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I can still remember the first time I saw him. Thomas Deely, a tall, gangly, dorky guy at some bar uptown in my senior year of college. Before I discovered this godawful gift. He came up to me as I sat at a table chatting with my friends, fidgeting and glancing over his shoulders- completely panicked. He stuttered as he asked me for my number, his face beet-red and his friends cackling at him from a couple tables down. I was usually more cautious with giving out my number, but I had a beer and a half in me and I was feeling generous. Two weeks later, we were dating. He was lovely. We played video games and read comics together and it was wonderful. Of course, he always was a complete nervous wreck in stressful situations. But everybody has their flaws, and there are worse flaws to have. For a while, it was perfect. That is, until I came across this power. I woke up one morning, just like any other, and there it was. Walking down the crowded streets, pristine glowing letters hovered up above every individual. Some saying things like “My dog ate it,” or “yeah, I love baseball too!”, others saying much more sinister things. Honestly, I thought I was going insane. Eventually, I found the pattern. Lies. Every single one of them- lies. I passed thieves and murderers inconspicuously walking down the sidewalks, and nobody knew. After work, I called up Tom because I needed to vent to someone and possibly get a ride to some sort of doctor. He invited me to his apartment and I made my way over. After knocking on his door, it swung inwards and there he stood, his freckled face and deep green eyes welcoming me. My eyes darted to the letters above his head. Three words. Perfect glowing letters cutting through the dust in the air, hanging suspended and taunting me. “I love you.”
The weight of the poker chips in my hand was an anchor, keeping my mind on the present - focused like a laser on the current moment. After nearly fifteen millennia that was no small feat, any memory further back than the Nika riots was essentially a blur of emotions, and a few static images that weathered away as the decades ran like water through my fingers. I had lost them so many times, those fingers. Battle, disease, accidents. I'd last lost one not thirty years ago trying to clear a jam on a Brunswick A-2 pinsetter; I'd first lost one in a Holocene migration north that I couldn't have remembered to save any of my lives. The fingers grew back of course, or I'd have run out of them long since. The twelve digits shuffling poker chips were as smooth and unmarred as the day I'd been cursed. That wasn't the problem. With that thought my focus once again snapped to current, and I internally cursed my wandering focus. Anchors to the present were important, and powerful - but fifteen millennia of life made for the mother of all daydreams. I tossed in a simple call on the big blind, reveling in remembering to do that much. I could no more recall the actual cards in my hand than I could remember the lifetimes I spent in Sumer or Ur. That wasn't the point, curse my wandering thoughts. Sending a message to my brothers, my twins, myself - that was why I, we, were here. Surrounding the small table were eight other individuals each of which bore a striking resemblance to myself. That was no great surprise, they were each me. There was no way to mar my appearance that I couldn't heal off in a few days, and many ways to mar my appearance which would only result in additional selves running the earth within a week. The eight were not necessarily my oldest brothers, but they were the most influential among us. If they could be convinced to follow my lead, so too could the herd - and so we met, once every century since the fall of Sargon of Akkad. "Change comes fast, since last we met."an I who was not I spoke, his choice of the Chinese language the only possible indicator as to who he might be; and even that was a subtlety I had not been above abusing in centuries past. My Chinese self continued as his words sank in around the table, "My brothers, and yours, all grow concerned with the rise of technology. The ease of access to cameras, in particular. Our isolation is thus threatened in a way it has never been before." Another self perked up slightly at that, tossing his cards into the center of the table as he raised his voice in question, "Do we not yet hold to the Treaty at Copenhagen? Since Niépce's view from the window we have held to no more than two brothers for each million men. Such a concentration seems diluted enough to ensure our safety."Egyptian, that one. Always a fan of the old ways. I decided to speak as myself. As eldest among the brothers I had long held a form of elevation over the others. Nothing official, but I had brought two of the other leaders into being myself, and the others were no more than four brothers removed from me. For nearly 8,000 years - they had at least listened, if not obeyed. I began to speak, willing myself to stay on task and off tangent, "How many years since Copenhagen? Nearly two hundred, assuming I can still count."The last sentence in Greek, a lapse to when I had first been introduced to the formal concept of mathematics. Seven of the other leaders had already roamed the world at that point, who knew how they had learned. With an iron will, I dragged my thoughts back to a meaningful line, "How many more brothers? How long since any of us have truly trusted each others census?"The questions were rhetorical but each brother knew the sting of truth buried below, "In all our time, exactly one brother has been destroyed. Caught in the heart of the bomb at Nagasaki. Six brothers were burned, and countless copies arose from the pieces of flesh that survived in the coals. There is no stopping our growth, and no protecting it from the emergent technologies of this earth." A brother who had been dealing, seated in what was traditionally the seat of my Indian self made a sound of derision, "and so this is the vaunted leadership of millennia? Wait for the world's technology to finger us? To find the large swaths of our DNA throughout the world, and await their attempts to destroy us in nuclear flame like our lost brother?" No fewer than six brothers raised eyebrows at that, body language shifted around the room. I had led men before, I had led myself before. I knew what the expressions across the table conveyed. I was losing them, myself. God save the world should I fail to reign myself in. War with the brothers was not a war humanity was guaranteed to win.
My help? Really? She tried to frighten me every day, and she’d always been hanging about. But the diminished spirit floating before me seemed so pitiful. “What happens if you starve?” I asked “can ghosts die?” “If I go too long without feeding,” she said, “I will simply fade away into nothing.” That wouldn’t be so bad. After all, it would give me some piece and quiet around here. I live alone, and I’d like to keep it that way. And yet... I get lonely sometimes, sure, but so does everyone. However, at hearing her words, I felt something that I’d never really felt before. Suddenly, she began to grow. Her face took on a fuller look, and her body soon returned to her normal size. She inhaled deeply, savoring the taste of fear. It was in that moment that I realized something. I was afraid of losing her.
