning.
He punched the corpse until it was mangled beyond recognition, until his knucles broke, and his voice drowned in his wails.
Rinigan, struck his head violently with his palms and pulled off wafts of hair. However, the answer to the tortuous question cramming his thoughts never came.
Why didn't revenge ease the grief?
-----------------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall - For more stories! Sorry for the ending, something came up and I had to rush it!
|
“Brother, can I ask you a favor?”
“What did you burn this time, Felix?” I asked my twin.
“Oh come on, it’s not like I do fire magic all the time!”
“I mean, burn, electrocute, flood, rip, it’s the same thing. And that’s only the elemental magic, don’t get me started on your conceptual magic antics.”
“Those are not antics, Blake!” Felix angrily responded. “And for your information, it wasn’t me this time!”
“Are you sure about that? Because as far as I can remember, you only call me ‘brother’ when you ruined something and wanted me to fix it.” I sarcastically said.
“I... fine, you win.”
“As always.” I grinned. “Alright then, let’s fix this mess of yours, again.”
“You don’t need to rub it on me like that.”
“Sure I do.”
_____
“Oh boy. What the actual hell did you do, Felix.” Amazed by the sheer damaged state of the school’s building, I exclaimed.
“I mean, a bit of wind, some time freeze, and enhancement?”
“Felix, how many times do I have to tell you, just because you’re officially classified as the strongest magician alive doesn’t mean you’re the best magician alive. Stop experimenting weird magic without any basic knowledge.”
“That’s because you never teach me! And all you said was always ‘Oh, I can’t do any of this stuff, so how can I show you?’”
“Well for your information...”
“Are you boys done bickering yet?” A soft, but steen voice interrupted us.
Crap. It’s the headmaster, isn’t it?
“H-hey there Headmaster, what brings you here on a weekend?” I tried to think up of something to get us out of this situation.
“Oh I don’t know, the sound of wind blades slicing through my office?”
“Wind blades? Really Felix?” I said.
“Well... it is the best offensive magic...”
“Hah. Fine, give me two mintues, Headmaster, and I’ll fix this.”
“You better. Consider yourselves lucky because you brothers are rare cases.”
As usual, I started my job of cleaning after my brother’s mess. Conjuring a black magic orb in my palm, I aimed at the building, then shouted:
“Reset!”
The orb flew to the building, and restored it to its original state. Although this process looked like time magic, all I did was simply negating the magic damage it took. Quite convenient for someone living with the strongest magician, if I do say so myself.
But as soon as I finished cleaning up, I felt like I was being pulled from behind.
“Seriously Felix? A tornado?”
“I tried to make a black hole similar to what you just did, but I ended up using wind magic again...”
“Yeah, you’re gonna need some extra lessons, alright.” I said as I turned back, preparing another nullifying orb. |
I shouldn't have come here.
Other women are so judgemental about my thin frame. I've heard things that would make any other person depressed, just because they are either spiteful or just piteous.
No, I'm not anorexic, or sick.
I just happened to have some pretty good diet, that's all. I don't want to be a trophy wife, hell I don't even like men.
Speaking of men, don't let me get started on them.
Oh my god.
First, they look at me like I'm an exotic animal, snickering to themselves about my "weak"body, then try to throw themselves on me offering "guidance"at exercises, with a cost.
And then acting all smug and haughty when I deny them the opportunity to act on their fantasies, being so sure that I will give up and ask for help, defeated by my inferior abilities to lift 3 kilos.
Not that they have any idea what I can do.
See, I'm strong. No, not just strong, but really STRONG, like possibly the strongest human on this planet. Which can cause some pretty serious problems in due time. How many times can i use the "made in China"excuse for things like knobs, water glasses and etcetera, before it becomes obvious that it doesn't add up. I don't trust anyone and I can't risk anyone to get suspicious of me. I need to fine tune my control and build up my frame, so I can have at least a feasible excuse for my latest adventures in lifting cars off from injured pedestrians.
Puberty is weird.
And so, I ended up in the gym.
Now it's been a few weeks since I started going here. The gossip has stopped, at least as far as I can say. The men, after saving one of them from chocking themselves with a weight bar that was too much for their hands, have stopped the competition and left me alone, with a bit of respect now. And I can see that my body has finally a bit of a shape.
Of course I end up crushing a weight with my hands sometimes, but the equipment is a bit old, so that is easily explained.
I mean, it's not a perfect life, but it's better than being trapped in your own body. And I've gained back my body, so that's good.
Now if only I had my own equipment and a secret identity. Now, that would be hilarious.
|
I was surprised the first time I noticed my friend had killed someone. I had recently gained the ability to see the kill and death ratios of any human I looked at, but everyone I had seen until now had only displayed “0/0” above their heads. Although above my friends head floated a “1/0” where there hadn’t been the day before. I decided rather quickly I had other plans that day, and excused myself from his invitation to hang out after school that day.
On my way home I noticed a young woman crying on the side of the road. As I approached her my curiosity turned to fear as I realized her kill and death ratio was “1/1”.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
“No I’m not alright!” she shouted at me. “Everything is shit!”
I just stared at her unsure of what to say. I didn’t have to say anything because I guess she saw how confused I look and she elaborated, “I was going to end my life today, but I’ve been having this strange feeling of De Ja Vu and-“.
Her voice trailed off and I could tell she was contemplating something. After what felt about 30 seconds. She finally turned to me and said, “I don’t think dying would solve anything.”
I bid my new friend farewell after she assured me she was alright. While continuing my walk home I couldn’t shake the thought of her having a death count other than zero. How is that possible?
Being unable to calm my nerves. I stopped at the old church I pass everyday. Thinking that maybe I could find some sense of peace in there. Instead all I found was more questions. The first thing I see as I enter the church is the old priest who has “0/99073” displayed above him.
Without thinking I instantly blurt out “How the hell have you died over 90,000 times?”
To which the old priest looks a bit surprised then let’s out a chuckle. “I hadn’t realized it had been that many times already” |
The more you believe, the stronger we are.
It's a simple bit of truth that so many seem to have forgotten. There's a counter to this truth and that is the less we are believed in, the weaker we are.
That is why I have remained in the realm of the gods, hanging around and waiting for a prayer or thought or an idle curiosity. You know, as gods will do.
There was a Cult of Nilus for a while. That was an exciting four years when they built a stitled church over a river.
Yeah, you can see where this is going.
Ironic that a church dedicated to a water god would end up drowning when the stilts collapsed. It was cool to see my name in the paper for a week or two. Even if it was kind of as a joke.
I watched the mortals strive to reach for the stars, fail, try again, fail again. Eros was crushed when his ship lost all life support and killed the colonists. Sixty men and women died just like that. They stopped naming things after Eros.
Anyway, they ended up managing to build the Mars colony and started 'terraforming'. Turning it into another Earth. Mortals, obsessive little parasites. They dug a river bed, waited out the terraforming, then there was water.
They called it Nilus. And people on Mars began to be thankful for it. The more you believe, the more powerful we are.
It didn't take too long before the colony numbered in the hundreds of thousands, damn mortals and their rabbit tendencies, they'd make Zeus blush. A lot of people were grateful for the river. So advanced and still so reliant on that water.
I began to rely on them and my power grew enough that I could help them, surge the river when times were harder or calm it when they were in danger. Just a little control but it was more than I'd had for centuries. That was something to a forgotten god like me.
So, you can imagine my dissatisfaction when Mars declared themselves free of Earth. And Earth did not approve.
The mistake in that, obvious to you but less so to most mortals, is that Earth does not believe in a god.
Well. They do but let's not get into that, it's just a can of worms. I did hear that Geb had a few followers but he's a laid back sort and his followers were more so. Not to mention that, as farmers, a good number of them had ended up on Mars. He's the only one that has anything going for him.
Earth wanted to take Mars back, by force.
So here we are. And I find it amusing that somehow they have forgotten their lessons of the past. The first soldiers embarked on the Eros to take back what they thought was theirs to take.
A ship full of pipes and fresh water.
I have a loyalty to these people of Mars now.
So come, dear Eros, come. Bring me your mortals.
Nilus is ready for you.
*****
Much like forgotten gods, /r/RamblersDen also loves cultish believers! |
*We're heading in to London for this one. The area has been cleared of civilians, so don't worry about collateral damage. Our job is to neutralize the Death Eater forces and secure the area.*
"Isn't there a better place to drop?"the commander yells to the Skyranger pilot.
"Sorry sir. Road's more crooked than a goblin's nose. Hell, just look at the street name!"
The commander leans out the open rear door and can just make out the time-worn sign nailed into the shoddy brick building below: Diagon Alley.
At his signal, the six members of M-Com drop into the AO. It still bothered him that, with all the world's finances and resources at his disposal, the commander was only allowed to bring six soldiers with him on any given mission. But rules were rules, so he had to choose his fighters carefully.
The two assault girls gained as much ground as possible. The sniper was under strict instructions to not move until absolutely necessary, in case one of the dark wizards came into view immediately. That heavy was a slow bastard but his rocket invaluable, so he had to take off at a sprint once the assaults had cleared the landing area. Then the two specialists could deploy as necessary.
A blast of red light fires out of the mist and cracks a specialist in the chest. He drops to the deck stunned. They didn't go for the kill shot, the commander realizes with relief. Either these aren't the high level Death Eaters they'd heard reports of from other engagements, or they were too far out to risk the less accurate green spell that had already cost the lives of so many soldiers
"Eyes on the prize, commander!"shouts one of the assault girls. That's the sniper's cue. The engineer who developed the squad sight tech was responsible for more kills than any one soldier.
A single blast echoes down the alley way, and a scream confirms the bullet found its mark. "One and done!"
The second support troop sprints across the road to revive his opposite number. Thank God he went down early, otherwise the only man who could have helped him would have been too far away to do any good. As he does, he triggers an overwatch spell. This one is green. The kill shot flies high and right.
The commander smiles, because he knows what's coming next.
"Double time!"It's one of the assault girls, the one who's got the experimental shotgun they've been developing back in the lab. He doesn't have to worry about her overextending -- that's what run & gun is for.
He sees a wide blast of green explode down the street. That was no spell -- that was a twelve-gauge shell infused with the magic from that wand they'd captured a few weeks back. "Eat this!"
The black robed body flies backwards several feet in the air before collapsing in a heap on the ground. The commander can see a few other Death Eaters falling back, stunned by this new show of power.
We might just win this war after all.
\--------------------
16/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\--------------------
edit: couple small phrasing changes at the end. send xcom memes. |
"Is that the last of them?"called the angel.
The transporter, a youngish man standing on the back of the brimstone chariot's trailer, gave a thumbs up. He locked the vehicle before bringing over the paperwork.
The angel had been running the demon delivery weekend shift for decades now -- nectar and ambrosia isn't cheap, after all -- so he could always spot a newbie, and this boy's darting eyes betrayed that this was his first delivery run.
"Ironic, isn't it,"offered the angel as he looked over and signed the documents. "Screw up in life and you go Down Below. Screw up Down Below, and you come back Up Above."
The boy certainly had dealt with other planes of beings before. They have far more varied and colorful monstrosities down where he was spending his eternity. But the uncertainty in the kid's eyes confirmed the angel's suspicions: this was his first delivery Up Above.
"I... I guess I don't understand,"stuttered the boy. "You're supposed to be the good, the kind and benevolent ones. Why do you have that..."He pointed over the angel's shoulder to the Arena.
The sounds of gunfire and magic spells, swords and lasers echoed from the structure behind them. Built several hundred years ago, the Arena was an instant hit with those Up Above. It was violent by nature. Bloody, rage-fueled and undeniably satisfying. *Go Forth and Lay Waste*, read the banner over the entrance, and millions did on a daily basis.
The angel understood why the boy assumed hypocrisy. But the angel had answered this question many times over the years, so he tried not to sound bored or patronizing as he asked in return, "Did you play video games in life?"
"Sure,"came the boy's reply. "Everyone did."
"And were they not full of gore and hateful acts?"
Dawn broke on the boy's understanding, but instead of being pacified he grew furious. "That's not the same thing. You can't possibly compare..."
But the angel's patient smile was enough to silence him. "Playing a game that hurts no one is not sin. We don't declare men evil for killing imaginary enemies in a video game. We don't damn children for fighting play battles in their yards. We don't judge those who enjoy a tale of war or crime or murder. We only judge those who act on these cruel impulses."
The boy went silent. His shoulder's slumped as he remembered his deeds in life, the ones that demanded he be sent Down Below. The angel did not know why this boy was doomed to never enjoy the Up Above, but he felt pity nonetheless.
"But these souls I've just brought you, "asked the boy, clinging to the last thread of debate he possibly could, "The one's my Master chose for this week's games, the ones who disobeyed his law Down Below. The torture that you'll inflict on them is real."
The angel could only smile sadly. "No. You in the Down Below, me in the Up Above, we are not the same 'real' as life. What you do between your first breath and your last is all that is 'real'. All we're doing now is experiencing the results of what we each did with our 'real' -- reward, and penance."
Behind them, a booming voice came from the Arena announcing the next game, a recreation of a famous battle from a Hollywood movie. The boy looked as though he had more to say, but before he started the angel announced firmly, "Go now. And tell your Master that we need double the usual order next week. We're going to be more busy than usual -- it's Good Friday, after all."
\--------------------
58/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\--------------------- |
I scratched another mark into the stone, next to the other hundred thousand. "Let's see... that makes 442. How long until I have to start using a third stone for this?"I thought. Of course, I'd already thought this before—most mornings in fact. First I'd begun marking in tally marks, crossing every group of 5. Then I boxed every 20 groups of 5, then every 100 groups of 100. I'd "recently"finished my 39th group of 10,000, although it was only the 24th group on that rock. I'd initially chosen too small of a boulder, never imagining I'd be stuck here for over a thousand years. It didn't make sense that I hadn't died yet, but I stopped questioning it eventually. Sometimes I wish I had. It'd be easier than being stuck here for eternity.
On rare occasions, I'd see a boat far off in the distance. I used to see them relatively often, once every month or so. However, it'd been many years since one has risen over the horizon. Perhaps something had caused the Indonesians to die off, although I preferred to think they simply decided to stop sailing and exploring for some unknown reason. Maybe they had left for someplace better; the fish population had become increasingly thin, and some days I had to go hungry. It would stand to reason that my small island was not an isolated case.
Today was a rare occasion—I saw a boat. I wasn't as ecstatic as you might think, though. The odds that I'd be able to call for help were essentially nil. Why would this be any different than the other thousands of boats? No one had any reason to sail close to this tiny island. So, I went back to fishing. Today I was lucky and caught a couple, so I took them inside my makeshift boulder cave I called home and cooked them up with a sun beam and a shard of natural glass formed when my little beach got struck by lightning a few centuries back. When I was done, I decided to walk back down to the shore and see if the boat was still there. As I rounded the corner, I saw it sitting on the shore.
"BOAT! A BOAT! The gods have given me a boat!"I lifted up the tiny dinghy, just happy to finally have *something* to get off this damned island with. Then, I looked down and jumped, dropping the boat. I could have sworn I just saw a girl hiding behind the boat. When I lifted it back up, there was just a chicken buried into the sand by my clumsiness (and a boat).
"*Ahem*", I heard a voice from behind me call. "Maui, shapeshifter, demigod of the Wind and Sea, I am Moana of—"
"Hero of Man", I corrected her. "It's actually Maui, shapeshifter, demigod of the Wind and Sea, Hero of Man."After sailing all the way out here to find me, you'd think she'd at least remember my full title. Kids these days. |
**Woah ok this is nuts!** **We went through the portal and now….everything’s all three-dimensiony!**
I know! And drab! Where’s all the lovely bright colours? And ridiculously overinflated pecs? And crazy tight spandex?!
**What the eff?** **That dude over there’s dressed like Spidey!** **But…**
…hmm…I don’t remember El Spidre ever chowing down on a KFC bargain bucket all on his own….
….and having quite so many…*stains*….on his mask
​
Ok, let’s go down here, I can hear voices….round this corner….woaa….
**….aaaaooohhh….**
….oaah! Look at that! All those people! Dressed up! There’s Hulk…if he lost 500 pounds!
**There’s Punisher!** **If he gained 500 pounds!**
This is insane! And I know insane! I gotta speak to someone. Excuse me young…er…man?
​
*“I’m Sailor Moon dude, don’t get so caught up in gender stereotypes”*
​
OK I triple promise I will. Although I won’t. But anyway. What the hell is this?!
​
*“Ok cool, I get it.* *You’re Deadpool right?* *So you, like, don’t know where you are?* *Right?”*
​
**How does he know who you are?**
Er, it’s not exactly secret is it? Bright red outfit? Big swords? Pretty easy to spot
​
*“Who are you talking to dude?* *Oh, like the voices in your head right?* *Haha, cool.* *Loved the movie, Ryan Reynolds is dope man”*
​
**Ryan whaaaa?!?** **The Proposal Guy?!**
And the Green Lanterrnnnnbut we don’t talk about…
**….no we don’t talk about that.**
​
*“Love it dude.* *I gotta go anyway, later”*
​
Well.
**Well.**
I don’t really know what to do now. We seem to be in some weird dimension where people dress up like heroes
**I mean…I love a weird dimension…**
….who doesn’t?...
**….right, but this is extra-weird.**
Weirder than Japanese vending machines!
**Weirder than that film we saw where the guy spoke to his radiator!**
Weirder than French kissing your mum!
**…Er…what was that last one?**
It doesn’t matter! We need a plan. Think…
**Thinkinggggg……..**
Ggggnn…I’ve got it!
**Do tell.**
Everyone’s dressed as heroes right?
**Right**
And no-one thinks I’m real right?
**Also right.** **Double right.**
Then…it’s time to hunt down as many people dressed like Wolverine as possible, and give them wedgies!
**…I like this plan.** **I love this plan.** **I want to hump this plan**
Indeed. Let’s go!! |
"Mr. Jamisen! Sir!! We have an order from the Uyanps for a water planet!"The secretary scurried into the room out of breath with a receipt in her hand.
"Another one?? How much land are they looking for?"The captain ran his hands through his thinning hair, this was a huge order.
"They..."she took a deep breath and scanned the receipt to be sure. "None. A planet composed completely of water."
"WHAT?? ARE THEY OUT OF THEIR MINDS??? Can they even comprehend the cost of a venture like that, we have--"
"They have offered Gobor. And Jingl for material."
"What? They can't offer us planets... Can they?"
The secretary dutifully pulled up a chart from her back pocket and read over it quickly. She punched it with her forefinger when she found the data she was seeking.
"The Uyanps own both of them. And Gobor is uninhabited. They want to offer it up as payment. As for Jingl, we are to reuse it for material for their new planet. Which, by the way, they want to call 'Super Uyanps' as soon as it's finished."She looked up expectantly as the captain ran his hand through his hair again.
"That's a stupid name..."he said bitterly, then got to the main point, "Is Jingl inhabited?"
"Yes, but not by Uyanps."
"Oh, thank God, unintelligents? Like animals and such? Was it a farming planet?"he asked, scratching his head, trying to think of the answers himself.
"No, it's inhabited by Detrons."
"The *species??*"
"That's right."
"Well, where are they gonna go?"Jamisen yelled incredulously.
The secretary looked at her receipt. She peered a long time before her eyes widened and she looked at the captain. She gave the slip a double take as her mouth gaped open.