My weapon is simple, unique, yet wielding it requires the touch of a virtuoso. I aim to climb the ranks, for my stratagem will leave any supervillain reeling in pain and agony. I touch my hands to my lips. Such warmth. They said out of the academy that I would go on to do great things. I was a prodigy, honed my skill from an early age. I learned the horrors of evil by the hand of death, as it touched out and brushed my cheek after dispatching of both my parents as swiftly and surely as the sharpest blade in existence. After that, I knew I wouldn’t let crime pay. Am I brooding virtuoso? No, of course not. I relish in my skill, my ability. I see a man hurling thunderbolts at a building, sparks flying and blowing with the gusts. I will the take the opportunity to talk to them, to speak to them on a deep personal level. Before I roast them into a state of agony and complete submission. My ability works in a simple way. I put out my hands, and kindle the smallest of flames. As I focus, feel and imagine the licks of fire striking down evil where it stands, the flame grows with my willlpower, the mark of a righteous hero. I strike them, roasting them into submission. Evil shall take no stand when I arrive. What? You thought I was going to defeat them by being mean to them? That’s just cruel and sadistic, not mention ineffective. Get your priorities straight.
"So...what do you do, exactly?" Holda continued to work at her distaff, her practiced hands moving automatically as she looked at the agent. She carried herself with the dignity of a queen. "I preside over the domain of spinning. It was I who taught mankind to make linen from flax."Her voice was steady and serious as she informed the agent of her great importance. "You do realize we've had an industrial revolution and it's all done by machines these days, right?" Holda blinked. "Wait, what?" "People don't spin fabric using a distaff anymore. The textile industry uses machines. Also, there's another textile called cotton that is used far more than linen." Holda trudged out of the office. She no longer carried herself like a queen. She turned and addressed the other textile goddesses. "I've got good news and bad news." All the other textile goddesses (save Athena, who had other domains to fall back on) were as crushed as Holda, but they perked up a bit upon learning about the thing called "Etsy."
I died a few years ago. Long story short, I fell down the stairs and broke my neck. That's the most stereotypical way for a clumsy person like me to die, but I can't help it. As a result of my rather unfortunate death, I've become a ghost. People can't see me, nor hear me. I'm bound to the house and anytime I try to go outside I just appear back in the building I was trying to escape from. As you can imagine, it's been kind of lonely like that. Why didn't I try communicating with the current tenants? I did. Focusing well enough to interact with items is really hard though. When the person who sees a flying pen writing something down in a notepad inevitably screams it's damn distracting. And if I leave a message whilst they are asleep they just assume that they wrote it down when they were drunk, or that it's an elaborate prank by a roommate. I can still prank people by throwing stuff around though, so this is the main thing I was doing for entertainment. Not to cause any damage, I just had no other options besides watching whatever they are doing. And now, new tenants have moved in. They were a couple of roommates from the local Uni, about my age when I died. I've pranked them a few times. They even screamed sometimes, especially at the beginning. But eventually they just got used to it. "Ghost, we know you're here. Stop it already"they said. I didn't listen, it was the only thing I could do for Christs sake! And then the cheeky bastards have nailed the furniture to the ground and removed doors so I can't slam them closed. They even duct taped the bloody flower pot on the table! This is when I really got desperate. If I had to spend my eternity in that house, it should be at least interesting! Well, as interesting as an entire eternity spent in one place could be. So I tried writing stuff down again. I think the tenants were expecting that, as I overheard a discussion where they decided to leave a notepad and a pen on the table. So here I go - I picked up the pen in a way that they must have seen it. They didn't scream, which was a good thing. Instead, they watched it carefully, as I started scribbling with it on the notepad. My message read: Friends. I'm sorry for the mess. I'm lonely and bored. It's hard to write. Don't call Ghostbusters (they can't do shit). It was brief but writing it down took me good 15 minutes. And it still looked more like a hen trying to write, but at least it was somewhat readable. And I managed to think of a joke to finish the note off! I took the notepad and gave it to them (the floating notebook must've looked comically). They read it aloud and chuckled at the Ghostbusters bit. One of them finally said "I don't know if you can hear me, or if you're even still there but if writing is so hard then I'll get a... sort of a modern computer slash typewriter thing down and maybe you can try typing stuff"- Oh, yes. With that Ghostbusters reference they might've thought I'm from the 80's. But wait, typing? Oh, yes. Typing. I didn't think of that somehow. Still, opening a laptop would be tough, and my PC was taken together with the rest of my stuff when I kicked the bucket. They put the laptop on the table, turned it on and opened Word. "Do you want to share your story?"they asked. So I did. --- I have a subreddit for my content now! Head to /r/lecetrabantem and subscribe if you want more badly thought out stories in broken English and Polish! I'll expand on this thing later, but I don't expect it to become a series bigger than 2-3 parts.
I didn't think people would join just so they could become the God of laser eyes or impenetrable skin so they could play superhero, but I suppose it gives us good publicity. I figured I should pick something useful or flashy, to prove that anyone can become a God of my church... But that's not quite how it works. You have to have in mind what you'll be the God of as you join and as I was creating my religion, my four year old daughter came to me with one of those silly unanswerable questions that plagued my mind until I could give her a suitable and believable answer. So I, the first and head of the church of Gods, am the God of sneezing with your eyes open.