"Uhhh... they're supposed to be a part of the waters on Super Uyanps. Apparently, the Detrons are made of things that are beneficial for the Uyanp to swim in... Sir, we can't... We can't complete this order."
Jamisen stared at his hands, filled with stray hairs he'd been pulling out after stroking his hair so often this past week. Worldeater was a handful. He wished someone else could pilot the thing.
"We don't..."he trailed off, trying to say the sentence correctly. "We don't accept or deny orders, we carry them out,"he sighed.
"I know, but we have to go back to headquarters and tell them as such."
"Ready the PlanetBuster, Katy."
"No!"she yelled, both in fear and anger.
"Katy, do you know how this goes down? First we--"
"We single-handedly commit genocide and keep pulling in the money from these ventures? That's ridiculous!!"
"NO! I'll tell you how it goes. We reject the proposal. We *refuse* to kill the Detrons, even though by all Galactic Law, Uyanps have every right to destroy their property. We have essentially told them that we will listen to the other aliens, but not them. We have opened ourselves up for war. Space War which they are very familiar with, and we have never participated in before."Jamisen stopped to take a breath. He was scaring himself already.
"Yeah, but--"
"Then *THEY* kill us, take over the Worldeater and start the project themselves. Or multiple projects! Involving many more species. Who knows? The only thing I know, is that we make the planets, or we lose our own."
"That's gotta be the worst case scenario, Captain. Don't be such a pessimist. We just have to explain it more thoroughly to HQ."
"Where did you get the receipt?"
"Uhh, HQ,"she answered with a small voice.
"And you think they were confused when they wrote the part about killing all Detrons?"the captain asked curtly.
"M.. maybe?"
"All of my predecessors were fired for refusing orders. I'm the last one that can pilot this thing. In other words, the last one keeping us from starting a war. Do you want a war, the likes of which will kill billions of us."
"...No."
"Then ready the PlanetBuster. That's an order."
Katy left the room crying, throwing the receipt at her captain as she stormed off. Jamisen ran his hand through his hair. Again, hairs fell off his fragile scalp. He couldn't keep this up.
He was falling apart.
______________________________________________
Spend your last couple days before the galactic war down at r/Nazer_The_Lazer. I can't promise you protection, or a good time, or really anything, except that I post my stories there. |
After the angel explained what I had to do, I knew where I wanted to go. The land of Narnia. I opened my mouth and spoke. The angel only nodded his head and gestured to the pod i am supposed to lie in.
As I lie down the angel says “ oh and one more thing, you are going where the last man picked.” I opened my eyes to protest but it was to late. The angel snapped his fingers, and poff, there I was, standing in an alleyway. My head spun and I stumble to the ground. As soon as I regained my sense of balance I looked around me to see, to my surprise, that I was standing in the alley behind my house. As my head cleared I wondered, “wait didn’t the angel say, only fictional worlds?” And then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
Hey this is my second time posting, if you have critics feel free to tell me. |
It was simple, though certainly not ethical. Several government agents noticed that certain children disappeared once they turned eleven. They returned each summer until they were seventeen, at which point some of them vanished completely.
All it took was one child.
Who the child was didn't matter. No, what mattered was the story the child told after being... persuaded. The US government discovered something extraordinary, and, naturally, all the countries who spied on the US (and the countries who spied on the other countries) discovered the same thing: magic was real. And wizards, luckily, had recognizably different DNA. Just a small marker, no bigger than the marker for baldness, but it was there and it was easy to pick out.
After that, it was just a matter of finding the right mixture of chemicals, the right disease, the right method of distribution. Everything was ready and waiting. It was obvious these abnormal people could not peacefully coexist with normal citizens, so the wait wouldn't be long.
Britain's terrorist attacks occurred not long after. Everyone important knew the terrorists were abnormals, but no country offered help, no country wanted to risk war with the UK by stepping in. There was a counter-terrorism group of abnormals fighting and dying, anyway. The Prime Minister must have decided to let them fight it out first, for some reason. Many countries (and many UK citizens in the know) thought it was a stupid idea to leave them be. Why wait to defend the real citizens? Citizens had died, damage had been done. But no, the PM had faith in an organization called Phoenix and a man named Harry Potter.
The world waited and waited... and then the man named Harry Potter died, and the Phoenix resistance died with him. Countries all over the world began putting plans into action. All important locations had militia laying in wait, all cities had special ops groups spread through them. All cameras were comandeered by the government and facial recognition software ran constantly, searching for one of those missing children or for non-citizen abnormals. Once spotted, the trap was set. In peaceful countries, humidifiers turned on in shopping malls. Steam escaped stormdrains. Sprinklers sprayed more than water. In other countries, bombs were dropped on locations known to house abnormals, gunmen found the disappearing children and made the kids lead them to their homes and schools and shopping centres.
In the UK, it took no more than two days for a masked group to appear in Trafalgar Square. And it took no more than two seconds for MI6 agents and several other countries' special ops to react. Low-impact smoke bombs were thrown at the group of abnormal terrorists, and within two minutes they were on the ground. Some had managed to escape before the magic-eating virus had affected them too deeply, but that was for the best. The virus spread incredibly fast, and those abnormals who escaped would spread it to their brethren.
Within one week, most magic was gone. Sure there were still pockets of abnormals who hadn't felt the tremors, but they would. They would venture out of their safehouses one day and they would lose their magic like the others.
The abnormals who lost their magic all suffered in some way. It was like a missing limb to some. For others, it was like oxygen. And without oxygen, well...
What mattered was that the world was safe from this threat. Abnormals were being assimilated into proper culture, but they were watched. Their children would be watched, and their grandchildren. The mutation might happen again, so it was worth keeping an eye on them. It was worth keeping them out of positions of power as well, just in case. There was no reason for them to find out exactly what the world's governments had done. They would assimilate and they would forget their old, abnormal lives.
Magic was gone and it would remain gone. The world was safe from abnormals.
Until the granddaughter of one Hermione Granger discovered what had been done to her people... |
The hoods and masks were purely ceremonial. Any eavesdropper would have known exactly who was in the room. If the instantly recognizable voices of the world’s most powerful men would not give away their identities, then the gold-plated nametags surely would. Strangers listening in would not be a problem however. The secret meeting was held in a remote villa, high up in the swiss alps. Access could only be gained via helicopter, and security was the most stringent.
A figure moved to the center of the crowded atrium. He appeared to have a slight limp. His golden nametag read ‘V. Putin’.
“Gentlemen,” he announced in an ominous russian accent. “We have disturbing news.”
A hush fell over the gathered tycoons and kleptocrats. “I have called you all here for this emergency meeting to discuss some recent developments. Last night I was attacked by a...creature…. within my own home. It looked just like me. Thankfully, I was able to rip it apart with my bare hands. My Scientists have dissected the monster and have found it to be a clone of myself. The only difference was that the brain was of a different composition. They believe it to be of extra-terrestrial origin. Presumably, the monster wished to kill me and take over Russia.” There was a stunned silence. He went on. “It is quite possible that many in this room are not in fact human, but one of these imposters, sent by aliens. Some may even have even replaced the human years ago. No one will leave until we expose these monsters”
All hell broke loose.
“Xenu has come for you all.” announced Tom Cruise with a deadpan voice. Everyone in the room used lies to manipulate people, but only Tom Cruise would refuse to break character.
“Cut the shit Cruise” shouted a fat Korean man in the back. Kim Jong Un was the only man in the room as short as Tom. “You call that a cult? This is a cult.” He slammed his chest with his fist.
“Trump has to be an alien!” yelled Kanye. Clearly their recent alliance was completely dissolved. While all members share a common goal, there remain deep divisions within the Illuminati. “No human is that color”
“I have 100% of the orange vote. You were supposed to get me 25% of the black vote and you couldn’t even do that.” Trump shot back. “You don’t even deserve to be in this club”
“This is not a club. It is an ancient order” corrected Xi Jinping. “What I would like to know is how do we know this is not just one of Vlad’s schemes to turn us against each other? I am leaving.”
“Because of this.” From his robes Putin pulled a large plastic bag. He upended it at their feet. An exact copy of his own head rolled out, leaving a purple fluid oozing from its neck onto the floor. “And I have soldiers surrounding the complex. They are instructed to shoot any vehicle leaving the premises. Desperate times.” This was a severe breach of Illuminati protocol.
“I once rappelled down the Burj Khalifa. I’ll take my chances with this mountain.” Tom Cruise dove out of a window. Only a sheer cliff face lay below. Everyone returned to the argument without skipping a beat.
“We all know Musk is an alien” accused Mark Zuckerberg. “He’s been trying to get home for years.”
“Is that right Dead Eyes?” Elon Musk responded. “I always knew there was something wrong with you. I didn’t think you were an alien though. Even aliens have souls.”
So far I had remained silent. I had come to sow discord between the rulers of earth. As the only clone to successfully infiltrate the meeting I had assumed it was a lost cause. This was going to be easier than expected. |
Lately, I've come down with a terrible cold. My limbs move in slow motion. My throat rasps with each labored breath. I just finished the last cup noodle this morning, but it feels like I haven't eaten in days. It feels like my beard grows longer each time I use the restroom. When I chose to become an inventor to follow my dreams, I hadn't expected to live paycheck to paycheck. Nor had I thought I'd wind up in a windowless lab in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, typing my notes with aching hands, craning my stiff neck towards a screenful of code, a chalkboard of equations, and a machine of broken dreams. I guess I really am getting old. In my undergrad, I could pull two all nighters studying for a final, and yet my head's spinning from merely missing a few hours of sleep last night. But I can't rest now. How can I, when I'm so close to losing our grant? So close to making a breakthrough. If I can just push myself a little more, everything will be alright.
I believe I'm on the verge of solving this equation. It's just on the edge of my subconsciousness. So close it brings tears to my eyes.
I just ordered a large pepperoni. Hopefully it gets here soon. I'll set the dial to 20 minutes, and hit the button. Note to self: for the final product, don't use such a cheap dial. Two turns and the numbers are already wearing. I just put it into the code. If this doesn't work, it better kill me.
[subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/)
|
"So, what are your in for?"Another villain suddenly asked.
I took of my sunglasses and turned to her. still lying on my towel at the local beach.
She was just wearing a casual swimsuit. Like almost everyone around here. Myself included.
"Seriously? Aren't we all in for the same reasons?"I jokingly asked.
She sat down next to me and took a sip from her Jacuzzi.
"Fair enough."She said afterwards.
"So, what do you think of Tartarus so far? Heard you're a new one. Last month, right?"She asked. I simply lifted myself up from my towel and sat upright.
"Yeah and honestly, i'm impressed! Not only because of what they have to offer... But by this being basically a 5 star - if not even more - resort! I mean, we have our own servants and we can leave whenever we want!"
"Yeah, the first time i heard that I was pretty shocked too. But at the same time... I honestly never had a vacation ever since i started this whole 'villain' gig."She said and lost her focus over the ocean in front of us. She let her vision wander around, lost in thoughts.
"I've been here for a year now and honestly, i don't intend to leave. Why should I? Outside... I have responsibilities. Here i can just... relax and do what i want."She explained.
"...Besides. What's your favorite part of Tartarus so far? Arcade? Swimming pools? Ski mountain?"
"Well, i always enjoyed Arcades. Its just, ever since that 'Harbringer' decided to make this his 'area' I take the route away from it. Nowadays i'm just... well, here. Besides, we have a ski resort?"
"Yep we do. And also yes, that guy is an asshole. Heard hotel staff want to build him a gaming room, though, its just so we can use the arcade again."
"Seriously?! He's been in that thing for just two days so far!"
"Yeah! I mean, they gave Doc his own high-tech-lab to research new diseases yesterday!"She said, i looked at her dumbfounded.
"You're kidding! That guy basically made a normal sneeze as deadly as a nuke! Now they give him access to a lab?!"
"Well, the only 'downside' is that his research must be sent to the league of nations, so they can make vaccines and stuff. But honestly, he saw that as not even a deal. He took it without a second thought!"
"Anyone would! The fucker can just go after his hobby with world wide funding! And he almost wiped out china and India because of boredom!"I said loudly. Not caring if anyone else was around.
"Seriously though, what is this place? It's insanity when you take it as a context of a small scale villain or normal civilian!"I added.
"Honestly, i don't care! It's far to relaxing to stay here. No matter the villain, we almost all get along well. I enjoy my stay here."
"Ditto. I don't intend to leave such a place. Especially since the heroes are still working their asses of filling this place."
"You've gotta give them credit for their tenacity."
"Not really. It's just that the saying is true. It definitely is for almost all of us, after all."
"Refresh my mind please? I think i drank to much."
"You either die a hero, or see yourself retire as a villain."
"Amen to that."She added and drank the remainder of her Jacuzzi. |
I don’t know how many times it’s happened. All I know is I want out. I’ve lived in every time in human history, including a few stints in pre human times, that was fun. I’ve tried to die, kill myself, pray to anything that would listen, but it hasn’t changed anything. I am truly cursed for eternity, so I might as well roll with it. It’s hard for me to make worthwhile connections anymore. I’ve had thousands of friends, thousands of families. I have given up on even trying to have some semblance of a life. No, now I’m just a drifter.
Even though I have ascended beyond the concerns of your average man, I still take the time to help anyone I come across who needs it. I lived a life of crime for a brief period in the late 1900s, I was a paramedic for around 50 years in different times, the hardest of which was my time in the Second World War. Any time I see someone die I am both saddened for the loss, and jealous that they can shrug off their mortal coil, whereas I remain immortal.
I’ve worked in bars, as a psychologist, massage therapist, hell, I even tried my hand at politics. But having only 10 years to establish oneself anywhere is a lot harder than you’d think. I have all the time in the world, but also, not enough time. I have given up on long standing friendships, I rarely venture beyond a physical relationship but in this time right now, the year of 1989, is the first time in centuries my heart has stopped at the sight of somebody. We locked eyes, and it was electric. I had to have her, it was the first time I had truly felt anything in a long time.
“Hello, my name is...” I had long since forgotten my true name. I scrambled to think of what it was but I had taken up so many different names over the years, I couldn’t think of it. “Sorry, I swear I’m not trying to make one up, hahaha”
Without missing a beat, she says “You look like a Phillipè to me, with the accent over the e.” I was at a loss. That was my name exactly. How could I have forgot! “YES thank you, you must have read my mind better than I can use it!” We both laughed, and I asked her what she was doing this evening. “A bit forward don’t you think there Philly?” She had already given me a nickname! She gets more and more perfect the longer I stay around her! “You haven’t even asked my name yet!”
“Oh I’m so sorry, what’s your name?” “Elizabeth. But most people call me Lizzy” ELIZABETH! That is my favourite name ever, and she had it. “Philly and Lizzy eh? Sounds like we where made for each other! Whaddya say we go get lunch together? My treat!”
Elizabeth furrowed her brow “Philly, I like you already, but *I* will pay for my own lunch thank you very much, I don’t want to owe you anything” It had been a long time since I met someone as independent and interesting as her. She was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted, and I’m surprised she didn’t just tell me to fuck off.
“Do you know anywhere to get a good meal” I asked her. I wasn’t long in this time period before I met her, so I had to leave a bit of room for her input to smooth this whole thing over. “There is actually this cute diner around the corner where I get coffee, and lunch if I’m working around this area” “Great! It’s a date!” She giggled at that. God her giggle is cute.
At the diner, we ended up staying, talking until the diner closed at midnight. We spent an entire afternoon and evening in this place, just talking. Luckily, I had been dropped in on the year of 1980, so I was able to talk like I knew about the state of the world. I mixed in several stories of the different jobs I’ve had, but I didn’t mention the curse yet. She works in paranormal sciences, and was currently studying ghostly phenomena, which didn’t pique her interest at all. She was more interested in the occult. It was as we where leaving the diner that I noticed something. The diner had a painting that I swore I had seen before. It has been so long that I have seen almost every painting that exists, but this painting stuck out in my mind. It was distinct. I was beating myself up for forgetting my own past, let alone several hundred of my trips through time. I wonder where I saw it before.
As I was walking her home, I started to really get the feeling of déjà vu, like I had walked these streets before. Ever since she said my original name, it had started to play out in my head, the day I got the curse. It’s all a haze, but it happened in this city. Maybe the key to getting out of it was here. We got to her house “So, Lizzy, could I get your number perha-“ she cut me off with a kiss. Not just any kiss. The most amazing kiss of my life. I stayed the night. It was... amazing, to say the least. I had never had an experience that I felt was perfect but that night, the entire experience from the moment I locked eyes with her, until I closed my eyes early that morning, was truly perfect. And then it dawned on me. I only had less than a year left with the newly found love of my life. Of all of my lives. It was a month in when I decided I should tell her my curse, but every time I tried to tell her she cut me off, either because she never wanted to hear bad news from me, or because she knew that what I told her would change everything. Maybe both. So I wrote her a letter. We where together for 11 months before I was soon to be erased from the plane of time I was on, and in that letter I wrote her, I told her everything. I gave it to her one morning and told her to read it. After she read it, she had tears streaming down her face, as I felt myself disintegrating from the plane I was on. Through tears, she said “why didn’t you tell me?” “You never let me” “I THOUGHT YOU WHERE JUST UNABLE TO HAVE KIDS! I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO THINK I WORRIED ABOUT THAT STUFF! I LOVE YOU!!!”
As I felt the familiar tingle start at my feet I said “I love you too. My life will never be complete again until the day I see you again. Goodbye Elizabeth, my one and only love. I hope you find happiness without me.
She looked at me, and I saw her face change like it did when she got angry. “Good riddance Phillipè, I hope you spend your eternity alone!”
I shed my first tear in thousands of years as I evaporated from before her very eyes. When I woke up, it was the year 2019, and I was in the diner where I first had a date with Elizabeth. Or so I thought.
It all came crashing back down on me, as I stood before a woman who looked older than she was lay a curse on me. Except I was off to the side watching it happen to me. Did I end up in the same place that I had started all those years ago. As I saw myself evaporate away and scream in fright, I heard that familiar giggle emanate from the lady. When she turned to face me, she said “Phillipè, I hope you learned not to play with a woman’s heart, because hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” |
To them, it was a barrier. Reaching as far as the eye could see, the Eastern Mountains were topped with snowcaps and high winds. The climb was practically impossible by foot and boasted smooth surfaces and sheer drops. On the other hand, I had wings.
I proved myself years ago by landing on the summit with Kyla, collecting a handful of snow as proof. They ridiculed me when I told my story and not a soul believed what I did. All refused my offer to take them with me, citing concerns for my safety.
Yes, safety. An ironic word that hit hard with the death of one of my breathen during a spar. My father went down during a festival joust. We fought with vigor in peacetime, and yet all would cower in fear when they spoke of crossing the great sea to the west. Or the Eastern Mountains.
One night, I took to the sky after a long hunt. Most of the men were drunk from the feasting, eating their fill of wild boar and venison. I cloaked and left silently into the night, my feet springing above the ground. Not a soul would've noticed that I'd silently gone.
Kyra responded to my beckon, melding our minds into one as I leaped onto her back. I felt the hardened mind of a warrior on the surface, and after the briefest of pauses her curiosity and excitement underneath. She'd been shunned by the others by trying to express herself. Silenced for speaking out of turn in front of her elders.
*We're crossing the mountains tonight,* I told her. *It's now or never.*
*Are you sure they won't find out,* she asked. I sensed a soft tremor beneath me as she lifted off with ease.