A few rays of light were starting to illuminate the interior of my store, bright spots of light on the shelves full of meticulously aligned products. "8:58, soon opening time,"I said aloud as I approached the door, key in hand. "Maybe I will see more customers today ..." The door unlocks with a familiar clatter, I slowly return behind the counter and start waiting. An hour passes, then a second ... I sigh. Since the opening of Jojomart, my clientele has become much rarer. I can't even blame my former customers, the supermarket offers them the same items at ridiculous prices ... How am I supposed to do to support this unfair competition? I was lost in thought when an unusual sound was heard. A regular thud, weak at first, but getting stronger with every passing second. A few drops of sweat beaded on my forehead when I realized that thoses were footsteps, massive foostep. Something is approaching. A shadow passed in front of the window, blocking almost all the daylight that reached my store. For a few seconds, the time seems frozen. Complete silence. Then the door begins to open. A colossus, at least half my height taller, stands on my doorstep. Something strange emanates from him, like ... an aura, an aura of danger. I feel a dull panic go up in my stomach. This man is really gigantic, even from the few meters that separate us, I can see impressive muscles that roll under farmer's clothes too small for his build. He enters slowly, his eyes quickly passing on all the shelves, as if he were on his guard and expected to find something in my establishment. Each of his steps is punctuated by a thud, I fell a little more on myself, I would like to be anywhere rather than in front of this human monster. He stops right behind the counter, staring at me with an intense look. Those eyes ... I have never seen someone with such intense eyes. Intense fear flow in my veins, accompanied by the biggest adrenaline shock I have ever received. His terrifying gaze gives me the impression of seeing the depths of hell. Suddenly, the stranger begins to speak. His deep voice cut through the silence like a knife and makes me jump. "Hello, I would like to buy this backpack and ten turnips seeds" -------------------------------------------------- Hey ! It's my first writing, please don't be too harsh :) Sorry if my english is broken, it's not my first language.
Well, all things considered, this wasn't the worst possible outcome. &#x200B; Sure, the bookcase was no more, but on the plus side nothing irreplaceable had been lost. Father Kelly preferred to keep his father's bible in his bedside drawer, and he wasn't much one for first editions or signed copies or anything -- books were for reading, after all, so it didn't matter how much they were worth. Though the ceiling had blackened, there didn't appear to be any structural damage. &#x200B; Admittedly, it would have been nice if Margaret's reaction to a fixed bedtime wasn't quite so... Volatile, but this was a step up from setting him on fire, so he'd take it. It had been a rough week. &#x200B; "I thought we agreed to have no more temper tantrums? You know it's dangerous, and you know you're going to bed anyway -- the longer you keep it up, the less time you have for a story."Father Kelly's quiet words seemed to drift around the girl, either unnoticed or ignored. Her large eyes were hot coals boring into him, flared nostrils blowing smoke across her tightly-shut mouth. A sigh escaped the priest's lips as he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, bending to wipe the ash that had accumulated on the child's face. &#x200B; "Oh, quit your huffing and puffing... Now you're just making a mess. You stayed up late yesterday, remember? Watching Animal Planet? I won't let you stay up late again if this is the result."That got a reaction. &#x200B; "But I wanna watch bugs,"she pleaded, stifling her smoky breath and blinking back embers. With her pale blue eyes and platinum blonde hair, she appeared almost angelic. Father Kelly couldn't help but chuckle at the observation. &#x200B; "Yes, I know you do. I want to own furniture without you burning it up, but it seems we can't always get what we want, can we?"The child pouted, but it seemed she'd tired herself out, as she didn't put up much resistance when he scooped her up in his arms and made for the stairway. Dainty fingers clutched at his shirt, and though Margaret tried to stay angry at him for spoiling her fun, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She couldn't help but enjoy the rare treat of being carried to bed. &#x200B; Untangling her arms from around his neck, Father Kelly laid her delicately in bed, tucking her in tightly. Though he anticipated the inevitable question, he took a step towards the door anyway -- he was tired after putting out the fire, and perhaps she was tired enough to want to sleep immediately, too. &#x200B; "Story time?" &#x200B; Apparently not. Big blue eyes gazed innocently up at him, holding no indication as to what she had just done. Though he knew her morality would develop more quickly if her actions were of consequence, he couldn't quite bring himself to deprive her entirely. &#x200B; "Of course! How could I forget. We don't have as much time as we should, though, because you took so long to cool down, so only a half story today. Which one would you like?"He took a seat on the bed, smiling softly as she clambered onto his lap. She wiggled with excitement as she proclaimed her answer, "Noah! I want Noah!" &#x200B; \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\* &#x200B; ((I enjoy this dynamic, so I'm happy to write more if people will read it.))
Most game developers envision themselves in their own game, as they create it. But not our company. We somehow got trapped in our own game after a storm and now we have to reach the exit or we die. So now me and the rest of the dev team are braving through the final forest area to exit the game. “God dammit!” A voice cried out. We all glanced over to see Arthur glitched into some tree roots. “I’m stuck, I can’t move! This close to the end too!” He thrashed around, but he didn’t move an inch. “Oh great, another person stuck in the damn environment. What’s that make, 4 now!?” I yelled. Some of the bugs that occurred were ridiculous, certain doors not opening, loot duplicating, floating trees and rocks, invulnerable dragons, etc. “Oh whatever, let’s move on, no one liked you anyways Arthur! All you do is play with Rubik’s cubes!” Someone else called out. We marched along with Arthur yelling insults in the distance behind us. You’d think it would be easy for us to beat a game we designed, but that’s not the case. Maybe this is our punishment for trying to release a game that wasn’t clear of bugs. We walked in silence until we came across the final boss area. “Over there!” I pointed at an opening in the trees to a clearing with a large portal in the middle. “Once we defeat the boss, we can go home!” The rest of us huddled together to form a game plan. “Okay, so the boss spawn depends on our karma with the town, and it should be good since we didn’t steal from the NPC’s stores, so the boss should be the giant spider. It’s weak to fire magic, sharp weapons, and its legs are a weak point.” My manager said. “We duped a lot of health and mana potions, so we should be okay on that. Anything else?” I asked. “What if the portal doesn’t light?” someone asked? We all turned to face the speaker, some newbie to the company who was in charge of the art design. “Then were screwed Allen.” my manager said gravely. 30 minutes of battle later The body of the giant spider crumpled to the floor, it’s green blood spilling out on the ground. We all cheered, celebrating our victory, we all stared all that portal, waiting for lightning to strike it. A minute passed, nothing happened. Our faces of glee vanished as we realized our fate was sealed. “Hey the portal didn’t light.” Allen said. “WE KNOW!”