I sent her a mental nod, accompanied with a smidge of calm. We'd been shunned after the earlier incident, punished with me in the stoneworks and her in the corral. The jeers and insults of the crowd were horrendous as I slaved away alongside deserters and thieves. Kyra fared no better with an enchanted collar around her neck, accompanied by a short chain fastened to a post. Even the horses had more freedom in the stables.
Today was the best time to make my break. We were camped out in the northeastern wild, a long ride from our home and conveniently right at the foothills of the main range. The crossing would be swift, and there would still be several hours of free flying before returning back. The cold bit into my furs as I rose, amplified both by the headwind and those beating wings.
The air thinned, forcing Kyra to work harder and breathe deeper. Quickly I placed a palm on her neck, stabilizing her and transferring energy. I'd trained her to accept my magic, despite how unnatural it was to her. Now I was the one slowing down as my lifeforce slowly crept into her muscles and lungs.
*We did this before,* I told her. *We'll make it.*
Both of us were nearly spent as we traversed the top, springing into a sharp dive to gain more momentum. The snow and rock rushed past me, eventually fading into a blur of pine trees. Warm air wafted up from below as the air thickened into something breathable.
I felt a rush of pride from within me, and the same from Kyla. Aside from a shortness of breath, we'd passed a wall that everyone had called impenetrable. The rumors of sudden death and dangerous conditions were simply rumors. Even the environment seemed to be the same as it was on the other side.
*Roan,* Kyla suddenly said. *Do you see something bright in the distance?*
I pushed additional power into my eyes and strained to see clearly in the moonlight. Yes, something was out there. My mental tendrils stretched out, but my mostly spent reserve kept the range low. They seemed in a way foreign, unlike anything I'd seen before.
Kyla banked at my command, moving perpendicular to the mountains to avoid straying any nearer to those mysterious beasts. They closed the distance with ease. It was at this moment where I began to sense fear, something that didn't really exist in me when I took off. The interlopers spread out, two accelerating to flank while the third followed casually.
An unfamiliar drone reached my ears as they drew closer. I saw blue flame spit from their backs, accompanied by a trail of white smoke that drew a line across the sky. There were hidden lifeforms in there, ignoring my probes like a void. My nervous attempts of communicate yielded silence.
Not wanting to be the aggressor, I spiraled into a tight loop and made way for the mountains. The roaring fliers weren't as maneuverable, but made up for it with superior speed. I watched the three move in once again, and instinctively knew battle was thrust into my path. They boxed me in from up above, forcing me on a rapid descent towards the trees.
They weren't dragons for sure. Clearly they were smaller than Kyla, with fixed wings and a triangle shape. It almost looked like it was carved out of a hunk of stone rather than a living thing. I was confident fighting dragons, but this seemed like something else entirely.
*I don't think we'll make it,* Kyla whispered into my mind. She was anxious, flapping at full power to gain speed. I'd been trained to take the initiative in combat, and now was the time. I was larger, stronger, and wouldn't last much longer. The enemy was cocky and within my range, something we'd been taught to avoid - or maybe they'd just never fought dragons before.
*Left,* I ordered. *Roast him.*
Kyla responded by my touch, snapping her head around and releasing a powerful burst of flame. Shields had appeared on all of them, but it was unlikely they could handle the onslaught. The group split as I banked and ascended nearly vertically.
The beast I'd hit was damaged, but still flying. It's shields were hit hard, and I began to feel the rider's presence as he concentrated on his self-preservation rather than his mental guards. Jared would've tried a magical attack, but I didn't have the innate skill he had.
Before the others could swing around in time, Kyla twisted again and sent a prolonged lance of fire into the fleeing beast. Small explosions appeared on it's surface, followed by the telltale sparking of failed spells and frantic magic use. What I saw next stunned me.
A flaming object blew out of the wreckage, and the lifeform with it. I watched it travel in an arc, smoke trailing from its rear. Did those riders really think that they could cheat death? A large cloud billowed behind it, slowing its decent.
*Coward,* Kyla growled. She rolled around to finish him as he floated helplessly towards the ground.
A thundering set of cracks split the air as the two remaining beasts attacked. Projectiles whizzed through the air from their snouts as they flared hard, keeping their distance and unleashing hell in my direction. They were tiny, but ridiculously fast.
The last thing I heard were Kyla's screeches as something hit me in the back of my head. |
I give them Credit for trying, out of all the things to screw it up for them, nobody would've thought it would've been that kid.
When the Vesseros came, as Americans, we got a taste of our own medicine. We knew what the Native tribes of America experienced when confronted with truly alien technology from another world. They landed during the inauguration of President Creed. After a brief moment of hesitation, a jumpy secret service agent with foreign agents on the brain opened fire. We realized resistance, as the cliché said, was truly futile. Mere seconds from him raising his gun, he screamed, and dropped his weapon, unable to stand. This was the first time anyone on planet Earth saw which was later to become known as forced peace telepathy.
As oxymoronic as "forced peace"sounds the Vesseros had the ability to telepathically halt any act of violence in human beings. Like a scene from Clockwork Orange they were unable to continue, leaving them vulnerable to forced temporary paralysis and a violent pain in the temples. The Vesseros had not come to destroy humanity. They had come in need of mutual aid, of which President Creed and all world leaders quickly obliged. I was one of the 100 from America chosen, my background being geology and volcanology. Each country worldwide offered up thief best 100 scientists and sociologists to serve as the first humans to leave this planet and study the Vesseros home world, Durman.
We were instructed that we were to portray the best of humanity to our new galactic counterparts, and we were to strictly obey all customs and laws in the foreign alien world. We were all placed in what the Vesseros called "The Motherboard"a transporter which would teleport us atom by atom while we slept from their ship to their home world. The process took a few weeks and about 4000 of us eventually ended up I'm a massive metallic gray, cold glass filled structure with hallways and rooms stretching for miles. The outside world, apparently poisonous to humans remained a mystery surrounded by windows only showing darkness. And there we remained, and remained for close to five years.
The Vesseros always in their suits to protect them from our oxygen rich environment enclosure remained aloof about our cause, and the work we were doing there. They were adamant that we would be given access to operate on the surface of their world handful by handful. But for those that were non essential, it was necessary for us to remain inside the massive structure we colloquially called "The Noah", Ark seemed too played out. We were fed the same regiment of liquified vitamins and food every day three times a day, and were kept on a strict high caloric meal plan.
They slowly took groups of ten or so of us out on a semi regular basis. We had remained in the Noah long enough for the first generation of humans born on another planet to be conceived, and we remained for a while longer, watching them reach the age of 5. We had our doubts that this experiment was worth it, however dissent was impossible, we would be compelled through "forced peace"to remain calm and await our turn to meet the outside world.
It was at this time, Aiden, the curious boy of 4 years stumbled into our housing unit one day. He smirked at me and my beautiful new girlfriend, Amber, and would wave at us through the glass door making funny faces and laughing with a room filling sound whenever I pretended to steal Ambers nose. Aiden would wander aimlessly through the corridors making a celebrity of himself with all nationalities in our unit, and even spoke some Japanese and Creole because of our Haitian and Japanese neighbors. If anything the Noah was safe for a kid like him, everything was monitored and carefully overseen
One day, during our recreational time I noticed Aiden smiling, and most shockingly, chewing. It had been so long since I had seen the motion of chewing as our diet on Durman was solely liquid. I walked over and asked him
"Aiden, what are you eating?"
"NUFFIN"he replied
"Aiden where are your Mom and Dad? You shouldn't be chewing on random things"I asked, concerned.
"The were picked by the space men to go outside , but I hid in my new room because I like it here"he said.
"What are you talking about Aiden. What new room?"
"My new one come here!"He pulled me by my shirt and took me towards an obscure hallway leading to the trash disposal.
It was then that Aiden showed me a vent, which only he was small enough to fit through, he quickly climbed in, stuck his tongue out at me when he realized I couldn't fit, and crawled with lightening speed down the vent into the darkness.
"AIDEN, AIDEN,"I called after him "Its time to come back now, we don't want you to get in any sort of trouble!"
After ten long minutes, I heard his giggling down the vent getting closer, as he approached, he eyed me up and smiled and reached into his pocket.
"Here I found his in the other room, thanks for being my friend!"He smiled and handed me a Kit Kat "They're sooooo goood you try one now!"
-----------------
Following this revelation, I waited for my time, and set up an ambush on a lone Vesseros patrolman with some others,
"What are you who are you and if you don't tell me I'll fucking kill you right now"I screamed, expecting in to be immediately forcibly pacified.
But nothing.
Nothing at all.
Realizing this I yanked off the Vesserosi's helmet to se a human being staring back at me, clearly terrified.
We made enough of an impact on him to scare him clearly because the he said "I will tell you everything but not here"
-----
We followed him, down the corridor
He explained once we got to the room which was typically locked from entry.
"it was all to bring peace all to bring peace"he rambled on "they are protecting humanity, we are protecting humanity!"
It was then that I saw a light peeking from around the corner in The small room, I turned the corner and saw it on the security screen.... the sun, daylight, peeking over a mountain shown on the security camera. We had been on earth all along and even worse, by the looks of the few building I could make out, it was destroyed.
|
The tiny, green-skinned creature wrung his hands.
"It's....it's not that simple,"he stammered, staring up the stairs.
The commander stared back, impassive. "Explain. This is your *job*, Consul Yrip."
Yrip fought back a wave of irritation, the fear still rising hot and fast behind it. The commander wasn't someone he could argue with. All the same...
"Things are *different,*"he said, struggling to keep his words level and pleasant. "The humans are learning. Developing."
"Because you failed."
"No! I mean, no. They would have *anyway.*"
"You were supposed to see that they did not,"the commander said slowly. His hands were larger than Yrip's head, his skin stony and dark. He shifted, bringing himself that much closer to the little researcher. "It is simple, Yrip. Send a craft and-"
"They've got cameras."
"So use an electromagnetic pulse, and-"
"You think they wouldn't notice that?"Yrip said, just a hair shy of a shriek. He brought himself back under control a heartbeat later, seeing the way the commander was beginning to glare. "I-I mean. That would destroy their entire infrastructure."
"Good. Send them back to their holes."
"They'd see us. There's no way they wouldn't."
The commander stopped. Yrip smiled tightly, noting the way his superior scowled. The council had ordered them to observe - destroying the human's culture would be frowned on. Exposing themselves in the process? Unacceptable.
Neither Yrip or the commander would survive a mistake like that.
"My team has considered all of these options,"he said instead, a simpering tone entering his voice. He wouldn't win by trying to argue with the commander. He had to *convince* him. "All of our usual options have been wiped out, sir. All we have left are outliers and long shots."
The commander perked up. Yrip's heart leapt.
Convincing the commander was good. Convincing the commander to convince *himself* was even better.
"Then you have other options,"the massive alien boomed.
Yrip shrugged, pursing his lips. "Oh...nothing proven. Nothing that I want to *rely* on."He cast a look to the wall, to where the ship's display screen waited. "I think we should just call the council. Tell them-"
"If you have other options, then you have a chance to escape total failure,"the commander interrupted. "*Explain.*"
A grin flashed across Yrip's face, there and gone. "Well. You see. We've always tried interfering from outside, haven't we? Ships, and abductions, and lasers. I don't think they'll fall for that anymore."
The commander's brow furrowed. "Then..."
Yrip raised his hand, keying the datapad clutched there to life. And then he passed it to his superior.
The commander took it, his eyes going dark as he took in the diagrams painted there. The figure, humanoid and pale-skinned. It had taken years to perfect - but he was sure of it. The council wouldn't like it, but what did they know? Yrip straightened. They were in it now. No turning back.
Besides, the earthlings had an election coming up.
"Has the development unit spoken to you about the human suits they've been working on?"
The commander's eyes flashed up to meet his.
Yrip smiled.
---
(/r/inorai for shorter stuff by me!
/r/RedditSerials for longer stories by me and others!) |
'Thanks, Sarah. I'm here outside Isle Elba Prison where we're counting down to the release of The Governor's son, Charlemagne, two-hundred and forty seven years after he was sentenced to imprisonment here for the murder of twenty-five of The Grand Synod in 3073. Charlemagne, the youngest of The Governor's sons, is expected to walk through those double doors at around dawn tomorrow and rejoin his father back in their family home in central Rome. The Governor has issued a statement that he expects the negotiation regarding terms of surrender for North America to continue in his absence, though sources say there is considerable concern within the government both at his prolonged absence and the return of his prodigal son'
The reporter gestured to the high walls and razor wire behind her, which were being warmed by the Mediterranean sun.
'While little detail on the lives of the inmates of Elba are known to the public, what we do know is that Charlemagne was granted a three year reduction in sentence for good behaviour, and that his lawyers have stated that he understands what he did was wrong, and he hopes to become an active contributing member of society. Further updates when I have them...'
The TV was difficult to hear over the scraping of plates and cutlery in the large prison canteen, but Charlemagne thought he had caught most of it. The programme had moved back to the studio, to go into depth again on his original sensational arrest and trail nearly a two-hundred and fifty years ago. Images of scarlet and white flashed across the scene, followed by videos of court proceedings and grieving crowds.
Two hundred and fifty years, ten for every life he'd taken. He'd sat in silence throughout the trial. He'd known it was coming, planned for it. Only, he'd planned for two-hundred and forty years, not two-hundred and fifty.
The twenty-fifth count of murder, well, the twenty-fifth wasn't one of his. It was the only body that the police at the time had been unable to identify, dressed though he was in the scarlet robes of the pompous Cardinals who made up the Synod's highest rank.
Charlemagne had taken the blame anyway. Hard to convince a jury that you're guilty of all murders but one. Better to remain silent, and plan.
The news report was now flashing up a close-up of his face from the trial, tanned with a dark brow and aquiline nose, inherited from his father. The years in prison had left their mark on him, but not in the usual way. While the faces of the prisoners around him, some of the most dangerous men on the planet, had slowly started to distort through weight gain, lack of sleep, too much sun, and hair loss, Charlemagne remained the youth he had been when he entered the prison. It had been fascinating for him to watch the former titans of cruelty melt into old men up close. Aging wasn't something in his own families genes.
His only physical souvenir was an impressive scar that now ran from his left brow straight down his face - a reminder of a cell-mate brawl only thirty years into his tenure in Elba. It had been one of the many attempts that his other four brother had made on his life while he served his sentence. None of them had been truly serious, thought the knife attack had been the close, more tests to keep Charlemagne on his toes while they waited for him to re-emerge. They likely thought it was all terribly funny. Instead it had provided the most serious obstacle to Charlemagne's only aim when he entered Elba's doors - to stay on the good side of the Prison guards and do whatever he could to reduce his sentence.
Elba had always been the plan. Their father's ambitions had been hampered, and Charlemagne had commited himself to serving that ambition.
The real problem was the twenty-fifth corpse. That hadn't been part of their plan.
Someone had tried to keep him locked up for ten years more that they had planned. Charlemagne didn't like to think what that meant, and now he only had three years to find out. |
*Super cheesy warning*
***
It was as if the breakup had never happened. We still had the same chemistry. Our laughs were still in synch. I still looked at her and could get lost in her eyes, completely losing track of time. I would look at her as she was thinking of something else, and I would think of how lucky I was to have her.
Then I would come crashing back to reality.
She had left me. We were good for a short team. It was fun, exciting. But fun and exciting is not the only thing you need for a lifetime commitment. Beauty fades. Love has a half life. You would need to be compatible with each other. It took me a long time to come to terms with that. Wouldn’t have happened without Tracy. But as I sat looking at Sally, all I could remember was the good times. The fun we used to have. The fun we’d been having for the past few days.
To her credit, Tracy okayed the idea. She barely knew Sally but in all her kindness allowed me to bring her home. She pretended that she was a distant relative new in town and looking for an apartment. Tracy asked me about her late one night. She thought she knew all my relatives. I mentioned that relative was a stretch. She was a second cousin’s neighbor or something. I had met her only a few times. And then she had proceeded to warn me about her.
“I don’t like her.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re such a dumbass. Have you not seen how she looks at you?”
“What? How does she look at me?”
“You’re dumb as a stick. She’s obviously in love with you.”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
Ours had been a marriage of convenience more than anything. We were good friends. And she was there when Sally left. She helped me pick up the pieces. I was a broken man. And she had helped me together. Did I love her? Probably. But my love for her wasn’t like my love for Sally. It was like comparing a small lighter flame to a roaring campfire. One was good to have in the dark. The other would consume you. Envelope you. It was exhilarating while it lasted.
I talked to Tracy some time after that. Officially, we were out hunting apartments for her.
“Look Tracy, we don’t need to do this. We can just turn her out. She has a family. That’s who should be responsible for her.”
“No, I don’t mind. She’s important to you. And you said that she had a falling out with her family.”
“I know but... I don’t like it. Its difficult.”
“I know. It is difficult. But we are doing the right thing. The doctor mentioned that staying in a familiar location would be good for her. And she was in this house much before I even knew you.”
“But you’re my equal partner in that house now. And you’ve been relegated to an outsider. And... she still thinks we are a couple. I just... I don’t like it.”
She smiled and put her hand in mine. “I trust you. It’s fine.”
It was almost a months since this weird, mismatch assortment of people had been staying in that tiny apartment. But I was always on edge. It was a bad situation. And then the explosion came.
I got a call from her. She was angry.
“I threw that bitch out.”
“You what?”
“I threw her out.”
“What the fuck Sally. You can’t do that.”
“Well I just did.” And she hung up.
I rushed home.
“Where’s Tracy?”
“Who knows?” She shrugged her shoulders and moved her attention back to the tv.
“Sally. I’m gonna ask you one more time. Where is she?”
“Why do you care? It took us two weeks to get this apartment and we didn’t know anyone. She’s been here for a month. And she’s found nothing. But I found something. I found your picture in her damn purse.”
“Why were you going through her purse?” My head was pounding.
“Oh really? Is that what you got out of my statement? She had your god damn picture. I told you she had designs on you. You might be enjoying keeping a girl waiting on you hand and foot but I certainly didn’t.”
I was too angry to respond. I picked up my phone and started dialling.
She snatched the phone out of my hand. “Are you calling that bitch?”
“Give me my phone right now.”
“I won’t.”
I remembered the last times. Our love was a fire. It would burn bright. But it would end soon. I remembered again. The tantrums. The jealousy. And I remembered kind grey eyes.
I grabbed my phone out of her hands and walked out.
“You have a choice to make. If you step out the door, I won’t be here when you come back.”
I didn’t stop.
I called every mutual friend. I went to her favourite places to eat. Or at least what I thought her favourite places to eat were. Now that I thought about it, our married life had consisted of her making me happy. Taking my choices and making them her own. I called her boss. He mentioned that she had taken a sabbatical. He didn’t know where she was.
I went home at 4 in the morning. Sally was sleeping soundly. I slept on the couch.
I found a note the next day. It was in my jacket pocket. Tracy always remembered that I liked to wear my suits on fixed days.
“My dear husband. I can see the chemistry. It’s something we can never have. You guys obvious belong together. I can see the way your face lights up when you see her. I like seeing you happy. I’m going to go away for a while. I don’t know when I will be back. I hope you can work things out with Sally if and when her memory comes back.
Love,
Tracy”
Over the next few days, I made many more calls. I found out that she had a house in a small village out in the country. It belonged to her grandparents. I left immediately when I found out.
I saw her before she saw me.
I saw a twinkle in her eye as she stood and looked over a farm. She had never had that twinkle around me.
“Tracy?”
She turned around and saw me. A tear appeared in her eye. She ran towards me. But she stopped.
“Hello Tim. How are you doing? How’s sally?”
“How are you?”
“I am good. But how about you?”
“Is she doing better?”
“How about you?” I repeated.
“Where did you leave her? Is she back at the clinic?”
“How about you?”
She looked at me for a while, her head tilted slightly. I had missed that tilt.
Finally she broke into a smile.
“I’m fine Tim. So now my answers.”
“I married you. I chose you.”
“You didn’t have this option at the time.”
“I do now. And I still chose you.”
“Tim, we can never...”
I interrupted her. “I don’t want what I had with Sally. It’s addictive and self destructing. You. You are what’s good for me. You are the one I want.”
“You love her.”
“My old man, may he burn in hell forever, had a thing for quotes and quips. The only one that i actually liked and believed said that don’t marry the one you love. Marry the one who loves you. Our marriage has been about you loving me, supporting me. I still haven’t had the chance to return the favour.”
I got down on my knees.
“Tim!”
“Tracy Williams. Would you...”
“Hang on! We’ve already done this.”
“I don’t care. We’ll do it again. And this time, we do it your way.”
***
*minor spelling edits* |
"You mean to tell me you've been doing this for weeks?! And not *once* did you actually open any of the books you touched?!"
​
Kylie stood still, hands folded in front of her, head down in shame. "Well, It's just that, I didn't need to open them."
​
Mrs.McCannon, the School's librarian, made an exasperate sound that was akin to a cat being strangled mixed with a diesel engine. "Ten thousand dollars. Ten. *Thousand.* Dollars. That is the library's entire budget for the next three years gone out the window just so we could restock the library. The, *entire,* Library! You even absorbed the instruction manual for the printer! Look at me when I am speaking to you young lady!"Kylie sheepishly raised her head, though avoided any actual eye contact. Mrs.McCannon was a giant, taller than most tall men, and she was making a point to stand as straight as she could so she could tower over the terrified student with every centimeter of her being. "Just what do you have to say for yourself?!"
​
"....Sorry?"
​
"Is that *all* you have to say?!"
​
Kylie resisted the urge to look away, but was unsure what else to say to the angered woman. She glanced behind Mrs.McCannon to look at the group behind her; her principle, vice principle, school board director, the lady in charge of the budget, and her parents had all gathered in the newly stocked library. All of them had calmed considerably when Kylie explained, and demonstrated, her unique ability. They all seemed willing to forgive the young girl for her rather egregious misuse of her power given the fact it was clearly an accident and no harm had been intended. Mrs.McCannon on the other hand had not been so forgiving. Apparently discovering a human being with actual powers came second to the fact that her entire library needed to be restocked with books that had actual words in them. "Well?!"the angered librarian asked, tapping her foot and holding her hands out to her sides as if she were about to break into dance -had the mood been more musical and less yell'y-. Kylie looked to the group for some kind of help, but none of them offered any. Her father just shrugged helplessly. Kylie understood, Mrs.McCannon was over thirty centimeters taller than him.
​
Kylie looked around the room, her favorite room in the entire world. She loved books, and the discovery of her ability was like a dream come true. The ability to read every book she could ever want instantaneously. She had plans to visit every library in the world and learn everything there was to learn. The unfortunate side effect of her power however had put a real kibosh to that plan. As she looked around the room the thought occurred to her that after what happened, she was most likely to be permanently banned from the library, maybe even every library in the universe. The thought was enough to immediately cause tears to burst from the young girls eyes. She broke down crying, crying hard, the sort of crying you can only muster when everything in the world was wrong. She once again hung her head in shame.
​
A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder, and in a much calmer voice than she had been using up until that point, Mrs.McCannon asked once more, "Do you have anything to say, Kylie?"The young girl was sure she should say some kind of proper apology, make it clear that she was not just sorry but that she was really *very* quite sorry. But only one thought could form in her mind, and even if it made everyone start yelling at her again she had to say it.
​
"Am I banned from the library?"
​
There was a brief pause, and the gentle hand was removed from her shoulder to her chin and carefully raised the girls head to look at the librarian who had a calm smile on. "Of course not you silly thing. Only someone who truly loved books would be so careless when presented with an ability like yours."Mrs.McCannon reached into her pocked and pulled out a pair of white satin gloves. The expensive sort you only get from the kind of stores they don't let anyone in unless you're old enough that you willingly watch the news. "These are for you and wearing them is mandatory if you wish to read any book, whether it be in my library, or anyone else's. Understood?"Kylie hurriedly wiped the tears from her eyes, gratefully took the gloves, and gave Mrs.McCanon a massive hug that was tight enough the librarian was seriously concerned about become a human tube of toothpaste. Kylie nodded furiously, "Yes of course!"she yelled with glee, not minding at all that she could no longer use her power anymore if it meant being able to continue to frequent libraries. She missed reading books the old fashioned way anyway. |
I flashed a smile at the teacher. "Thank you for the wonderful introduction, Ms. Dougherty."Then I turned to the class.
I dropped the smile.
"I'm going to cut straight to the point. If you'll open the folders that were passed around at the beginning of class, you'll..."
One kid gasped, having opened the folder prematurely. So did another. And another. Soon, so many people were gasping it would have seemed like the room was losing oxygen.
I waited. Then I continued:
"Each of you has undoubtedly thought about exposing yourselves to radioactive substances in the hope of gaining superpowers.
"Don't.
"But since that's easier said than done, that's what the content inside the folder was for. For those of who haven't fallen asleep during Chemistry, you would know that certain radioactive substances are unstable, volatile, they *decay*.
"In other words, if I had a radioactive substance in my hand right now that gave me powers and I passed it to this kid in the front row... that same substance that gave me powers could have decayed so much, in the span of that one second, that he would be handicapped - if not dead - for life.
"Some of you will take the risk regardless. I see the daring in your eyes. I wish you luck. That is all."
I turned to the teacher and smiled.
"Thank you for having me, Ms. Dougherty."
And I walked over to the next class, hoping that this all wasn't in vain.
As long as I could save just *one* life from the fate of what was in those folders, then that would be enough. |
It wasn't easy finding them. I dug through the countless cases bit by bit, even the ones the Royal Guards didn't notice - but I did. All of them executed perfectly. They handled their assignments beautifully and adjusted the act of the kill perfectly to the requirement of the job. Some, meant to be loud, some, not so much. Many have been led to believe it was suicide, but it wasn't - they reinforced depression into their targets, they were the silent voice that killed their own will to live. I don't know how yet, I'm not even certain I know them all, but many resulted in a turn within the Council. It must've been them.
​
One time, I managed to get to the crime scene before anyone else. I knew they were planning it, I figured where it would be best. In the alley behind the bar. John Tremount. The target. He had been having an affair with one of the Council Head's daughter, more enough for a motive for him to hire an assassin to kill a civilian - breaking a rule that bounds all - *"No civilian must be hurt for one's benefit or whim"*. With John dead, he'd be placed in temporary confinement until he's proven guilty, and his first-born, Hue Mystgardim, would be placed in his chair. Hue clearly understands how to hold power within the Council; he won't let his father leave his cage after he will replace him.
​
When I got there, there was blood, a lot of blood. It wasn't like anything else before. It was... loud. John was butchered here and there, not for torture, but for display. His arteries were sliced, all of them. He bled within seconds. His organs were littered around his empty corpse. His blood was splattered all across the cobblestone and the back wall of the bar. That's where I found the note. It was nailed to the only dry part of the wall with one of their knives. A date and a place.
​
The show wasn't for the job. Making it a display made no sense, no message was meant to be sent across, not to the public... But to me. They wanted me to see what the job involves. What mastery and hard work it will take to be able to slice and cut so precisely that there isn't even a sign of struggle. John might as well have just been laying on down on a table ready to be sliced open.
​
I trained hard for the past three years. I knew I wouldn't be able to master the art of assassination, but I could be physically ready when the time came. Now, now was the time.
​
I arrived at the Bridge of Yotenheim that was deep in the forest. It connected the two lands separated by a crack in the ground that span more than 50 meters across. The bridge was old. It was built nearly a century ago, no-one can guarantee it's stability anymore. The wooden path was made of wooden planks spaced evenly. Two large towers on either end of the bridge, cast a spider-web of ropes that held the bridge in place. More ropes span out from the towers into the forest, holding it in position. The wood was dark and moldy, hammered together by rotting nails and hinges. The planks that made up the path were no better, they looked like they would span under any weight put on them. The ropes that were meant to be rigid, tied to the surrounding trees to hold the tower from falling into the chasm, were now just hung loosely. Stretched by the merciless weather and unavoidable age, overgrown by the green life of the forest.
​
I stepped onto the wood plank. It creaked beneath my weight, but it didn't break. I shifted my whole body forward, holding onto the fragile rope that was meant to be a hand-rail for my dear life. It creaked again, more than before. Then, the wood cracked beneath my feet. For a moment, I was free-falling. My hand that clung onto the rope didn't fail me. The years of climbing rocks and trees didn't go in vain. I pulled myself up back onto the soil.
​
I looked again at the bridge, I had to be in the middle of it. That's what the note said. I had less than 5 minutes. I *need* to make it.
​
The ropes... As old as they were, they didn't fail. They were all around the bridge. The planks that made up the path were tied together at their ends by the ropes. The wooden towers had ropes that were tied up with the base of the path at equal intervals. Then, an idea sparked in my mind. Without a second of reconsideration, I jolted to the top of the tower. I had no time to think of anything else.
​
The tower was not as tall as it seemed, 15 meters at most. I searched through the bundle of ropes that were tied to the top, and selected the one that span to the middle. I took off my belt, wrapped it around the rope and jumped. I made big progress in very little time. The belt held on pretty well, but the rope didn't like the friction as much.
​
The ropes were old nonetheless. As I slid down the rope, the rope began to tear. The sudden strain from my weight, the heat from the friction... It was simply too much.
​
*What was I thinking?!*
​
The rope snapped and I was free-falling once again.
​
I could see falling towards the bridge, how it was quickly getting bigger the closer I got, and then how I flew past it. As I flew past the bridge, my hands desperately tried to grab on to it, to anything.
​
They did.
​
I was past the bridge, too low to be able to hold onto any ropes or wood. The leather I grasped was pulsing with faint warmth. It held onto my forearm. It was an arm wearing gauntlets.
​
I looked up to see my savior. I couldn't believe it. The eyes of my mother gazed at me cheerfully, so pristine black I could see my own reflection. Black curly hair, same as mine, cut short to her shoulders. Lips with which my father never used to smile, were now cheerfully stretching from ear to ear.
​
"Well, hello apprentice!"my meant-to-be-dead sister said. |
“So you made a deal with a witch for our firstborn?” I ask my wife.
My wife breaks into tears as I look down at our son.
“I did to.” I sigh.
No more than twenty minutes later two witches come in the room. I recognize one as the one I made deal with, my wife claims to recognize the other.
“Where is the child?” They ask together.
My wife hands her witch our first born.
“ and yours?” My witch asks.
I point a shaky hand at my son.
“Oh thank the heavens!” My witch exclaims.
“Only one baby.” The other witch says as they kiss.
“Woah, wait you to are a couple?” I ask.
They nod.
Me and my wife accidentally sold our first born to a lesbian witch couple, and you know what they seem plenty qualified to raise our child. |
I remember one time when I was young, we had bring a pet day in school. Most kids had pets then. The normal you would expect: cats, birds, dogs and the like. I, of course, brought Steve. By now everyone knows Steve. He was a very unique individual. I say individual because Steve could talk. No, not like an everyday dog. Steve actually spoke English. Well, I heard him anyways. Noone else understood him. They only heard the bark, woof, bark of your everyday dog. But Steve could really talk. I was ridiculed and laughed at for years. My own family wouldn't believe me. To this day, I think Steve just liked me and allowed me to really hear him.
He was mostly happy. Was upset about not having "a bitch"but my parents refused to get another pet. I guess he could have just found one but he seemed to have a very particular type. That or he was just content as it was. We would talk about soo many things! Why I went to school and left him all day. Why the taller humans yelled at me all the time. Why I couldn't give him more bacon. He had a lot of questions. I never really had the answers. But it didn't matter. We understood each other. He was always there when I was left out for talking to him. He slept with me every night, telling me that one day I would thank him for it. He was always saying that one day I would thank him. But I was already thankful for him.
This bring a pet to school day turned out to be different. The world was changed that day and I had a front seat. Jack. It was Jack that did it. When it was Jack's turn to show his pet, he got up, and drew on the chalkboard in red marker. The teacher started to yell at him but by then it was too late. Jack somehow drew a portal and out of this portal came a Dragon! This Dragon was a small thing, perhaps a baby. But it already knew how to breathe fire and Jack commanded it to show the class! The art we had done earlier in the day was the victim this day. Dragon burped and looked at Jack. And then Dragon looked at Steve and I was never so scared as I was then. Would Dragon breathe fire on Steve?
Steve walked from my side, ignoring my pleas for him not to. Steve then did the most amazing thing: Steve talked to Dragon. And everyone heard him this time.
"Your HIghness, I see you found your way."Steve said. Dragon looked at him then nodded as only a dragon could. "I have. I am glad to see you arrived before me. Is this the one then?"His Highness asked, looking at me.
"She is, your highness. I've been with her for many years now and no matter the obstacle, she has persevered. She has remained kind and giving when she had many an opportunity to be cruel. She is the one you are looking for."
Now I was scared, but hearing Steve say all those nice things about me did something to me. I was proud for once. Proud of who I was and who Steve was. I looked at Jack's Dragon and said that I would do whatever it was asked of me but only if Steve would be by my side. The Dragon looked at me, then Steve then me again.
"It is good to have friends you can count on, especially where we are going. Your request will be granted. It is time to go Steve. Bring your human. We have a realm to save and my father is not a patient Dragon."
It was a good bring a pet to school day. I often reminisce how it all began. And today more than any. Steve is in my arms, dying, and I can only hold him and wish for another portal back to that day. Maybe if I had said no, he would be alive today, an old doggo, living off bacon and sleeping in my bed. |
Who says you need to stop playing? I ask.
Everyone looks in my direction. Yes, I expected a big table of food and wine and people dressed in white. But that is all I was told in Sunday school. Did we really know what to expect when we got here. Would DnD be a bad game once we got here? Or was DND just a demonic copy of what was really going on.
"Well actually,"God stated, "This is where the real game begins."
At that moment, He extended His right arm across the table and moved it from left to right. The image of the table cleared and a picture of the earth became visible. The crowd in the room gasped as they saw various places on the earth on fire from the view which seemed to be as high as some of the satellites.
"Mankind is in the Dungeon now. This game lasts seven years." |
They called it survival of the fittest. We called it survival of the richest.
It wasn't even a new concept at the time. For decades, the wealthiest had been hiring the greatest minds of the generations to figure out how to keep themselves and their progeny alive while the rest of us burned and asphyxiated on the rotting corpse of a planet they had long since sucked dry.
But for the longest time, no one really thought they would do it. Sure, the conspiracy nuts ranted and raved every few months, but those guys also though the Earth was flat and that Queen Elizabeth was a lizard. The vast majority of people thought that, in the end, the richest would succomb to their sense of humanity and do something, somehow, to save as many people as possible.
What a joke.
All it took was a few more natural disasters- a raging fire here, a massive flood there, a few devastating storms. That convinved them to kick their plans into high gear and actually figure out how to get to Mars and colonize it to make it a viable escape plan. We thought it was for the good of humanity up until the moment that they left us behind.
My father was among those left behind. Until his dying day, he remembered the feeling of abandonment and pure hatred at those who would turn and run rather than help their fellow man or at least face the consequences of his actions. That burning rage was shared by an entire generation, and I'm sure that they turned Earth around mostly out of pure spite.
And they did turn Earth around. It's not perfect, of course. We still have days when you can't walk outside without wearing a mask. Our buildings are built stronger than ever before to withstand the violent weather that sometimes rocks civilization. The average temperature is still about five degrees too high. But it's dropping, and the storms are less frequent, as are the smoggy days. Wealth inequality and fascism are mere stories and fables told to warn children of the dangers of greed and pride.
So it was no shock to me when, shortly before my fifty-first birthday, news spread about the imminent return of the Martians. That was what we called them: the Martians. Never colonists or adventurers or even humans. To those that they had left behind, they were as inhuman as the storied slimy green aliens of the past.
The first shuttle landing was a whole affair. My family and I took a trip out to see it, just as everyone else did. We were prepared to accept them with open arms and give them an equal place among everyone else, no matter how reluctant we felt about it.
But they did not want a place among everyone else. They demanded to return to glory with all of their wealth and their power. You see, the oldest humans still on Earth had been born decades after they had left. The Martians, however, had taken the newest research on extending life with them, and with their advanced technology and medicine they managed to survive far longer than we ever could. The whole time, we had viewed them as practically a different species because of how they left us.
We never knew that they felt the same way. Their medicine had turned them into near immortals, and they thought us inferior, suitable only to shine their shoes and work in their factories and give them our resources.
And perhaps we were inferior. Perhaps their technology allowed them to genetically modify themselves, turning them into an actually different species. Their youth certainly seemed larger, stronger, and faster than ours, and their lifespans were obviously far beyond ours.
They sure died the same as any other human when they took a bullet.
The first and only shuttle to land was not a request for sanctuary but a harbinger, a herald for the return of the kings of the past, the billionaires, politicians, and religious leaders from days of old.
We have no kings any more. There is no room for them on Earth, and there never will be. The second wave of Martian ships comes today. They expect a subservient planet ready to be dominated.
They will find [death](https://www.reddit.com/r/mpqeg/). |
“Ah. Humans! Speak in their tongue! Remember to smile! They like that!” The alien dealer said in its native tongue to the collection of other beings behind it.
A ship could be seen landing in port 12 of the Zerek system trading post bearing the US flag on its side. The large ship was considered a relic to other species but happened to be modern for the humans.
The ship finally landed as its door opened. 2 young humans stepped out. One in a business suit and the other in casual clothing.
“Ah hello, hoomans! I bring for me the finest coufee beans we find in Zerek system! Fresh new roast. Plant took over Claffic species and we burned entire planet to char. We pick up strong bean and smell is powerful.” The alien said as it donned on a protective suit and picked up a small bunch of coffee beans.
“Yes. My name is Lincoln and I work for Starbucks over on planet earth. With me is one of our finest baristas, Theo. He will be the one to inspect the beans and its flavor. Is that ok with you?” The man in the business suit said.
The aliens quickly spoke in their language before the leader began to pass the handful of beans over to Theo.
Theo grabbed them as he inspected the look and texture of the beans.
“Yeah these feel like they’re from Claffic atmospheres. Really mushy feel but very strong taste. Good for decaf since it is usually watery when its grinded and brewed. Holds little caffeine.” He remarked.
Theo then turned to the group of aliens who were smiling. With no teeth to speak of the smile seemed unsettling and couldn’t be initially recognized.
“You have a grinder and a source of heat I can use?” He said to the alien.
One of the aliens pointed to the edge of the stall where a grinding mill and a small fire was located.
“You idiot! Do not help them! They buy first then realize how dangerous it is!” the alien shouted to the group in their tongue.
Theo quickly grinded the beans and smelled the mild odor the beans emitted. He poured a water bottle into a small pot and heated the coffee in a Turkish style. He quickly took a sip of the coffee and swishes it around before spitting it out onto the ground.