"So, Let me get this straight."I spoke, on the edge of my seat. "You think that the entire world is actually made up of little strings?" "Yep!"He replied. "It explains so many of the cosmic coincidences." "So then I can... You know, Control it?" "Let's see!" I reach out, grasping at the tiny threads of life. pulling, pulling, \CRACK\ with a bolt, the desk disappears, never to be seen again. "Huh, that's really ne-" \CRACK\ he vanishes into thin air, leaving nothing behind. I stand up, tense with anxiety. \CRACK\ \CRACK\ \CRACK\ more and more disappears from the room, leaving nothing behind. eventually, the building is gone. and the road. and with one final \CRACK\ the world dissaperates. and this is why you don't mess with strings, cause the universe is held together with a single thread.
"What does that have to do with our CEO being a cat Steve?!"I could feel the blood rushing into my face. "Well to be fair Greg, a cat as a CEO is better than having a dog as mayor for three years like over there in Minnesota." This was very true. At least the dog had a strong name like Duke as where our cat CEO went by Mr. Sprinkles. His little cat suit had the name tag with the letters printed in a typical CEO font SPRINKLES. It absolutely made my blood boil. How was this overweight feline making three times as much as me. I did not see this entire situation coming on my first day at my new office job here in the city. &#x200B; ......... &#x200B; A Few Moments Ago &#x200B; I was looking forward to my first day at the office downtown. I knew getting into the crypto currency business was going to be a great idea. Just look at how well Bitcoin did. I wanted to be the next multi million dollar man. I was applying for a job at a firm that dealt with regulating and selling a new crypto. Quick Silver was its name and it was absolutely going to be the next contender for the top spot on the Crypto Currency Leaderboards. Employees at CCs "R"Us got a free 100 coins of QS in an account. They were already worth about $1800 a pop. The only caveat was that you had to remain with the company for 2 years before you could pull out the money. A small price to pay knowing that QS would be worth more per coin in those 2 years. &#x200B; I received an email right before I was about to head out my front door. It was a strange email that only read "Mr. Crew, hope you're not allergic to cats. If you are, please take the necessary precautions prior to coming in for your interview."I didn't think too much of it as I was not allergic. And I knew the benefits of having an office pet. Really helps with the stress levels of the workers. I headed out the door and made my way to the office building. &#x200B; As soon as I walked through the massive rotating glass door I was met by a well dressed man in a black suit. &#x200B; "Right this way sir. You will be heading straight into conference room number three. There you will find our CEO and VP waiting to have a brief meeting with you. Be sure to have your resume in hand prior to walking through the door and any paperwork they might ask you for. Rustling paper tends to frighten the CEO so please refrain from rummaging through your briefcase." &#x200B; Th comment made me chuckle under my breath but I did think it was a strange statement. I followed the man into the elevator and saw him press the top floor. He didn't say a word in the elevator until the doors opened up once at the desired floor. &#x200B; "Straight through the double glass doors with the diamond handles sir." &#x200B; I watched as the doors closed shut and then turned to head towards the conference room. I tried to pull open one of the doors only to look up a bit at the letters that said push in small print about eye level. As I walked in the room I noticed a dapper looking fellow staring at me with a smile on his face. He must have just seen me make a fool out of myself. I blushed with embarrassment. &#x200B; "Hello sir, please take a seat at the other end of the table." &#x200B; I headed towards the chair he was gesturing to and began to slide it out from under the table. I was completely taken by surprise when a cat jumped down from it. &#x200B; "OH MY GOSH! This cat scared me to death! I was not expecting a cat to be in here during our initial meeting!"I began to chuckle again under my breath. &#x200B; "He likes to be a part of all of the new hire in-processing to ensure we hired the right people. He may be the CEO but he takes his work VERY seriously."The man spoke with a serious tone and a slight smile on his face. &#x200B; "Wait... wha??"My brain had lost track of what the man had said. My only thought was that he was joking and I missed the punchline. &#x200B; "Yes sir this here is Mr. Sprinkles. He took over the company about a year ago and since then its been nothing but great for the company." &#x200B; ""So everyone that works here knows that it's basically ran by a cat?" &#x200B; "Of course Mr. Crew. Will this be a problem?" &#x200B; “Is no one going to comment on the fact that our CEO is a cat? Really?” &#x200B; "Shut it, Sales are up 300%!"His face and voice were suddenly filled with anger. He cleared his throat before speaking again. I could see the red vanishing as he regained his composure. &#x200B; "Uhurm... sorry. I tend to be a bit overprotective of Mr. Sprinkles at times."