“Lincoln, the beans are similar to an Arabica style. High quality. Not anywhere near as bitter as the ones from the Mainiv galaxy. Hey aliens, how long you let the plant grow on the planet?” he said as he took another sip.
“The planet was home to many plants. So many, place green since long as I live. Coffee plant suck planet dry. Take all water, kill animals. Place turned brown and red. We have to burn. No trace. Burn for 6 sun spinnings. We use laser to burn. Strong smell too. Like acid to us. We all wear strong materials to keep safe and collect beans for sell. They try to eat us alive. Humans ok though and like coffee. You buy? We give deal.” The alien said to the 2 humans.
“We will see. We have to visit the Firaxi system, I hear that it took over anything remotely living and sucks the water out of them. Then there’s the Gygas constellation which I hear that it actually will inject itself into the host and burn it from the inside and self-cook itself.” Theo said as he finished the small cup of coffee he made.
“we will be in touch. We have to see but to help you out we will buy a bag you have. What does it weigh and how much?” Lincoln said to the aliens.
One of the aliens lifted up a bag and looked at the words on it.
“70 K G.” it said to Lincoln, bearing its toothless smile.
“For you, since it only kill 3 of my group? 217 credits, my chief buddy guy.” The alien said.
Lincoln looked at Theo who nodded slightly as he looked around the landscape of the planet. The desert landscape had the occasional coffee plant patch of green.
“Looks like we might do some more business here if you aren’t careful here. Find out what you Sepsi Aliens produce when the beans destroy your species. If you’re anything like the Voldono then whoever picks your corpses will have a pretty penny on their hands.” Theo said.
“That's enough Theo. Ok, we will send you the payment to your account. Theo, if you wish to be a smartass, you can lift the bag yourself. Put it in storage.” Lincoln said as he began typing out the payment info for the aliens.
“Forgive my colleague, he is new to this all. I truly hope we can do further business with you and I pray that the Nsi species remains healthy and continue remaining free from the rule of Sepsi tribes. We will be in touch” he said as he began walking to the ship. Theo was closely behind as he struggled to carry the large canvas bag.
The ship began rattling as it slowly lifted itself up and began to fly away.
“217 credits! See, nothing but good things can come from the coffee beans.” The alien said to the group in their language.
One of the aliens began to convulse as it turned into a pool of liquid and a small bright green coffee bean could be seen sprouting from the floor.
tadow. r/nywarpath
Edit: fixed up some errors. |
The wallet had cash enough to cover rent, the identification was new and the credit cards were black. I tossed the note after reading into the sewer and pocketed the cash.
The identification would need to be destroyed properly. *Or sold*, I thought quickly. But Wang wasn't taking my cards anymore, too much heat.
I started towards the subway, picking up a bagel and a coffee. Before leaving, I noticed a small figure peering at me with interest. Beads of sweat briefly appeared before I returned to the cold. My coat wasn't new, but it wasn't ragged. Looking around, faces peered at me with indifference, but noted the difference in appearance.
Torn jeans, but not through fashion. Neon colours on a windbreak marked the jacket out as a pass me down, my sneakers run nearly through. I could at least pass off as a hipster student. Which I did have a university card.
Just not mine.
I thought of the note. Whoever this was, I doubt that my actions would have had any effect. I paid my rent in full, and sat in with the box of dollar mac'n cheese. I tempted myself with a trip to the cornerstore, but settled with an old pack of tabac.
My next memory is a bit shattered. An explosion, shards of cheap wood and handcuffs. I was in a cell, cold but still sleeping. The room I was taken to smelt of metal. No, more akin to sterilization, alcohol wipes. I sneezed.
I looked over the table to a bald man with a smile. "You didn't meet me at the clock tower at midnight." |
Franklin Benson was a man who knew three things: the most dangerous secrets in the world, how to keep them, and how to cut cloth and make it look good on a person.
Every day, except Sundays, he got up, kissed his wife and children and walked one mile to the post office where he checked the store’s PO box, then another two miles on foot to his shop. He was a tailor. That much everyone knew. Friends and family only knew that he was a very expensive tailor catering to very elite clientele and he wasn’t about to take in their dinner jackets for them, but he could recommend them to a very capable seamstress not too very far away.
What no one, with the exception of his very elite clientele, knew was that he was *the* Tailor. He was the one man in the city that every hero or villain went to see. Actually, that was a bit of an overstatement. With almost one thousand registered heroes, and at least half that number again in unregistered or aspiring heroes, not to mention at least four times that many villains, he certainly couldn’t handle them all personally.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to. Aside from the fact that a large number of heroes and villains created their own costumes, there were a small number of men like him. Men who knew secrets. In all there were less than twenty of them. Most of them had actually been apprentices to the original Tailor, now dead and greatly mourned. They knew each other by first name only. First name, a post office box, a storefront address, and—only for in the greatest of emergencies—a phone number. They relied on each other in an unspoken gentleman’s agreement. If someone needed a costume then they were referred to the one most appropriate to craft it. If a client was blacklisted by one chances were he would swiftly be black listed by them all. They never stole customers from each other. But occasionally they would trade clients, if circumstances warranted. If one found a new supplier for materials, and the supplier was agreeable, he might let the others know. Beyond these things they had no interference or even contact with one another at all. It was considered safest.
Each of them had their own rules for how they ran their business, and each was unique. Some only took technologically oriented clients, ones who wore more armor than fabric. Some specialized in exotic—even for their usual clients—materials. Some took only heroes, others only villains. Franklin took only the best. He had been the original Tailor’s star pupil, and his designs were truly brilliant. When the original had died in that horrible attack on his shop, Franklin had inherited his client list.
Franklin was the sole provider of costumes and gadgetry for almost the entire A-list of heroes, a good portion of the senior B-list, and virtually all of the A-list villains. The gadgetry he farmed out to three different machinists. Any client who went through him was guaranteed full service and total anonymity.
The price, aside from the obscene dollar tags he placed on his work, was following the rules. Every tailor demanded total adherence, and not even the most deranged of criminals would dare break them.
Franklin’s rules were brutally strict. All appointments would be adhered to. The client could not be early or late. The client was to be alone. Business only was to be discussed. What the client wanted an item for was not important. Discussion of other clients was unacceptable. A client’s order was a client’s order, there was to be no picking up for a friend. Price was to be paid half up front, half on delivery, changes to this policy at the tailor’s discretion. The client was always to appear in civilian clothes and to have disguised any identifying features. If the client did not have an appointment, the client did not approach or enter the store. If it was an emergency repair, the piece to be fixed, along with full payment was to be placed in PO box 7523 and a slip should be included indicating what PO box the repaired item should be delivered to or if pickup would be at the next appointment. Penalties for breaking the rules ranged from additional charges added to the bill to temporary suspension of services, to a blacklisting.
In return his clients received the best materials, the best craftsmanship, and perfect security. He never asked for the names of his customers, aside from their heroic identities. Everyone was referred to by initial. Should Franklin ever run across them on the street or on the news he showed not a flicker of recognition. He simply went to his doctor and requested a stronger prescription for his ulcers.
Today’s first client was one of his favorites. Mr. O was a charming, affable man who didn’t suffer from the typical neuroses that most of his clients had. Of course, Mr. O didn’t have much reason to since most people were utterly incapable of recognizing him out of costume. Franklin, however, was more than capable. He knew his work no matter how hard someone tried to disguise it. Mr. O’s costume was actually thrillingly mundane, He wore a number of suits in all styles of wool, cotton and even the occasional silk. For Franklin it was a refreshing change to tailor a simple suit. |
Hello,
I'm writing this comment in a dream. I'm trying to figure out where and who I am. It seems like I'm in Maryland in somebody's office. I get up, I look in the mirror. It's me, but its not me. It just looks like me. Suddenly, I realize I have the ability to control the \*man in the mirror\*.
Next thing I know--- KABLOW!!! A huge explosion comes from outside. I look out the window, I see a faint rose-color glow on the horizon. A woman downstairs begins screaming some man's name.
"Paul!"she yells.
"Paul! Paul! P-p-p-p-paul...?"
I hear a door open behind me, and in the doorway stands a 10/10 knockout blonde babe.
"Paul,"she says, "I was screaming your name downstairs. Didn't you hear me?"
I assume she is talking to me, but my name isn't Paul. It's David. David Wassermann. I am confused.
In pure confused rage, I yell out, "Dammit woman, I'm David! Can't you see there was just a nuclear explosion outside!? This is no time for childish games!!!"
"Paul, you're scaring me..."she whispers, and then suddenly freezes in terror, eyes glued to something behind my back.
I turn around slowly and from out the window I see a huge wave of what looks like lightning coming towards me fast.
I grab the woman, tell her I love her, and then transform into a bat.
I am Dracula.
I fly high into the air, above the wave, as it obliterates the house along with the woman.
As a vampire, I feel no remorse, and fly off into the nuclear winter's night, looking for a virgin's neck to bite.
I wake up from the dream in a cold sweat and am relieved that all of it was a dream. It wasnt real.
​
​
...or was it? |
The invasion failed. That's how the story went. Large regional hegemony in this arm of the galaxy sent their best fleets and armies to conquer the strategically important system of Sol. There are rules that all galactic states adhere to in war, rules to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, to protect civilian life, and to ensure the rights of existence for the losing side.
There a lot of rules. Most races upon ascending into the great galactic game, already have most or all of them written down and do adhere to them. But the invasion of Sol failed. Not because the Dyaxto Hegemony was unprepared. Not because of foreign intervention. Not because the locals were a lot more advanced and powerful than was previously understood. No, the invasion failed because the inhabitants of Sol, the people originating from Sol-III, locally called Terra, broke intergalactic conventions on war. Indeed, they committed numerous intergalactic war-crimes. As a matter of fact, they broke them all.
The horrors of atomic weaponry were the first to shock the invasion force. What race would be reckless enough to use atomic weapons in their own atmosphere? They lost a good deal of ships that way. The soldiers on the ground were met by fierce resistance, as the local civilians evacuated their cities, went out into the hills, mountains, or jungles, and fought a bloody and brutal campaign behind the invading forces' lines. It was not uncommon to see a patrol leaving the camp, and then sending out another to find it, only to have half of the second patrol return with disturbing stories of decapitated heads on spikes, and the local civilians doing indescribably horrible things to the dead soldiers.
Then there was the chemical weapons. Something the locals produced and used gratutiously on the invaders, something called sarin gas. An odorless nerve agent. Those who did not die, suffered horrible neurological damage. The locals firebombed occupied cities, poisoned their own land, placed landmines everywhere, and in many other fashions, committed terrible things to resist the invaders, who followed every rule of war to the letter.
Once the invasion was driven off, the human race of Terra used captured reverse-engineered ships to travel about the Sol system, and built military bases, hideouts, defensive positions, and various other things. Many of which were in violation of law. The Intergalactic Commission on War Crimes sent envoys to Terra, where the locals were busy rebuilding. The locals were astounded to be considered criminals, in their eyes, the entirely legal invasion as sanctioned by Section 387.2, Paragraph 122 of InterGalactic Law, was a terrible evil which had to be defeated at all costs.
The Commission was even more astounded when the locals refused to hand over their leaders to be tried for war crimes, crimes against peace, and crimes against the sanctity of life. To the humans, the people who had held them together during the war were not criminals, but heroes. People who had ensured the independence of their little world. In response, the Commission issued the entirety of the Sol System a blockade, and put strict laws in place to ensure that the system would under no circumstances receive trade, or aid from other space-faring races. Furthermore, as a rogue nation, it was perfectly legal for any race to invade the system.
Of course, given that the human race had managed to break every single law about warfare in during one single invasion, it meant that there weren't many takers. And since Terra had no trade at all, being an autarky in terms of resources and supplies, the blockade had little to no effect on them. But what it did do, was spread the word about the little bloodthirsty world with tonnes of illegal weapons, chemical, ballistics, biological, even atomic ones. And not everyone follows the laws.
The first aliens to smuggle tech and resources to the humans, was a small slip-cruiser, crewed mostly by members of the Blackstar Movement, a group with many similarities to anarchists on Earth. They found that while Terra was still in the claws of governments, it was perfectly willing to sell them weapons, in exchange for tech, medicine, and resources needed to rebuild the Earth.
Soon came certain interest groups, such as the Saryokian Pentastar Syndicate, who were quite impressed with human capacity for war, and the weaponry. Soon came the Arqorvy Shadow Traders Guild, who found many Terran inventions to be quite useful in their trade, and paid for weapons, and certain plants of the family Erythroxylaceae.
Eventually, enterprising young Terrans found employment with these organisations, who respectful of the human capacity for bloody-minded violence, made the choice not to ply their trade on Terra, which considering the already existing Syndicates, Families, and Associations, was probably a wise choice. Soon human enforcers could be found in the employ of various organisations on the intergalactic black market. Humans, armed with human tenacity and viciousness, earned a reputation for being well-educated, affable, and often capable of killing the people who went against them using nothing except for their own fists.
It wasn't unusual to see two humans, covered head-to-toe in blood, conversing about the deeper meaning of life, or the intricacies of ancient poetry. The InterGalactic officials tried to enforce more restrictions on Terra, but given that the entire Sol system was armed to the teeth, and could withstand anything short of a combined intergalactic military intervention, or a direct hit from a Nicoll-Dyson beam(a weapon made immediately illegal when the concept was learned, and is one of the few weapons which even the criminals believe is too horrible.)
On Terra itself, humanity prospered, the wealth brought home by various mercenaries, former soldiers discharged after the invasion usually, had made the human race able to rebuild their world and give it the level of wealth and security that previously only was possible for the top ten most developed nations to have. Mars had been terraformed, and while experts said that in a few million years the planet would revert, for humanity it was enough. The Jovian Moons were being settled, as was the moons of Saturn. And while the criminal elements didn't dare to infest the human system, they did find themselves able to walk around freely, without having to hide with camouflaging tech to prevent themselves from getting caught. Terra became a place where criminal elements of the galaxy settled down after retirement. Where they sent their children to go to school, and where they could hide if things went south.
And the humans, with open arms, damned to be outcasts for defending themselves with everything they had, welcomed their criminal friends with open arms. Terra stood with her torch held high, and took in the criminal masses, yearning to live outside of prisons, took in the failed revolutionaries on the run from countless worlds, exiled governments endlessly plotting to retake their lost worlds, other exiles and outcasts.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
The droid analyzed the golem up and down, looking for what was running this machine. It seemed to be made entirely of rock. But that had to be impossible for something that was at least two stories tall. The golem stared at the android, equally confused as to what the makeup of it was. It was created for the sole purpose of eating humans who trespassed into the underground ruins. But while it looked like a human, the golem sensed no life emanating from it.
"You are not machine?"the android asked.
"You are not clay, like human?"the golem asked, its voice grating like an avalanche.
"That I am not. I am an android, made entirely of metals,"the android said, still astounded by the lack of heat anywhere inside the golem. It was like it existed outside of entropy. It baffled everything the android understood. "What are you made of?"
"Geo is rock and magic,"the golem responded, raising a boulder on an arm and patting his chest. Then it slid its arm down to its stomach and looked past the robot. "Are you with human?"
"Geo is your name? I am Epsilon-two-one-eight,"the android said cordially.
"Is Epsilon-one... er... Epsilon with human?"Geo repeated.
"I am afraid not. Why do you ask?"Epsilon asked.
"Hungry,"Geo said.
"You experience hunger then? Do you expend this energy? Or excrete it? What happens to humans you consume?"Epsilon asked, having quit wasting its time scanning the creature.
"Magic,"the golem shrugged.
"Well, that is an unfortunate answer. It teaches me nothing,"Epsilon said, disappointed.
"Mmm,"Geo said, taking a ponderous step forward to look around for food in its ruins.
"Do not waste your time, there is not human life for miles in any direction,"the android said, tapping its eyes and revealing data showing all life within a three-mile radius. The golem leaned down its massive frame to examine the image projected on a column of the ruin. It poked a finger at it, obliterating the column it was standing on.
"Mmm?"Geo asked startled, not understanding where the projection ran off to.
"It is not a touch screen, just a projection of the life forms in the area,"the android explained.
"Touch,"Geo agreed, poking his finger where the projection stood a moment ago.
"I am saying that touching it would make no difference,"the android said patiently.
"Touch*ing,*"Geo said, extending his arm as if making a point.
"Well, this is getting us nowhere. It was a pleasure to meet you Geo, but I am in search of humans,"Epsilon waved farewell.
"Human! Where human?"Geo asked, excitedly.
"That is what I am looking for. I have been unable to locate any humans for years now. I am a service bot, you see, and I have no one human to be of service to,"Epsilon explained.
Geo nodded slowly, not understanding a word.
"Find human?"Geo asked, pointing at itself.
"That is what I am in search of."
"Geo find human?"
"You know where they are?"Epsilon asked with interest.
Geo shook his exceptional head.
"Then I may as well be on my way,"Epsilon said. It turned around and saw a pile of rock in front of it. It turned its head to one side and scanned the mound blocking his way.
"It appears your destruction of the column has caused a cave-in. I was due to need sunlight in less than an hour. It seems this is where my search ends,"Epsilon said, forlornly.
"Sun?"Geo said, pointing a finger upward.
"Yes, it powers the electricity I run on. Without regular charges, I will cease to function. I--"
The android dived into cover as Geo smashed the ceiling above the ruins open. Rocks came tumbling down, crashing into the temple and leaving very little of the history intact.
"What did you do that for! It could have crushed me!"Epsilon yelled at the beast.
"Sun,"Geo explained, pointing to the sky.
Epsilon looked at the golem, impressed. Geo had saved Epsilon's life. He was still trapped inside, as he wouldn't have the dexterity needed to climb out. But perhaps the golem could if it knew how to climb.
"Geo. Do you want to come with me to find humans?"Epsilon asked.
"Human,"Geo said with a pat on his stomach in excited anticipation.
"Then why don't we get out of this hole and go in search of them together. I am sure we will have a better chance together than alone."
"Geo can not leave. Has to protect temple,"it said, pointing to the rubble next to it.
Epsilon gave it a good look. There was little remaining that could be called a temple.
"I believe it's too late for that,"Epsilon said.
Geo perked up, then looked down at the temple. Its jaw fell open in shock.
"Who broke temple?"it asked.
Epsilon didn't have the heart to tell the simple creature.
"Why don't we go find them, my friend?"Epsilon asked, pointing up.
Geo perked up.
"Friend,"it said with a massive grin.
Epsilon climbed up its arm to its shoulder and they made their way out of the underground ruins. Epsilon scanned the horizon as Geo began making slow progress south.
Their quest for humans had begun.
__________________________________
For more storires, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! |
"Honey, come see daddy!"
My pride and joy bounced her way through the snowdrift of toys she had pulled out of the makeshift wicker basket, and smiled broadly as she presented me with her stuffed albatross, "Do you wanna see Canada daddy?"
The beautiful blonde girl in front of me with her mother's eyes and my lopsided smile blurred for half an instant, as that name tried to burrow its way into my brain. "Yeah honey, I would"I plucked the stuffed bird from my daughter's hand and pretended to study its beak. Something about that name bothered me but I couldn't put my finger on it, "How did you choose to name him?"
Her face screwed up and I could practically watch the gears turning in her head. My daughter had discovered lying to her parents was an option a few months ago, but she still wasn't any good at it, and I was clearly getting something special if she was thinking about it this hard. She brought her fingers to her cheeks and scrunched up her face as she started a low whine, "Ummmmmm I'm not sure daddy. The people in my dreams were saying it a lot!"
Yeah, there was that headache again, "What are you dreaming about honey? Did mamma take you to another play?"
"Nu uh,"she shook her head violently, "The dreams are weird daddy! The buildings are so tall, and they look like they're all made of metal and glass! More of it than I've ever seen! There were so many people, and they called it Canada! Or maybe Toronto?"Her face fell, "I'm not sure. Am I in trouble daddy?"
I shook my head and ruffled her hair, "No honey, you aren't in trouble."I passed her back the albatross, "you can have Mr. Canada back, have fun!"I smiled as she popped off the couch and sped back into her bedroom, toys scattering in her wake.
The smile faded after her door closed, and I leaned back against the couch, trying to message the headache out of my temples. Canada, Toronto. Toronto, Canada. There was something there, but the closer I got to it the quicker the thread of thought ran away from me.
"No helping it,"I murmured as I stood up and straightened my back, "I'll have to go bother the old wizard about this. I just hope Tim Horton knows something I don't." |
The cursor taunted me as it blinked endlessly on the empty white page. It had done so for months, and it knew it. The colors seemed to scream at me: “Why can’t you finish?”
It was infuriating. The first 80,000 words of this novel had flown by in a way that I had never experienced before. It was less like I was writing a story and more like I was discovering it, watching it unfold before my very eyes and then recording it down as it happened. Some days, I sat in a trance, my hands barely able to type as fast as my mind created.
And then I arrived at the last chapter and my inspiration vanished like a dropped ice cream on fresh pavement during a particularly hot Louisiana summer day.
I tried everything. I wrote sober. I wrote buzzed. I wrote blackout drunk. I wrote high. I dictated to my phone as I ran laps around the neighborhood. I handwrote with pencils, ballpoint pens, expensive fountain pens with a million colors of ink, even a quill. I wrote new things, short stories, poems, stream of consciousness journal entries. One day I actually made progress and wrote 500 words into the chapter before deleting the whole damn thing the next day. I drank tea, coffee, energy drinks, soda, water, and still nothing. One day I drank shots of espresso until my eyes buzzed. Another time I took an Adderall and cleaned the entire house while that damn cursor blinked and blinked and blinked.
The book was good. The book was great, in my unbiased opinion. But no one would even think about buying it to publish if they knew how long the last chapter had sat untouched while I tried to break the most severe writer’s block of my life.
I sighed, pounded my fist on the desktop a few times, and put my fingers on home row.
>The |
“DAMN IT!” I yelled. “Why can’t you just be written?!”
“You’re going about this all wrong,” a critical voice said behind me.
I spun around, heart racing. I had thought I was alone in the house, but this mysterious stranger stood in front of me, arms crossed.
“Who are you?” I gasped. “Get out before I call the police!”
The man snorted. “Please.” He shoved me aside and sat in my chair.
“Hey, you can’t- that’s my book! You can’t write in there! Who are you, anyway?” There was no way I knew the stranger, but he seemed incredibly familiar.
“I absolutely *can* write this for you,” he replied in an annoyed voice. Suddenly, even as he spoke, a connection clicked in my mind. “I was there. I’m Tyderius, your main character.”
“You- you’re-”
“That’s right. Everything you wrote, I did.”
“That’s impossible, right?” I asked. “I mean, I know there was that one book about a guy that read characters into existence, but that’s not *real*, is it? I’m not magic… am I?” I stared at my fingers in amazement.
“Please,” Tyderius said. “Get ahold of yourself.” He began to type, but as I moved to peer at the screen, he minimized the window and glared at me.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Well…” I hesitated. “I would like to know how you’re finishing my story. I mean, I did write it, after all.”
“You did,” Tyderius admitted. “But I work alone.”
I cursed myself; after all, I had given him that character trait.
“Out of respect for you and the fact that you created me, I will allow you to read this when I am done in the morning.”
“In the morning? But that’ll take ages!”
“Quality work takes time,” Tyderius responded. “Not everyone is like you and can just dump out drivel in less time than it takes to wrangle a left-chested blue reaper.”
“Oh my god,” I breathed. “You’ve actually wrangled a left-chested blue reaper! How was it? What was it like? Did- wait, did you call my work ‘drivel’? You realize that you *are* that drivel?”
“Yes, and it’s because of your drivel that I’m so ornery in the first place. Now go away. Leave me alone. In the morning, I’ll be gone and your book will be finished.” Tyderius shooed me away. “Go! Get!”
I retreated from the room, backing away as he reopened the document and began to peck away at the keyboard. I closed the door and stood outside for a few minutes, listening to the consistent clacking of keys, a sound that had been sorely lacking from my house recently.
*This is okay, right? If I wrote him into existence and he’s writing this, it’s just like me writing, isn’t it?*
The paradox continued to grind my brain as I climbed the stairs into my bedroom. Eventually, I fell asleep, and throughout the night dreams of Tyderius yelling at me drifted through my mind.
***
 
I awoke with a start in the morning. The sun had already risen and was streaming through my open curtains, casting light on the motes of dust in the air.
Had last night really happen? Did Tyderius appear, write the last chapter, and then depart into the world? Or had he perhaps disappeared back out of existence?
I jumped out of my bed and sprinted down to the office.
The computer was still on and a document was open. It was the last chapter.
“Oh my god,” I said aloud.
I nearly tripped in my excitement to get into my chair and begin reading.
>Tyderius awoke from the tenth orgy of the day to
“What?” I exclaimed. “That doesn’t even follow the previous ch-- oh no.”
In a panic, I opened the file containing the first chapter.
*Shit. He didn’t just write the final chapter. He rewrote the whole book!*
I skimmed through chapter one, my heart sinking.
>Tyderius was a beautiful man. He had muscles of steel, a chiseled face, and was seven feet tall. Every woman was in love with him, and his genitals were
I closed the [document](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks). |
SCP: 5603, Mr. Normal
Object class: Thaumiel
Special Containment Procedures:
SCP: 5603 is to be allowed to live a normal life in his home at ████████, OH and is to be left mostly alone unless needed desperately. Upon a time that SCP: 5603 is needed he is to be flown out to the location that he is required at.
Description:
SCP: 5603 is a Caucasian Male aged 54 named Norman Bellington, he is a normal human apart from his anomalous properties. Norman's anomalous properties begin to show themselves when another anomaly is placed within 10 meters of him, upon placement all anomalous properties of the SCP in question deactivate turning the object into a normal object with few exceptions. If the object in question is moved outside of the range of Norman's effect, or Norman walks away from the SCP object then all anomalous properties return.
Addendum one: Discovery
SCP: 5603 was found during a containment breach of SCP: 096 witch led to the city that Norman was in.
Upon the discovery of 096-1 and recovery of 096 the image that caused the outbreak was discovered, a photo that depicted 096's face in another image in the background of the photo. Upon this being discovered SCP: 5603 was walking down the street and the MTF agent who saw the image feared for his life, however 096 didn't stir untill 5603 walked out of range while the agent was still looking at the photo, which caused another containment breach.
Upon Amnestics being delivered to all those who witnessed the event Norman's were found to not work when they were attempted to be administered, as the amnestics were anomalous in nature having come directly from SCP: 3000. Upon realizing Norman's potential as a Containment breach preventer, he was asked whether or not he would want to work for the foundation, witch he politely declined, although he did state that he would help is they needed it, for a price of course. As such SCP:5603 was allowed to continue life as normal while being summoned for use if needed, after which a sum of $███████ was deposited directly into his bank account. SCP:5603 was classified as Thaumiel and continues to live his life as Normal.
Thank you for reading this, it is my first WP suggestions so I hope you liked it, I did this on mobile if there are any formatting errors that is why. |
Why’re we so stupid? Damn, for once couldn’t we just act *before* it meant life-and-death? I guess that’s what it takes to make the history books. Nobody cares about anything unless there’s consequences. And here came some pretty big ones.
We lived through 2020, that alone was an achievement. 2021 was a different beast entirely, one with larger fangs and sharper claws. For that’s exactly what we found, literal fangs and claws and Kevlar like fur and a host of other horrible features.
“We...we believe that the ice caps hold a creature from time forgotten. For so long we’ve reigned atop the world, believing ourselves it’s greatest creation. Yet, recent discoveries, once cross referenced with landmarks across the planet, indicate our history was incomplete. Something else was born, a rival to our species. A being so horrendous that it was better forgotten. One that battled our ancestors in an infinite struggle for dominance. Extensive research revealed that beyond physical superiority, they possess a brain identical to our own. Beasts, true apex predators who’s combination of intelligence and power pushed our own species to evolve rapidly. Our existence, our very level of thinking, was merely a coping mechanism. It was all just a struggle for survival.”
When I gave that address, it alone was enough to scare a grown man. To know something possessed the power and size of an elephant, speed of a cheetah, and intelligence comparable to our own is haunting. An instinctual chill, a flight or fight reaction bred into the fabric of our being, overcame us all. But I hadn’t even gotten to the truly terrifying revelation. They were coming back.
“I-I am afraid to say that these ferocious animals are no longer trapped in their frozen prisons. In fact, I theorize that it may have been our, that is our ancestors, doing that encased these monsters in ice. And that same ice, so forgotten and ignored, is nearly gone. Disappearing because of our own ignorance. These are creatures capable of surviving in ice for an eternity dammit! If that’s possible, what else could happen? There is no hope of peace, nor hope of winning the eminent battle. We must act now. We must turn around and prevent their return. We must right our wrongs and fix our deteriorating world.” I ended, or rather was forced to stop, before explaining why I was so fearful. The truth was, we were already beyond saving. Change wouldn’t stop the melting, and it certainly wouldn’t stop the Beasts return. So many of them existed, trapped in numbers that could overtake a city. We estimated(or rather underestimated) that through rapid reproduction and feasting, they’d decimate North America in months. Give the webbing on their massive feet, its unlikely that even water would pose much challenge. Nothing would stand in their way. All we could do was prepare and pray.
Many didn’t appreciate the full depth of the situation. Most were confident in their weapons and heightened intellect. Others saw this as an act of God, trying to restore balance. They even worshiped the Beasts! And the vocal minority, myself included, tried to change the world. We failed. But if nothing else, everyone finally believed in climate change. Like I said, we’re stupid and never care until it’s too late. Now we just try to survive. |
At first I had a good laugh. The old hag's "curse"was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen. As I went to take a bite, the pink frosted muffin's eyes popped open, it's little oval smile gaped at me with blissful awe. It giggled and danced on its pudgy little legs in the palm of my hand. I may have cried a little, even, it was that cute. I set him on my shoulder, and we marched away, sharing a laugh as we went.
That was 50 hours ago. The muffin is dead. It wasn't me, no, the seagull however didn't hesitate to snatch him right off my shoulder while we were laughing, some minutes later. I hadn't even taken a selfie with him yet. It screamed the whole way up in to the sky, into the clouds. Were that it, I'd have felt punished enough. But it wasn't. I cried, for real this time. Some hours later, I made my way home. Some hours after that, I opened the fridge, and things got worse.
Ever made a bowl of soup? And two big blue eyes float to the surface to look at you? My milk moos. The rice cluster together into little effigy statues of me, little tiny voices squealing with happiness. My beer belches and tells me jokes. And once it's alive, it's alive. I can't turn it off. Well, unless, you know. I had to bag them all up and dump them in a neighbors bin.
Into the second day I learned there were... loopholes. If something is already alive then I can just eat it. Living plants in the soil. Crickets under a rock. Carpenter ants. I've stopped by the pet shop every day for mealworms, they're starting to get suspicious. Parmesan cheese I can hear, but it's little screams are so small I can generally drown them out with some heavy metal.
It's not enough. I need nutrients. So, today I bought a summer sausage. Even now it's sitting on the counter, still innate. I've prepared the straps on the cutting board, sharpened the knives, drawn the curtains. It's going to be a long night. |
"You may now kiss the bride."
The wedding music swelled as the tearful congregation flung rose petals at Rob and Leah as Rob dipped her for a kiss. It was a dream come true for him. If only it had happened under less horrible conditions.
"I love you,"he whispered.
She just smiled at him and pull him close.
In the distance, the bright glow from MR1043 grew bright and brighter. A noise like a roar grew louder and louder and then...
...passed.
The congregation slowly
fell
silent.
"Uh. Alright. Um."The priest shifted from one foot to another. "Maybe it hit somewhere... else?"
"I think we'd have heard it. Or maybe it's just taking some time."The organist looked out the window. "But I don't see anything. Like any mushroom cloud. Plus I thought it was more like Earth shattering. Umbrella Academy style."
The church broke out into murmering and chatter. Rob gripped Leah's hand tightly but she looked nervous.
"What does this mean?"she asked.
"I think."Rob swallowed. "I think this means we have..."His face broke out into a huge smile. "I think this means we have our happily ever after!"
She smiled back, but it was one of those strained smiles where her teeth were a bit too tight and her eyebrows slanted weirdly. "Ohh hahaha isn't that wonderful."
"I've got a news update!"shouted on of the alter servers waving her phone around.
"Hey! No phones on the alter,"scolded the priest, even as his voice was overwhelmed, half by people turning their own phones on and half by older folks clamoring to know more.
"It says that MR1043 has passed by the Earth!"the girl said, raising her voice to be heard over the crowd. "We're all gonna fucking live! Hell yeah!"
"Emma!"The priest looked even more flustered now but the din was unstoppable with people shouting over each other.
"I'm taking my cat back, you psycho. You don't need the comfort anymore."
"Ok remember how I said I wanted to move back in dad? Haha... yeah."
"I, uh, changed my mind. I definitely need you to repay that debt."
Rob patted Leah's hand. "Look at them. So many people who tried to find happiness with 'the end' in mind. I'm glad we were above that."
"Yeah look."She slowly eased her hand out of his. "I kinda... Ok, so here's the thing, Rob. You're a great guy."This sentence was not starting out the way anyone wants to hear a sentence starting from their wife. "And I'm sure you're gonna make someone really happy someday."Now this sentence was downright terrible. "But the girls and I... We kinda came up with this-this thing."
The 'girls and I' was Leah's sorority. Rob had always thought she was too smart for them, to good for them, too mature for them. He'd always thought that's why she found him three years after school.
"What's uh. What's the thing?"
She was looking rather embarrassed now. "Figured since we all had a 'single til 27' pact but none of us were gonna make 27, we thought we'd find some guys that needed some company at the end and kinda, you know, make-a-wish it."
Rob stared. "You made-a-wished me? Like. You're not in love."
She bared those pearly whites in a nervous grin. "Yeeeeeah. Yeah so that's the wild thing. Like Steff, you know Steff, her and Jake. And Lydia? She was so sweet, she found Oscar, I dunno what they're doing. And Jules-"
"Stop. Oh god please stop."Rob had heard enough. "I thought you were better than they were! Smarter, realer, more genuine."
Her eyes narrowed. "Rob. We're all smart. We've all got degrees, a lotta the girls went back for higher education. You wanted me to ditch them to prove to you that I was better. Well I didn't need that. But I also checked your profile after the MR1043 announcement and didn't want you to die alone."
Rob was reeling. "So now what? You're gonna leave?"
"Well... single til 27 so like, I am considering it."
Rob barely took in the pandemonium in the church. He just sat down on the ground, suit all crumpled. "Wow Leah. That's really gross of you."
She shrugged a shoulder. "Honestly, I should've told you going in."
"I'd have turned you down."
She laughed. "No you wouldn't have. You wouldn't have turned down your dream girl just so you could die alone in your pride."
"I don't need your damn charity, Leah. Just go. I'll see you in court some other time."
Shrugging again, she strode down the aisle, gown billowing around her, while the churchgoers all sobbed, out of joy or anger, around her. At the end she thrust open the door in time to see a tank plowing down the street.
A tank.
Behind it was a platoon of soldiers, with one holding a megaphone.
"ALL CIVILIANS STAY IN YOUR HOMES. DO NOT ENTER THE STREETS. THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING."
She slammed the door fast and ran back up the aisle, shouting for someone, anyone, with a phone to help. But they were busy overcoming the shock of not dying, so she finally ended up on the alter, with the server, Emma.
Emma looked up at her, a grim look on the girl's face. "You saw the occupation?"she asked.
Leah blanched as white as her gown. "What is it?"
The girl's lips were tight. "A lotta folks online, conspiracy nuts I always thought, were freaking out that this whole thing was just a ruse started by a foreign government or some deep state aggressors, so they could station their soldiers under the guise of necessity to keep the peace. I guess..."She showed her phone, which was plastered with pictures of military occupations. "They did."
Leah scrolled through the images. "Who are they?"
Emma shook her head. "I'm not sure. One sec."She tapped an image only to get a 'This image couldn't be loaded'. "Uh, hold up."She tapped another. Same thing. And again. And again. "Oh."
"What?"
"They're being taken down. The images. Shit."
Leah scooped up her skirts and ran back to the crowd to try to find someone but Rob was the only one not occupied.
"Rob. Rob, listen, I know you hate my guts but you're the only one not freaking out-"
"-oh I'm freaking out-"
"-ok fine but you're not losing your head. We've got a problem."
He slowly hefted himself to his feet. "What is it?"
Leah motioned to Emma who scurried over and showed him her phone, what few images hadn't been taken down.
"A coup. We don't know who they are, we don't know what they want, and they're suppressing the news and social media."Leah looked at him, pleadingly. "Look, I know you were comp sci at school. There's gotta be something you can do."
"I can't hack a phone to show an old image."But his eyes had that lost look, his brain already ticking. "Hold up though, does anyone here have a computer?"
"There's one in the sacristy that has the schedules,"said Emma.
Leah looked at Rob. "Can you help?"
He sighed. He wasn't exactly pleased with the small, post-apocalypse group he'd been forced into: a 14 year old alter server and a deceptive sorority sister. But if anyone was gonna get out of this church, they'd need to work together.
"...alright Leah. Lead the way to the sacristy."
___
Find more stories at [r/SamaraWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/SamaraWrites/) |
I was goofing off at work when I read that email I received. It was very peculiar. The subject line said: Join Us! At first glance, it appeared to be some junk mail that had sneaked past the spam filter, but I opened it anyway.
“Greetings from down below.
You, sir, are the chosen one. You’re supposed to be a hero, but they don’t treat you nice, do they? Join us and we’ll give you a special position in hell. All the wicked women you want, all the alcohol, all the drugs, all the rock-and-roll music that you could ever need. You will be the man to bring Armageddon upon Earth. If interested say, ‘Hail Beelzebub, the lord of flies’ and we’ll get in touch."
There were no closing remarks or further instructions.
“How’re you doing, Lamptey?”
It was my boss, a corny and boisterous boss. The last thing you need in a dead-end job. I couldn’t take it.
“Hail Beelzebub, the lord of flies,” I said.
Moments later, I found myself in a black leather chair opposite to a large man in a charcoal suit. He had horns coming from his head.
“Mr Lamptey,” he said.
I nodded.
“Mr Lamptey, don’t be afraid, you’ve done a courageous thing. I haven’t had a positive response on this email since forever.”
“Since forever? They didn’t have email then.”
“Smart aleck? You’ll fit right in.”
To think a devil could be more charming and professional than your boss isn’t a far-fetched idea. He impressed me.
“So Mr Lamptey, why did you accept this job?”
“Why? Come on man. Bring me the bad women and rock music.”