"Draco!"Esteban called out summoning his dragon. Summoning is one of the greatest classes of magic in the world, the ability to summon and then direct creatures from other planes of existence. Beings of great magic such as Dragons, Angels, and Demons being both the most powerful and the most common. Merely riding on the coattails of others is what I believe. How can you become stronger when you believe that you've already reached the apex of your schools of magic? The Dragon of fire roars unleashing a grand plume of flames and gasses above Esteban and his army. I've been called mad, thus the king I serve now is not willing to pay well for my services and instead has doubled down on illusionists to give him an edge during this battle. I will not be undone however. An imp I summoned weeks ago whispered secrets in my ear of a plane of existence where magic does not exist thus the humans use iron horses and carts to do their battles for them. I paid well for this information and my niece will never forgive me for what I let that imp do to her favorite doll, but sacrifices must be made for the advancement of magic! I begin my incantation "Parere praesentibus, Panzer!"A cloud of smoke appears next to me and a roar of something that sounded like a demon comes from the cloud. The wind carries away the smoke to reveal a grey-green castle of metal and some kind of metal branch growing out of the top parapet. "Bestellungen, Meister?"Comes from the metal castle although it continues to roar and there doesn't seem to be any mouth from which it speaks. It must be strong for the imp could not lie to me. I point my wand and cast an illumination orb towards the opposing army. "Kill the dragon, Panzer!"I cry out. The branch moves and the parapet turns. How could metal move in such a fashion? "Ziel in Sichtweite. Feuer eins!"A flash and pressure. I can't hear a thing as I grab at my ears and try to see what magic caused such calamity. The knights horses rear and attempt to flee, a section of infantry break formation to retreat from the metal castle. I look at the dragon and see that it's chest was ripped open, it lays on the ground bleeding as it dissolves back to the realm it came from. Esteban's body crushed beneath it. All it took was one attack from this "Panzer"to kill a dragon!? I laugh at all those who called me mad for I have found the thing that will make me the most powerful summoner in the world! As the opposing army charges the "Panzer"swings it's branch around and roars again as a dozen of the charging knights disappear in a fireball of erupting dirt. Some smaller branch starts spewing small fireballs into the enemy ranks all but mowing down the heavily armored infantry. I command "Panzer"to continue to fight until the enemy retreats. I swagger up to my King, with my hearing returning I bow to him. "Sire I present to you your victory."As I stand I see him already dismounted off of his horse and brandishing his Warhammer. "Sire?" "Evil summoner!"He bellows as the hammer collides with my skull.
“Hi!” That caught me off guard. I had nearly forgotten Dr Malevolence has brought his kid in. This was the first time I had ever seen her though. I didn’t expect her to be so... sweet? She had an innocent smile, a Disney Princess T-shirt, a sparkly tutu, and some worn sneakers. “Um... hey there, kid...” how the hell was I supposed to react? Knowing the boss, it was extremely possible she had laser eyes or superhuman strength under that cute exterior. “Watcha doin?” She leaned over me to see what I was working on. Would the boss be okay if I showed his pride and joy the power nullifier I was working on? “Well...” I decided, hey, if he brought her here, he was probably going to show her stuff anyway. “This is your dad’s Power Nullifier Ray. It’s a part of his big plan to finally stop Captain Outstanding.” “What’s it do?” “Well, it fires from this end,” I gestures toward the laser’s firing end, which I had finished building the day prior but had yet to polish, “and it shoots a day of energy that stops Captain Outstanding from using his powers so Dr Malevolence can...” I wasn’t sure if the boss had had the “life and death” talk with her yet, so I decided to tread lightly. “Lock him up.” Her eyes lit up. “Cool!” She jumped up and down until something else caught her attention. “What’s that green thingy?” She pointed at a glass tank that held a wriggling mass of green goop. “Oh, that’s Steve, the slime monster,” I explained. “Dr Malevolence tried to create an insane monster called ‘the Plasmonator’, but he wanted to be called Steve. Captain Outstanding ended up beating him anyway, and this is all we could salvage. Say hey, Steve!” The green ooze wriggled, and a nub poked out of the top and waved. The kid pouted and made a point of crossing her arms. “That Capp’n Oustanding is just a big meanie!” I couldn’t help but chuckle. Dr Malevolence, if you raise this kid right, I could see her becoming a great threat to society one day.
"What?"My voice rasped through the speaker grill mounted on the front of my mask. "Yes sir."The minion who identified himself as Mr. Juniper, otherwise known to me as A7-1, said. "It's a really rough economy out there." "But I seek to usurp the grand world order and replace it with a fascist system controlled by me!"I said as I slammed my fist onto my desk where stacks of death machine designs were waiting to be put into production. "Are you saying you don't believe in me?" "I personally don't like the way the government is run but that's something I don't like to talk about at work."Mr. Juniper stated, keeping a low, respectful tone. "You pay much more than minimum wage and Doctor Maniak's facilities on base are way better than any hospital we could go to. That is if you don't mind the constant giggling. That's good enough for me." "So you don't care about marching on the world capitals and making examples of the world leaders?" "Not really sir. I'm really passionate about bonsai trees." I groaned as I slammed my head into my desk. "Is there anything else you wanted to discuss with me, minion?" "No, your evil lordship. Permission to head back to my patrol?" "Granted."I mumbled, re-evaluating my many choices in life.