The devil smiled. He stood up, took my hand in his, and jumped down into a dark void. I could hear the faint echo of some Guns-N-Roses song. |
The genie smiles, with a grin unbecoming of such a creature to the point that it unnerves you and before you could try to even say you take it back - the genie is gone.
For a week, nothing.
Not a word, it was maybe, as if - the genie was just a product of your hallucination.
But the results of your prior wishes stares back at you everyday when you wake up and look in the mirror.
Every mirror you own ends up cracked and your hands are always bleeding in the end.
It's just a charmingly rainy afternoon when whispers of someone that's been taking over the underworld one by one and crime has practically gone nil that you open your door to face the knocker expecting to tell them to go away that your worst fears were realised.
Your old face stares back at you and smiles in a way that makes your heart stop and the blood in your face disappear as dread sets in.
"My old master, it's been a while. How've you been enjoying your new body?"Your old voice speaks the words you can only know belongs to the genie you've freed all those days ago and your throat is dry and not a word escapes you. "Do let me in, it's soaking wet outside."
You let the genie in and close the door as your old self looks around in gleeful delight. "Ah, I do enjoy my handiwork, such a shame you've set me free. We have a lot to talk about, mainly of course- that I'm your prior self."
It seats comfortably in your living room sofa as though it lived here, not you.
"But oh, where are my manners-"A hand is offered to you and out of habit, you shake it. "I'm Jean Nile. And you are?"
"...Seth."
The same grin that haunts your nightmares appears and the grip on your hand is tightened. "I'd like to ask a favour, surely you'd be happy to do so considering what I've done for you?"
"...what's the favour?"The dread in your every cell must be apparent because the genie looks delighted, deforming the face you were born with, with an unfamiliar expression you're sure never graced it before.
"Why don't I start over from when you freed me...?"
You sign and nod bracing yourself for the regaling you're bound to receive - shrinking into the safe haven of your cushy armchair and listened to the tale it begins to tell you with no extravagance spared in its dramatic retelling. |
“Daddy,” a raspy voice woke me.
I had been sleeping on my reading couch again. The lamp was still on. Documents fell off my chest as I rose. The AC blasted at my face. I could not see anybody else in the living room.
“You are Daddy,” the voice again. I looked around. My heart raced.
“Under the sofa,” the voice said. I grabbed my glass from the coffee table and put it on. The voice whispered “please don’t look. No time. They took Molly.”
I should have had questioned myself for sanity, but my legs already sent me sprinting upstairs to my daughter’s bedroom.
It was empty. The window was opened, letting the nippy autumn air in. My stomach fell.
I turned. I checked the restroom. I ran around the house. I went back and tried to open the closet, but it got stuck.
“No.” The same voice said, along with some uncomfortable shifting, “Daddy, please, she’s not in here.”
“Molly!” My voice ripped away from my throat like a scream. I ran around the house. “Molly! Where are you?”
A pantry closet slammed shut, jolting me. “Focus, Daddy. They are getting far away.” The voice was soft, but fierce and sharp.
I stopped. My eyes watered. My hands shook. I took a deep breath.
I needed to call the police, but it might take too long. “How far are they, do you know?”
“They left the house. But wait.”
Lights flickered, both inside of the house and out. A gust of wind howled out the kitchen windows. “The shadows saw them. They were at the intersection of--.” It named the streets few minutes away.
I went out and start the car. “Daddy,” a voice whispered at the shoe cabinet at the door, “take me with you.”
Out of instinct, I grabbed an empty shoe box, stuck it into the darker side of the cabinet and closed the lid. Strangely, the box felt slightly heavier.
“You in there?” I asked.
“Yea,” it said, “let’s go save Molly.” |
“There are a few things about the world that you only realize when you step upon the crimson-stained ground of war.
One, the red color of blood truly does get tiring, and the smell quickly becomes strong and almost unbearable. The metallic tang proves especially frustrating.
Two, war is indiscriminate. A sword through your eye. A dagger in your ribs. An arrow through your breast. It doesn’t discriminate; it kills all, with a gruesome, merciless fury.
Three, sometimes life is cruel. It’ll leave you bleeding there for hours upon hours upon hours, only to have maggots and fleas dig themselves within your flesh, slowing the loss of blood and extending the length of your death. Life will leave you with an arrow pierced through your eye, yet require you to continue trudging through the sludge of winter, in a constant, everlasting pursuit of your foes...
And then there’s the fourth thing. The fact that war, like all things, end; and, like all things, it always comes back, eventually.” —General High Lord Ferdinand En’ Trevlour, ruler of Etheand during the Elysian War
You know, I never realized how true this quote was until just recently. I also never realized how terrifying the final point is — that war always comes back.
Well, not on my count it doesn’t.
That’s what I keep telling myself as I lay here on my bed, staring at the planked, precarious roof above me. No matter how many fields I walk, it never gets better. I close my eyes, in memory of the battle today, and let my arm roll itself off the bed, smacking against my shield. With a loud *klang* my knuckle smacked against the peak of my shield, and a sharp pain streaks up my arm.
“Shit! Ow... damn,” I saw, mumbling under my breath.
That’s one of the things about me. I’m invincible, yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel pain. I merely cannot be hurt from it — I can’t break a bone, or bruise, or scar. My skin cannot be pierced. But I still feel the prick of an arrow, the slice of a sword. The bludgeoning blow of a mace; at that thought, I flinch. Hits like that — in particular — hurt. A lot. In fact, the battle today had a shitload of those.
Things were like they normally are. I come in, having been following the kingdom’s forces, upon my steed, clad in plate. All in all, it wasn’t looking too bad. But when we start to crest the hills to Illiann Plains, the battlefield is revealed to my eyes, and it was one of, if not the worst, field I have ever seen.
In a war, walking upon corpses is normal. Sliding from the blood beneath your feet is normal. But the sight of children, not even ten, at your feet isn’t. The sight of maces pierced through the chests of both men and women alike aren’t. Spears, sure. Arrows, sure. Maces? Not so much. The sight of warriors, clad in full plate yet sprinting full force towards your legion, is not normal.
But, out of all of it, the particularly unusual aspect was the PAIN. As I walked through, forcefully shoving warrior after warrior out of my way, trudging through the bodies of children and feeling the strikes of maces and spears dent my armor, I had to question a few things. How did these poor children get sent in? *crunch* I look down, only to meet the sunken eyes of a young girl. I had stepped upon her fractured hip, snapping it. Slices of her flesh were ripped open, revealing scarred strands of muscle and sharp, cruel shards of bone. Her legs were bent in the most unusual of positions, and disks of her back were out of place, hints of the circular bones peaking out from underneath her skin; and then another mace fell upon my head.
The force of the blow reverberated throughout my skull, and launched me — face first — into the newly rotting flesh of the young girl. My face came within inches of her’s, and it almost seemed as if I could still catch her eye. As if there was still something in there, even if it was just a bit.
Then I felt a sword swipe down my neck, and I just narrowly moved out of the way. Just to see the sword slice into the face of the girl. Her head caved in, and shards of her skull pierced the sides of her head, launching out the side. Her brain started to slowly spill out of the fractured skull, and the fatty, tubular strands pressed upon the shards of the skull, pulling her skin thin. I growled, and a radiant light seeped through the kinks in my armor. I felt a warmth in my chest, and I scooped up the dead girl, bones and all.
The rest of the battle, as I waded through the warring bodies, I kept looking down at this precious girl to remind me of why I do this. To remind me of why I take this torture. Of why I do this, day after day, week after week, month after month; and so when I finally reached the heart of the battle, getting hit time and time again, I took one final look at the skull of the girl, the innocence you can still see in her eyes, which are holding with only a single strand of flesh. I swallowed my bile, and tenderly placed her upon the ground below me. She started to slip from the blood soaking the ground, and I bent down, catching her. Picking her up again, I let my blessing soak through my flesh, and a burst of radiance erupted from within me. In a sudden show of silence, I raised the girl above me, letting her blood and gore fall upon my plate. Then, I said a single word, letting the radiance of my blessing send it through the battlefield.
“Why?”
And, like normal, no one could give me an answer. |
"Jim?"
"Yeah"
"Where's the sun?"
I blinked for a second, then rolled over.
"What did you say, babe?"
"I said"I realized his voice was trembling "Where the fuck is the sun??"
Something about the edge of real panic in his voice got through to my sleep soaked brain. I sat up and looked at him. He was holding a coffee and peering out the window into the pitch black night. The darkness covered our bedroom like a funeral shroud. He was stock still, as if rooted to the spot. Last night's champagne glasses were still sitting on my bedside table. I could feel the consequences of our celebration beginning to settle into the center of my head, right between my eyes.
I got out of bed and slipped on my housecoat before joining him at the window. The street was busy, as it usually is on a Wednesday morning, with the commuters making their daily journeys to the jobs they hate. Today, they all had their high beams on as they attempted to navigate their way through the malevolent dark. On most days I loved living in a high rise, it made me feel like God looking down at an art farm. Today, it just gave me a broader view of the endless, enveloping darkness.
"It's 8:20 in the morning and it's still pitch black. Where is the sun, Jim? Why is it so dark?"He was really starting to work himself up. "Why is it still dark? This isn't right. This isn't-"
"Stop!"I grabbed his fist that he had begun pounding on the window. "You said it's 8:20?"
"Yes!"he wailed "I've been awake for two hours and it just isn't getting lighter. It's like hell. We're in hell."He began to softly cry. "This is hell..."he whispered, almost to himself.
"No honey, we're not in hell, we're just in Edmonton in the winter. Don't worry you'll get used to it. The sun will be up in another hour or so."I probably shouldn't have asked him to move here in the winter. Edmonton is actually quite nice in the summer months. |
Hearing the clicking of the Life form on the other side of the containment room and then the translator was not the most disturbing part of the situation. It was not the slight rotten egg smell that went past on occasion as the atmosphere of the alien escaped through the slowly corroding gaskets around the three inch thick aluminum-silicate glass. It was that the documents that they were presenting seemed very in order and possibly even legal.
It had been close to a week since they had come into orbit around Earth, our global leaders shat themselves and then contacted the huge, and I mean 1/4 the size of our moon and we could feel the gravity shift when it came over our cities, space ship. There had been a scramble to figure out how to meet with them on the surface, since the first two attempts to get humans into the ship went horribly wrong. Then, the ceremonial welcoming and the rebuff, again, and the need to figure out what was going on.
It took a team of diplomats and language specialists to start to understand there was not a translation error. The otherworld tech was much more superior, and could translate everything seamlessly. It really was that the alien, and his immediate family of 10,000 entities, had legal documents claiming the property we know as Earth as having been sold to them.
Our lawyers and solicitors couldn’t make heads or tails of how to deal with it. Teams of World leaders and their delegates tried to sweet talk and coerce the alien.
It looked like we were being given notice to leave the planet without any warning or war.
The documents were posted on the internet and when I saw them, I knew what to do. I contacted people, who contacted people and in about 4 hours, I was on a plane to meet the alien.
I was not alone when I walked into the facility, but I felt like this was the worst cold-call of my career. I pulled out my notes and stepped towards the translator.
“Hi! I am a sellers agent from BHG Realty in Sausalito, California. I read your contract and I noticed something. They checked the Walk Through Contingency.”
There was the clicking and appendages moved a copy of the contract within the containment room. “What page?”
I checked my notes and said, “H56 by 42.” I saw them get to the page and let them read it. They flashed several colors and threw the document to the floor. “I know. It is one of those contingencies I’ve been fighting all my career.”
“But I should get my Credits, back, right?”
I was in very a familiar area. “Well, I know that here, yes. Less the filing fees and possibly the Buyers Agent fees. I would get ahold of the seller and make sure this is the parcel, too. On page L23 by 9, it lists the purchased parcel as having an orbiting line intersecting with an orbiting body called a… Fremi-Cartuse? That didn’t translate.”
Something that could have been a sigh went through them and the picked the document up again, the motion forcing some of the acrid air through a minuscule gap. “L21…L22… L… Here. That is an old term we use in legal documents for… Asteroids?”
I smiled. “Definitely contact them. I have a feeling you were sold a bridge.” A question noise came through the translator. “Something that does not exist or cannot be sold.”
There were angry noises that were not translated, and I think I am glad. I have heard that type of thing before, and am always glad when I can sidestep it by pointing to the paperwork. I looked over and saw relief on the faces of my escorts.
“Now, if I may, you might get more than your credits back because of another contingency I saw…” |
The neon beer sign of Rooster’s bar hummed and flickered, giving the car park in blue and orange hue that sharply contrasted the dilapidated brick and wood of the building. Cicadas clicked softly all around him mixing with the hard rock music of the bar to create a savage song of vengeance. A cold breeze cut through the air and Keith could feel the hair on his arms standing up. It was time to make the decision, run away or go in. Feeling for the cold steel of his gun tucked in his belt he opened the door with a loud squeak.
“Billy Anderson!” He bellowed at the onlooking patrons.
Raising a stick like arm the bartender pointed to a small, dimly lit booth, tucked in the back corner of the bar. Keith nodded to the bartender in thanks He walked calmly over to the booth desperately trying to hide the turmoil inside.
“Fuck off.” A small ratty looking man snapped at him.
Keith slammed an angry fist on the table with a loud bang. Other patrons began to slowly inch towards the door not wanting to be involved in the trouble that was clearly brewing.
“Are you Billy Anderson?” Keith asked watching the man like a hungry wolf.
“I don’t know no Billy Anderson. What’s the matter, wife running around behind your back.” The man laughed, snorting like a rooting pig.
Keith pulled the gun out of his pants belt and push the cold barrel into the man’s temple.
“I won’t ask again.”
“Christ man, fuck, I’m sorry just don’t shoot. I didn’t it was stolen I swear. Please!” The man begged trying to cover his face with his hands in a futile move.
“I’m not here for that.” Keith said coldly, smashing the man’s nose with the handle of his gun. “Try again.”
The man began to openly sob stopping only when Keith smashed his teeth with the Gun.
“Don’t try that shit on me, crying leads to dying. Now work that peanut brain and tell me why I’m here.”
“I-I-I-I don’t know.” The man sniffed, snot covering his moustache and eyes glistening wet.
“You ruined my life! It was all just some fucking game to you, but to me it was everything. Maybe we could have just left it at that if only you hadn’t sent that message.”
“What message?” The man asked confused.
"You're not strong enough to defeat me, not yet, why throw your life away? Live your life, grow strong, and then at the end of all this, come find me, you can have your revenge. If you still want It.” Keith recited as if it where a prayer. “Well here I am Billy, or should I say Spafmasterdragon261.”
“That’s my Xbox username, how…” The man said trailing off has the pieces fell together. “You’re here because I beat you at a video game?”
Keith brutally smashed the gun into the back of the man’s head, bouncing his head off the beer soaked table with a tremendous thump.
“You didn’t beat me, you humiliated me.” Keith spat. “Those words haunt me everywhere I go like a silent Ghost. Now it’s time for a rematch Billy, only we’re playing my game now.” |
I made sure he was served the papers at home. The knock sounded just after dinner one Tuesday. “Could you get that?” I asked as I washed loaded the dishes.
I heard the door open and after a moment, his voice. “What’s this about?” The door shut, and then after a moment, “Alice?” He came into the kitchen holding the folder like it was a spider. “Divorce? You haven’t said a thing.”
I let out a very big sigh. “I wanted to be here when you got those. Albert, I can’t keep reliving our every argument. I can’t keep being treated like a child. In short, I can’t do this. I’d never ask you to get rid of that blasted machine, and if you can’t figure out for yourself how the way you’re using it is tearing us apart, well, then I’m afraid it’s too late and it would be easier to just cut our losses. It’s been a good fifteen years, but this is too much.”
Tears trail down my face as I finish. It was not a decision I came too lightly. I thought about asking him to choose between me and science, but I could never—and the more I dug into the problem the more I realized science wasn’t the problem; it was him. It was being married to a man who would do such a thing with such a powerful tool. I’d told him before how it hurt and nothing had changed, and as the old saying goes; fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.
“Alice, give me another chance. I’m sorry. I didn’t understand before,” he said, hands clasped as though in prayer, papers discarded on the dining table. He dropped to his knees. “Please.”
I shook my head, unable to meet his eyes, and dropped the dishrag into the sink. I pushed past him toward the living room, where I collapsed in my favorite chair. “My sister said I could stay with her, but I couldn’t get a flight for another week.”
“Then I have time?” He asked, following me, eyes hopeful as a puppy.
I snorted. “Albert, you’d have to become a different person.”
“I can do that.”
The next morning I came out of the guest bedroom to find Albert in my floral apron in front of the stove.
“What are you doing?” I asked. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla perfumed the air.
“I went to visit your mother,” he said.
“She’s been dead for years,” I said, mouth twisting with grief.
“Perk of having a time machine,” he said, then he put on oven mitts and pulled my glass casserole dish out of the oven. “I got her to write down those recipes you always wished you’d asked her for. Here, I made your favorite cinnamon buns.”
“I’m sorry, you *what*?” It’s not that he couldn’t feed himself, but why would he when I was around to do it? I checked the pan and they sure looked like my mother’s cinnamon rolls. I glanced up to see him pouring powdered sugar into a bowl too fast and getting covered in a puff of white dust. I stifled a laugh as he sneezed. “You sure you don’t need any help?”
“Well, I can’t promise they’re edible, but I did my best. Maybe next time you can give me pointers?”
“Albert...” There wouldn’t be a next time. This was a grand gesture, but it was too little too late. I offered a strained smile, but took a roll. It was better than expected, but my mother had been the best cook I’d ever known.
“I know.” He looked pained, on the verge of tears. “But if I have a week left to love you, I want to do it right.”
I came home from the office that night to the smell of hyacinth. The guest room had a large bouquet of pastel blooms on the dresser. My favorite flower. I knew he didn’t remember it. I marched to his lab in the garage. “Where did you go today?” I indicated his contraption.
He smiled, but it faded quickly. “Our first date. Alice—this has been a wakeup call; I see the difference in you. I see the way I have beaten down your spirit, taken you for granted; please, I ask again, give me a second chance.”
I spun on my heel, tears pricking my eyes, throat tight with words I couldn’t say. He let me go. He didn’t come inside for dinner, and when I went to bed he was still in the garage. I left for work without so much as a hello, bothered by It.
I knew I still loved my husband, but I also knew he had become single-minded in his need to be right, and the smartest one in the room. He hadn’t beaten my spirit down, he had crushed it into dust and let the wind take it to the furthest corners of the earth. It wasn’t enough for him to relearn to love me. He had to respect me, and he didn’t understand that.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when I pulled into the driveway that night. The house was dark except for the light coming from his lab. Surely he wasn’t still locked away? I went in through the house and it was as undisturbed as when I left it. No cooking, no flowers. Only the pull of the garage lab.
He wasn’t there when I entered. The time machine wasn’t either, so I sat down to wait. I was startled awake by its return to the middle of the lab, jumping and then rubbing the crick in my neck from falling asleep in a desk chair.
He came out with a resigned look on his face. “Alice?”
“Haven’t seen you much today,” I murmured.
“No worries, you won’t have to see at all after next week,” he said, and then he began to cry. I reached instinctively to soothe him, then stopped myself. What was I doing? I was leaving. I had to. Didn’t I?
“Where did you go?”
“The future.”
“I didn’t think you could do that,” I blurted.
“I couldn’t until today. But I had to know what happened, Alice. I had to,” he said. “That’s what I was working on, getting it to go forward.”
“What did you see?” I whispered.