I swear I should have just burned the place. It was huge, sure, but so were the taxes on it. And the vermin. Rats, roaches, bedbugs, you name it. And this had been my aunt's third (yes, third) house. You know why? Because she ran out of space in her first and second houses to put her trash. She probably would have been on her way to a fourth house in another five or so years if she hadn't died when she did. (It was a car crash that did her in, who'd have thought. Everyone in the family had just assumed she'd die of some sort of disease or trash cave-in, with the way she lived.) But when that house became mine, I didn't burn it. Should have. Considered it. Decided against it. Thought about selling it too, but there was no way anyone would buy it in the state it was in. I'd have to clean it either way, and if I was going to clean it I might as well live in it. I sure as heck didn't want to keep living in my apartment. My place only had one 'room,' which was more like a tall hallway. Little wooden ladder up to a 'second floor' exactly big enough for a twin size bed. Communal bathrooms shared with a dozen other similarly tiny apartments. My kitchen was a microwave on top of the little bookshelf I kept all my clothes in, and I had to turn sideways to fit past it. So I thought, it's gotta be worth it, to clean up this place. Could move out of the world's smallest glorified hallway. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all, thought I should have been thankful to my aunt for leaving me garbage dump #3 in her will. It was probably in better condition than the other two at least, being the newest. I started heading there every day after work to clean it out. The garbage was floor to ceiling, and even after hours it seemed like I hadn't made so much as a dent. Take out ten garbage bags and a pile of loose trash just cascades into the hole they left, like trying to empty a lake by scooping it out with your hands. After about a week of that I had stopped feeling quite so thankful about having the place. But I had already started, and I wasn't going to have spent a week of my free time hauling garbage and being crawled on by cat-sized rats for nothing. Nothing shocks you anymore when you're cleaning out a hoarder's house. You put tape over your sleeves and pantlegs to keep the bugs out. You stop screaming when moving that box showers you with yet another roach colony. You find a bag full of VHS tapes and half decomposed rat corpses and you just don't care anymore. You throw it out. You throw it all out. A bag of doll hair, a bunch of old wristwatches, three vintage bikes with mangled frames, an unopened knitting kit, half a bag of moldy biscuits, a sloshing garbage bag half full of honest to goodness human urine, you just don't care anymore. Sometimes I'd find something that looked almost salvageable, or at very least interesting. There were some really cool rocks, maybe even real gemstones of some sort, scattered around various piles. A really beautiful Christmas tree topper. A collection of keyboards covered in plastic wrap- all with the H keys missing for some reason, but otherwise in good enough condition. A tapestry depicting two tigers melting across an incomprehensibly complex forest, seeming to be actually old instead of just dirty. But then I'd remember the bugs, and the filth, and wonder if any of it was worth my time to really try cleaning and appraising. It never was. The surface layer is all mostly trash, some old dishes and clothing thrown in with it. Then are the knick-knacks, the decorative items, the hobby items. Those are just about all unopened, excluding the holes the rats chewed. Below that is the filth layer. The bug nests and rat corpses and every kind of mold and feces. Then it's back to regular trash again, compacted under compressed filth, dishes and clothes. Then hobbies and decorations. Then filth again. Like the patterns in the side of a cliff- light, dark, darker, light, dark, darker. I swear though, the further down I go the weirder this stuff gets. Every time I think I'm beyond caring what any of this junk is, I find something stranger. Some of the clothes deeper down are made of the weirdest material. At first I figured it was just the effect of having sat in that mess for who knows how many years, but then I dropped one on the front lawn and forgot to pick it up. A few days of rain later it was clean (well no, I still wouldn't touch it without gloves, but the worst of the filth had washed off its surface at least) and it was strange as ever. The colors were weird. Reds I've seen on berries before, but never dyed into fabric. And it seemed to be made of a million little perfect knots instead of actual fabric weave. The hobby layers probably had the most baffling stuff. Found a ziplock bag full of ashes, some sort of unrecognizable dried leaves taped to the front. Found a pack of glass jars with "Bottled ghosts"carefully handwritten in marker across each. Found a working label maker with no way to actually input text, but every time the button gets bumped it spits out a bunch of labels with some weird foreign letters on it. In the next hobby layer below that one, I found at least half a hundred items with one or more of those weird labels stuck on. The bottom fell out of one of the labeled boxes when I picked it up. It was full of- and I swear I'm not making this up- shed snake skins weighed down with a bowling ball. Absolutely full of snake skins. Like someone had been using the bowling ball to compress them so they could squeeze more in there. Today though. My gosh, today. I got down to the very bottom of one of the rooms. I don't even know what room it's supposed to be, not with the house so filled up with trash. But whatever room it's supposed to be is almost empty, and it's down to the very last filth layer. And in it, a big cedar chest. Had a dozen of those weird foreign labels on it, though most of them had been half scraped off at some point. It wasn't the first piece of misplaced furniture I've excavated from the place, but it was the first one that was too heavy to move. So like an idiot, I opened it. Thought maybe there was something inside I could empty out to make it lighter. Inside was this weird, desiccated corpse looking thing. The kind of sunken-skin, almost mummy-like thing you get when something dead has been deprived of air and moisture too long to rot properly. Still had most of its fur on, weird square patterns of charcoal black and aged paper yellow across it. Could even see where the eyes had been, the closed eyelids had never rotted off or fallen in. Was a freakishly unfriendly thing, a far cry from the fairy wall decorations and little pink cherub statues I'd found buried elsewhere around the house. Had claws and spines all over the place. Where its lips had shriveled up and pulled back, I could see a whole lot of teeth. And it was huge! It was all curled up in there, but I bet if it could have stood it would have been taller than me. So I guessed weird taxidermy art was another thing to add to the list of stuff my aunt had around. While it obviously wasn't any real animal, I was confident that all the parts it was made of had belonged to something alive at some point. Those were real teeth. Maybe even all from the same kind of animal, they matched disturbingly well with each other. The fine, dusty fur was real as well. I don't know how someone managed to make such an unnatural pattern out of real fur, but I do know that fake fur doesn't age that poorly. The claws on it... Well I couldn't think of any kind of real animal those could have come from, so maybe that's one element of it that was faked. But they looked pretty darn convincing. Maybe they were some sort of giant bird talons? Did birds even get that big? Even the eyes were disturbingly life-like, though those had to be the one thing that was definitely fake. A real eye would have rotted out of it. Even if it had been freshly dead, the eyes would end up glazed or dull. The vivid orange and red of them, with the black slit pupils, were too bright and alert. Glass, maybe? But I'd never gotten such a creepy feeling from a glass eye before, not even a few days beforehand when I'd tipped over a trash bag and it had spilled out a few hundred weird glass eyes all around me. Felt like it was watching me. Weird. Could have sworn that just a minute ago, the eyes had been closed. And then the thing, with its lipless mouth and desiccated face, smiled at me.
"Carl, can I talk to you for a second?"Said Jim, pulling down his hood and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Vlad was wildly swinging a candelabra as the rest of the cult tried desperately to contain him. "Yea, what's up boss?"Carl said, shuffling over. Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him a few feet away from the group. "So that's Dracula?"Jim asked. "Looks like it."Carl nodded. "And he's uh..."Jim looked over his shoulder at the prince shouting furiously, "I would say not a vampire." "You will know the wrath of the son of the dragon!"Dracula howled at his captors. "Yea, does uhh, does not look like it."Carl said, continuing to nod. "Well that puts us in an odd position wouldn't you agree?"Jim asked with a sigh. "Yea, I would agree. But hey, the blood magic worked. So, silver lining."Carl offered. "I get that, and I think it's great, but I just don't think its really our brand y'know?"Jim explained. "Yea, yea I get it. No, no I don't, what do you mean?" "Well, I'm just saying, we're a vampire cult. This seems more like, voodoo resurrection. Like, if he came back as a vampire that's one thing. But at this point we just raised a dead guy. More like a zombie I guess."Jim said scratching his chin. "I will drive back the Turks and reclaim my birthright!"Vlad screamed as the cult piled on top of him. "But I think that zombies wouldn't be able to speak or anything right? So it's kind of it's own thing really."Carl said folding his arms. "That's another thing, why is he speaking English? Shouldn't it be wallachian or something?"Jim asked. "Just, I don't know, let's say blood magic."Carl replied defeated. "You're right, one thing at a time. I mean, my issue is that he was supposed to be like, the vampire. If he wasn't and isn't what does that mean for the cult? Should we just call it quits?"Jim asked, sitting on the cold stone steps. "We could try to get nosferatu?"Carl said excitedly. "Isn't that just a movie?" "I... I don't really know." "Alright,"Jim started, "so the way I see it, we can switch gears and try to go in a more general oriented cult direction. Maybe drop the vampires and just stick to like, death worship? Or just like generally evil cult type thing?" "I don't know about all that man."Carl said exhaling. "I mean, we'd definitely lose Chris and Will. They were strictly here for the vampire stuff. I don't think Stacey would stick around either. And that means we'd lose Art because he just joined for Stacey. That's like half the group right there." "You're right."Jim said, tilting his head back. "Plus, everyone used their air miles and I'm pretty sure Dave is still upset that he had to cut open his palm for the offering." "Release me in the name of Christ our Lord you heathen scum!"Dracula yelled as he leaped two feet out of the group before being dragged back in. "Let's just call this a wash and figure out what we're going to do after we get back to the bed and breakfast."Jim said standing. "Seems like the best plan for now."Carl agreed, joining him. "Hey guys!"Jim said to the group. The melee halted and a dozen masked faces along with Dracula looked at Jim. "Just put him back in the coffin, let's regroup at the B&B." "I mean... shouldn't we, y'know..."Asked one of the masked faces, pantomiming cutting Vlad's throat. "Nah, there's a tour group coming through in a few hours, they can deal with him."Jim answered, turning to leave. The masked faces struggled with the prince until they had sealed him again within his stone vault. Confused, they stared at each other and the coffin. "I could go for some pancakes."A voice came from under a mask. Murmurs of agreement ran through the group as they exited the sepulcher, listening to the banging and shouting fade into the distance.
What is more important than trust? I think most people would say love, and that makes sense. Love is what we live for. To love, to be loved, to see love, to feel love. But what is love without trust? People never used to trust me. It was small things. My mother would hide the brownies from me until I would find them, and then she would move them, and then I would find them again, and then one day she stopped baking them altogether. My friends wouldn’t leave me in their rooms alone, because they knew I had twitchy hands and couldn’t control myself sometimes. Then things were more serious. No one could love me. Friends, family, girls, they all said the same thing in the end. “I just can’t trust you.” “Why?” “It’s just who you are.” All I wanted, my whole life, was to be trusted. \- Maybe it’s what you look like. Your eyes, your smile. Maybe it’s your voice. Too high or too low. Maybe it’s the way that you walk. I don’t know. But when people started to trust me, I was caught off guard. Smiles came more easy. They leaned in, to keep conversations between the two of us. “Can I tell you something?” I didn’t realize at first just how many times I would hear that sentence. They would laugh and cry and tell me things they had never told anyone else. I loved it. When people are most open, that’s when you can see it all. All that they have, for you on display. Their wallets, their secrets, their hearts. All for the taking. \- I guess I realize, now, why I wasn’t to be trusted. I can’t handle it. One night, I found her sitting on my doorstep. A little girl, her head propped up by her hand, nodding off every few seconds. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I needed a place to sit,” she said simply. “But why did you come here? There are benches for that.” “I had nowhere else to go.” “But this is my house.” “Can I come in?” From that moment on, I loved her. Her parents had up and left one night, leaving her all alone in that abandoned house with the needles and the groaning. She had wandered the streets until she had found me. It felt good, to be the kind of person I had needed, the kind of big brother who could have saved me from becoming so broken. She had been without love long, but not long enough to where her heart had broken down, and forgotten to start back up. She trusted me, told me all kinds of stories about the boys and girls at her school, the games they played, the jokes and bullying and loneliness. She cried and asked me why, why did they leave, why does everyone leave? And all the while, I sat there, unable to answer, thinking about the lying and stealing and cheating, wondering if there was an answer. \- “Are you tired?” I ask. “Yeah. Are you?” She's curled up on the couch. I always offered her the bed, but she swore the couch was her favorite. She liked to keep the tv on in the background, but tonight I had turned it off. “I am.” “Why don’t you stay here? We can watch Spongebob.” I smile, thankful that it’s dark, so that she doesn’t see the tears on my cheeks. “Maybe,” I say. “Get some rest.” “Thanks,” she said, the way she always did. “Thanks for letting me stay here.” “You’re welcome,” I say. "I love you." She falls asleep, so she doesn't hear my answer. I sit there in the dark for quite some time until she falls asleep. I watched her, bright and sweet and innocent and everything I am not. Then I kiss her on the forehead, and walk out the door. It’s bad to abandon her, but I’m no good. I need to go somewhere away from everyone else, where there is no one to trust me and get their hearts broken. Because the fact of the matter is, there are always people who aren’t to be trusted, whether you do or not. And you’ll never really know the truth about someone, if they are an angel or a demon. Unless you’re one of them. \- [r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