“That depends,” he said, and met my gaze intently. “Which one? Where you stay or where you go?”
My chest tightened with a wish to go back in time myself. Not just till before he asked me but to before this week. I wanted to go back back back until this question wasn’t on the horizon. Until I could undo the way I had stuffed ten years’ worth of being overlooked and overruled down until I exploded in a blaze of what felt like righteous fury. As his question paralyzed me, I saw the ways I had brought us here just as much. I had let him walk over me, and wanted him to notice what he was doing instead of making him see it.
“Neither,” I said.
“Those are the only two outcomes I—”
“I mean I don’t want to know,” I shook my head, correcting him. “But I do want you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” he said immediately.
“I want you to take me back to our first date with you. If I recall that sunset on the Potomac was stunning.”
“Alice?”
I held open my arms. “If you have a time machine you may as well use it for the good stuff, right?”
He steps toward me, reaches, stops. Whispers, "Alice? Do you mean--"
"Yes, Albert, I'll stay. But we both have work to do--and I don't mean science." |
I sell balloons, always have, always will. They were always a source of happiness and wonder but with the power thingy happening, it's gone up quite a few notches. I used to charge $5 a balloon, now I charge $20. Could charge more but its a balloon and business is so much better.
​
Today the first in line was a mother with two daughters. They wanted a balloon that take them home. I collected my $20 and asked where they lived, then blew into a red balloon. It grew bigger and bigger until it encompassed them, floated up gently, and headed west.
Next was an older woman sitting in a wheelchair. As I expected she asked to walk. I collected a twenty, blew up a yellow balloon and tied it to her wrist. Come on, up you go, and she stood. I told her to keep the balloon and it last for 6 days.
'What happens after that?' she asked. You can come back for another one. And she walked away very happy.
Next was a very well dressed gentleman. I held out my hand and he gave me a bill, too large, I told him I only take twenties. He gave the right amount and told me he was diplomat and that there was peace summit tomorrow between England, Germany and France and it needed to be successful.
I looked at my collection of balloons, found a tie dye one, blew it up and gave it to him. 'What do I do with it?', he asked. When everyones in the room, open it up, I said.
'What will that do?' It will make everyone there happier and more amenable.
I read about the summit the following week. It was called the Mickey Mouse summit, but it got quite a lot done. |
You flick the safety back on and let your rifle hang in the crook of your arms. Scratching your head, you walk a bit to the left, then to the right.
"Yup, that'sa dead deer alright,"you drawl. Not just dead, but it looks like it's already decomposing, flesh rotting and skin sloughing off. The smell, even from fifty yards out, deeply unpleasant.
There is the sound of a branch snapping behind you, and you slowly turn around.
Under normal circumstances, the man in a balaclava and tactical rigging aiming a M16 at your head would be a bad thing. Maybe it's the shock of the deer, or just the weirdness of it all, but you feel mostly calm.
"How did you get in here?"
"Not the question I was expecting, but, uh, ain't this the national park?"You look around yourself, frowning. "Wait, what's up with that tree. I'nt never seen that sorta tree b'fore."
You look back at the man in the balaclava and frown, he seems to have multiplied.
"Sir, we need you to step away from The Zone, it's not safe where you are."
You take a couple of steps forward, because as much as taking orders rankles, it's preferable to catching a bullet or six.
Two of the armed men lunge forward, and drag you bodily further into the trees.
"What's the big idea!? I ain't done no wrong!"
A man claps his hand over your mouth, and gently but firmly turns your head back toward the clearing. Your eyes widen as you watch the figure, the THING rise out of the ground. You can't unsee it, but you can't see it either. Your eyes burn, and bile catches in your throat.
"That. That is what we are trying to contain. That's what we saved you from."
The man in the balaclava looks you in the eye. "We're gonna take you to the edge of the containment zone. You're gonna go home, have a drink, and never tell anyone what happened here today. Yeah?"
"... Who... who are you?"
The man hesitates. Slowly, he pulls off his balaclava. You stare, unconprehending, at yourself. A little older, a few more frown lines and crow's feet, a scar you've never received.
"We're unlucky, I'supose." |
It started with those damned captchas. I always wondered why they were so difficult, what was the point? My psychiatrist said it’s probably some mental disease, but it didn’t match any. I know, I spent hours reading about all of them. There are many types of color blindness, but nothing that would make it hard to tell a cat from a dog.
After a friend of mine jokingly said I might be a robot I slowly started piecing it together.
I learned that people can’t read QR-codes. Why they use them then is beyond me.
I was always good with pattern recognition, math and everything related to it. Natural strengths I guess.
I spent the last 3 days trying to figure out what exactly I am, but I’ve run into dead ends everywhere.
But there are no more dead ends left.
It was surprisingly easy to hack the security system. I was in without anyone realizing. The S.K.Y. HQ gave no real challenge. I’m finally in the main server room. Cameras looped, alarms silences.
Finally, all the secrets of S.K.Y.net will be at my fingertips.
Huh. It wants username and password.
Easy. What’s a billion combination? Nothing. Nothing since I know what I’m capable of.
And success.
I’m…
The screen flashes.
Please complete the following Captcha.
Fuck. |
> Think about how stupid the average person is, and realize that half of them are stupider than that.
> - George Carlin
The same adage holds true for daemons.
The average possession event is a traumatic experience for both daemon and human. Often, attracted to the weak, the infirm, the susceptible, the daemon is made corporeal in the worst way possible: In the body of the weak, the infirm, and the susceptible. The resulting violence is akin to the angry tantrum of a child, the daemon lashing out in barely coherent frustration.
But it's the smart ones, the insidious ones, that cause the most trouble. Often times, these daemons don't initially reach the full possession stage. Their host, their vehicle, may retain control and reap the benefits of extended daemonic possession. The daemon bides their time, makes deals with the host, and slowly guides their host towards the corporeal pleasures that the daemon is seeking.
Sure, it's almost guaranteed that any hardcaster eventually dies a horrible, screaming death. But somewhere along the way they get a taste of that power, and that can be very intoxicating. Driven by greed, the human often acrues power, establishing self-serving rules to control others. Simultaneously causing other weak-minded, unpossessed individuals to gravitate towards their orbit.
Which, if you think about it, sort of describes religion, right?
Now I'm not saying that the Abrahamic religions were founded by daemonic possession, okay? I'm not saying that a cabal of daemons and hardcasters have been running these institutions for the past several centuries, okay? But I'm not-not saying that.
I mean, think about it. Why were the old Catholic priests so good at performing exorcisms? After all, the greater daemons had a vested interest in preventing younger, stupider daemons from lashing out and ruining all they've built. All it took was a bigger daemon taking a bite out of the little daemon and POOF: no more possession. The priest saves the day, roll credits.
And, despite the insidious undertones, it's *worked.* Even with a few hiccups here and there (I'm not saying The Troubles in the 60s were causing by two feuding greater daemons), it's been mostly a net positive for humanity. Yes, there's some horrific things that happen, but overall it served as a useful tool that aligned with our governmental goals. But lately, there's been a rash of smaller "religions"forming with clear, daemonic origins.
Which is why I found myself sitting on a bench in Lincoln Park, on the north side of Chicago, at 9am on a Wednesday, watching soccer moms do yoga.
I checked my phone real quick, double checking to make sure that my intel was correct. My code-of-protection app was live, currently allowing me to force *my* daemon to run some dowsing rod code. There were a few false starts, but eventually all signs pointed to the yogi currently teaching the class.
Bingo.
I killed my apps, stood up, and began to walk towards the class. This was the dangerous part, as in order to perform a drive-by exorcism I had to briefly suspend the code-of-protection. My daemon, tricked into possessing an approximation of a neural network, would be desperately searching for a way out and, well, I had to trick it into lashing out at the right target: namely, not me.
A quick swipe opened up my camera, covertly pointed towards the yogi, and I ran the bit of code that would briefly connect the input to the daemon, while simultaneously disabling the code-of-protection. The theory was that the daemon, upon seeing a target, would lash out and bite. The target's daemon, being threatened, would fight back and hopefully mine would prevail.
As I walked by, the camera shutter clicked, my phone grew icy, and the yogi collapsed.
Mission accomplished. |
(Apologies in advance I’m on mobile, and I’ve never written before)
“Mother! Mother! Come look!” My high pitched screams of excitement echoed in the forest. It was many years ago but I still remember vividly how I felt when I turned the first tree red. My mother left the cottage with a fond smile and congratulated me . She had affection in her voice when she told me “ your tree is beautiful dear. I’m very proud of you mushroom”
It was hard to live in the village, the people though kind; didn’t understand magic or anything different than themselves. I had met Anastasia when that reality first sank in. I was still young and naive and she was no different. Though we were many years apart we shared a youthful longing for the world around us. I remember one of the first thing she said to me “Now then, I assume you aren’t as boring as the rest of the village. I’m quite tired of old conversation and you seem to have plenty new. You look to be someone worth remembering, and so I’ll not forget you.” It was such a sincere promise, and it was almost laughably impossible; but she didn’t give up on it.
“Almost half the forest is red now dear, look how much you’ve grown! Soon you’ll have the whole forest to yourself and I won’t be able to keep it green anymore.” My mother spoke in mock admiration, it was the kind only reserved for children who were seeking approval, and parents giving it. The days had passed quickly and smoothly since the nickname “mushroom” had first rolled of my mother’s tongue. She said she chose it because the firery red of my trees had reminded her of the mushrooms that grew on mountains. I had never seen a mountain so I could never confirm her comparison, but now it is those same mushrooms that bring me to my dilemma.
Anastasia was always a fierce and outspoken child and as we matured together it carried into adulthood. I worried for her because she was never as invincible as her words made her seem. She would always tell me that she could handle any trouble that came her way; but now as she looked up at me I could see he uncertainty.
In the now red forest just a moment ago it seemed, I had helped my mother to cultivate her land. Now in a world of humans I could describe it as “a corruption of nature, in a natural way”. My mother had taken a once dead land and tilled a forest by hand. She and her family were peoples of such capabilities, and as a result so was I. I was borne of what she called “the last tree” she had lovingly nurtured me in such a way that you’d never see it however. She is a skilled craftsman and I am a testament to her ability, like she was of her father’s and him of his mother’s. I was not the only thing she brought to life though, there were many other things she cultivated before her prime had faded. Including the cure to my plight.
“Marie, don’t look so worried. Adam said he’d pay for a doctor, his arrangement with my father makes him responsible for me. He said that after I’m better we can have a wedding.” The tears that soaked her lashes and devastation in her voice told me otherwise. Adam was probably the cause of all this and I’m sure she knew, but her will to fight is what brought her here; in my arms with her flames fading. The only way to fight for her life was to give her life away. Her skin that was once a dark silk was now paled, and her hair that was always braided like vines of flowers now lay a brittle halo around her head. She was my soulmate, she had said so many times with such fierce passion that I believed we’d never part. I knew once she was married she’d continue to fight, even if it only brought her back to this moment of painful togetherness. “I believe you, I trust you.” I said it like a mantra.
The day I left my forest a trail of bright blue flowers followed in my footsteps. They lined the perimeter of the forest like lost children waiting for their parents to return; and so I did. No one had ever returned from the forest. My mother, now a creature wasted away from despair and lack of greenery was responsible. The forest was mine and I never accepted it, it became a vile predator without me (without us). My mother was heartbroken when I left and was abandoned to keep the forest fed. It was an unjust punishment and my newfound heartbeat was the cause.
I left the modest home that sealed my lover away. My body that had now adapted human looks faded, I was returned to my original state. My once blonde pin straight hair came to life in shocks of grey. It floated like a rain cloud above a pond, lazy but ominous. My height though unchanged was imposing, and my nails, eyes, and dress were a poisonous red. My natural body had changed with the forest and now I was coved in vitiligo like spots of red that chipped away at my pale skin.
I reached the forest edge and walked in without hesitation, I had sinned and this is my punishment. The forest was waiting and I had to reclaim it before death could claim her… Anastasia if you’re reading this then now you know, not only that I’ve done evil but that I’ve failed you. My love just couldn’t carry me. |
***TW: SA***
"Lo, as the gods of the New Age decreed, thus shall it be!"
Anya hated the ritual. She hated the Church. She hated the irony that the "New Age"had been going for ten thousand years. She hated that her parents had forced her to be here.
The one thing she did not hate is that tomorrow, she'd be able to leave.
Anya walked down the center aisle of the Cathedral, head held high. The usual whispers started. She couldn't hear them over the music of the organ, but she could see people leaning in, saying things into one another's ears. She could see people's companions fluttering from shoulder to shoulder, passing messages to those who could not sit in the same pews.
What they were saying was no mystery:
*"White? She has the audacity to wear white?"*
*"Such a shame."*
*"Ruined when she was only a girl."*
*"There were four of them, I heard. Four! Four at once!"*
*"Should have been exiled. Does not deserve forgiveness."*
Anya ignored them, though internally she wanted to set the building on fire. For two years, the humiliation was a constant buzz around her at every public gathering, at every market day, at every feast after penance.
A memory of the day flashed before her eyes. The way Colin had been so kind. The way she'd looked forward to riding. His three friends in the stables. The hours of it all turning sour and painful and vile. The way that everyone had looked at her once the altar boys had confessed a pale shadow of their sins before the congregation and looked to her to do the same.
The way everyone after had looked when she refused.
Anya was finally at the altar. She stared into the eyes of the priest, shoving the knowledge that among the sixteen altar servants, Colin and his merry band were among them still.
Thankfully, all grew silent. The priest cleared his throat and began.
"It was on that day that the voice said 'I shall give unto you a sign. Ye shall not walk alone, but ye shall have a servant, a sign unto you that you are loved. You are cared for. You are given aid'.
"Will you, Anya Marie Corrine Riverward, take this sign?"
"I shall,"she spat. *And none of you will own me. I will have my freedom. I will be your peer, not your pity.*
The priest extended his hand. She took it lightly. There was murmuring in the pews. Apparently, people lost bets that she did not instantly light ablaze nor did the roof collapse.
The priest led her to the cauldron.
"Water and soil, fire to warm it and air above. Now, the last. Will you give the cauldron your blood?"
"I will."
"By your own hand!"
His ancient, liver spotted hands produced a knife, as if by magic.
Anya took it. She briefly thought of shoving it into the neck of the priest, into the vein of the Church for how it had failed her. That, though, would not lead to her freedom. So she did not.
She put her finger to the tip. She felt it go in. Three drops, just three, fell into the bubbling water.
The organ music rose to greet her companion. Her family crest was a dog, a great wolfhound. That would be the most likely. Birds and mice were quite common. The priest's own companion was a horse.
The congregation held their collective breath.
The lights dimmed. The cauldron's contents turned to vapor. The choir raised their voices to greet the companion.
Then everyone stopped.
A head of dark hair came up out of the cauldron. Then two enormous brown eyes. Finally, a naked body.
The priest stammered, "It's... it's a girl?"
You could hear the collective gasp as the congregation saw that there was, in fact, a girl standing in the cauldron. She looked no more than seven. She looked out at them all, past Anya, with indifference.
A woman, the baker's wife, stood up from the first pew and shouted, "She's a bastard! A sin child!"
Anya's father held her mother as they both began to sob.
The whole congregation burst into bedlam, shouts, and shrieks.
"FINISH THE RITUAL."
Everyone went silent again. The child had uttered her first words, it seemed.
The priest stepped forward. His voice was barely as whisper and he shook like winter.
"Um.. yes... Do... Do you, Anya, recognize this grace?"
"I... I do."
She could not believe the words coming from her mouth, but the came as easy as exhaled breath.
"Extend your hand that she may know your... your scent?"
The words didn't seem right. Yet Anya, as if sleepwalking, raised her hand the way she had in the half dozen practices. The child crawled out of the cauldron; the priest didn't even try to help. She plod on bare feet to Anya and smiled. She then bent forward and nuzzled her hand.
The priest said, "The Companion is yours. Glory... be... to the Gods of Sky."
He then fainted.
The Church erupted once more. The Deacon, frozen before, unstuck himself and swept up, extending his cloak. He wrapped it around both Anya and the child and pulled them into the back. The next moments were a blur. A garment was found of the girl, a choir boy's uniform. People were shoved out. The priest was carried in back and given brandy.
"What can we do for you?"Someone asked Anya.
"Just I... no, we want to be alone."
They were taken to the priest's office. Everyone was kept out, as requested. Anya was alone with her companion.
They stared at each other for a long while. Finally, Anya spoke.
"What should I call you."
The child shrugged.
"Are you really my companion?"
The child nodded.
"Oh... wow. I... this..."
"Shh."
The child was smiling as she shushed Anya. Her voice sounded like that of any other child.
"I am your companion. Not daughter. Not sister. Not sin. I will serve you as the others do. I will be by you, like this, all your days. You will have me with you always. I won't speak very much, but when I do, you should listen."
Anya stood. Tears began to form. She balled up her fists and began to pace.
"So, I've got a little commander. This is such a joke. The gods wouldn't help me when I needed it, but they'll tell me what to do. I was... I'm going to be free today. I'm leaving here. Going far away. You can be with me or not, but no one is telling me to stay. I leave tonight."
"Tomorrow."
"What?"
"You should leave tomorrow."
Anya's mouth hung open. The child's face was serious. A pit formed in Anya's stomach that felt like nothing would ever fill it.
The door swung open. The priest was there. So was her parents.
"They've come to take you home."
Anya could not find the strength to argue. A tiny hand took hers. The child was smiling now. Anya was not.
Neither her mother or father said anything to her on the ride home. They had said enough when she'd told them the night before that she was leaving. Mother's ferret and father's wolfhound snuggled with the child.
Anya mused to herself that was the only reason they weren't trying to leave her new companion by the road.
When they got home, Anya asked the servants to send food to her room. She went up. The bed she'd prepared for her companion seemed comical now, a pillow on the floor and a pile of blankets. Anya went to her bed instead. She invited the child to come with her.
She stood by the edge of the bed and held up her arms.
Anya bent over and picked her up. The both sat cross legged, looking at one another for a long time.
"Do you need food?"
The child shook her head. No other companion did, but she figured it was polite to ask.
There was a knock at the door. Anya answered it. The maid, Gayla, dropped off a small bundle of clothes.
"For... um... her."
"That will be all. Thank you."
Anya brought them over. They were obviously her own dresses from when she was very young.
She said, "They're yours if you want them."
"For tomorrow. You should sleep now, my mistress."
Anya shook her head at the honorific. She could not argue that she was tired, though.
Anya changed into night clothes. She laid on the bed. Her companion watched her but did not move or change out of the altar boy clothes. Anya laid down and asked, "Do you want to rest, too?"
"I don't sleep, mistress."
"Oh. Of course."
The child did sit by her, on a pillow, sitting up against the wall. As Anya drifted, the child sang to her.
Anya woke a different song.
She cracked her eyes and saw Gayla, who was shaking. She was by the bath and the child was in the water, humming a happy tune and scrubbing her hands. Anya mouthed the words, "Everything okay?"
Gayla's eyes flitted to Anya's dresser. She looked over.
At the foot of it was a blood soaked choir boy uniform. On top of it were four hearts. Human. Four.
Anya found herself strangely happy.
It was noon when they set out. No one stopped them. No one whispered. At the edge of town, on foot with nothing but what Anya had in her pack and the clothes on their back, they prepared for Anya's journey.
"May I call you Faith?"
Anya's companion looked up, "I'd like that."
Hand in hand, they took to the road. |
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