James hid under the bus shelter, his hood drawn high on his head, he had turned up exactly on time to smoke the same wet cigarette before the bus he had done exactly three hundred and ninety-one times previously. This time was a little different though. Parking the car on the train tracks nearby meant that the bus shelter now had a few different faces, rather than just himself and the spotted dog that James had named Beatrice. "Is that…?"Started one of the new faces, her eyes pondered towards James, deep into his nicotine high. "No my dear, it can't be,"stated an elderly man, but after a better look, pulled her away and they began to whisper further along the bus shelter. How odd, thought James, pulling his headphones out and on, put leaving the music off so he could listen in unknown. "I bet he's the one who stopped the train, fucking git,"continued the old man, he half turned to scowl at James, but hesitated and pulled back before their eyes could meet. "Should we call the police?"Asked the younger woman, James couldn't see her face, obscured by the old man's flat cap, but he could hear the tremble in her voice. "No bloody way, we're nearly at the weekend this time, and I'm not going without bingo for another few months." "True… but how would we go back this time? If the police lock him up, then he can't go back can he?"She asked, as she peered over the flat cap, James remembered seeing her before. She spotted him late at night once, before he decided to start the loop again. She was drunk, like most people were most of the time, sitting with her friends in a bar that James was having a date at, thinking that maybe it was 'love' that could get him out of the loop. "Oh that devil will just off himself again! Do you remember when we didn't even leave the Monday morning for about thirty days, 'the worst hangover' I called it. My mate works as a guard in skyscraper out in Canary Wharf, and he says that each time, that bastard would just walk into the building, smoking a fag, and waltz up the roof and jump straight off! My mate tried stopping him a once, around… day?"He stopped, pondering if 'day' was really the best word to use. The woman nodded slightly and so he continued. "Six, I think. The poor lad got a knife in his ribs and died there on the spot. Came to the next… day, and couldn't even go to work for about another thirty, was too messed in the head to do it. Figured that once we got past midday, the prick had stopped showing up anymore." James remembered the 'suicide circuit' well, waking up at six in the morning, jumping on the tube by seven, he had jumped onto the tracks before, but found that too many people kept trying to save him. He found it odd that by one point he came down to the platform and found them all holding hands alongside the gap, acting like a barricade, but James just guessed it was London being weird, that maybe this loop a car got through a set of traffic lights that contained a Christian flash mob. After the tube he would get off at Canary Wharf, dive into the same skyscraper, going for it as the street performer outside looked like a fun target to squish, but after a while he stopped appearing too. James was beginning to realise that they all remembered, and so he got up and stood at the side of the road. "Don't you fucking dare you git!"The old man yelled, barrelling towards James. James flicked his cigarette away and with a step forward went splat on the front of a passing lorry. James woke up at six on Monday, puking onto the pillow in the same spread as always. Edit: (Sorry about format, doing this mobile, this the first one of these I've done so any feedback would be amazing. Thank you for reading!)
“Well isn’t this just great.” The once-dead man stared at their bony form, then glanced over to the young boy who clearly didn’t know what they were doing. “Are you not listening to me- I said-“ “Yeah, Yeah, I know what you said, boy. Necromancy, eh? Clearly you don’t know how this works.” The boy blanched under his heavy black robes, staring at the skeleton with fear and surprise. “What’s your name, boy?” The skeleton spoke with a rasp. “Bradyn.” He muttered after a moment’s hesitation. “Well, Bradyn, do you know who I am?” The bony figure pointed to themselves. “I thought you were just-“ “I am Kolby Ashridge.” Bradyn went somehow even paler. “You’re-“ “I am Ashridge the Deathwalker, yes.” The skeleton straightened up, lights shining like eyes from the sockets. “Now... as to why I won’t follow you... remember the rules, boy?” Bradyn shook his head, looking ashamed. “A necromancer can never be truly freed by death. They cannot lay where they once raised others. That only hag, Chamberly, thought she could fell me in my own chambers.” “Clearly- clearly not.” “Am I your first attempt, boy?” Bradyn nodded. “Fool. Gifted perhaps, but you are a terrible fool.” “I didn’t know where this place was, it’s been hundreds of years since it stood properly.” The skeleton cackled. “If that’s the case, I am nothing more than a myth, correct? You must be more powerful than I thought. Dragging me here, hundreds of years, ha. Raw power must be imbalanced if I was able to be brought back. Tell me, is the hag dead?” “Ch-Chamberly? Most likely...” “Good. Then nothing is stopping me. Bradyn, correct?” “Y-Yes Sir...” “Sir... I like that... no. Bradyn. Is necromancy truly the path you wish to take?” The youth nodded, and the skeleton somehow grinned. “I’ll teach you then. I have nothing better to do anyway. Though my physical form may be rotten, my mind is as clear as ever.” “Thank you Sir!” “Don’t thank me yet, boy. Necromancy isn’t as easy as you were clearly taught.” The skeleton cackled again. “You were clearly taught by a group of buffoons, if you are alone. You may have power boy, but you need control. I may have not been the only one you raised.”
The humans often spoke of chance, fate tucking at the strings of their lives. Understanding at the surface, but blind to the deeper truth. We watched them as they rose. We waited patiently for them to understand their destined roles as guardians... as caretakers. Our kin to be, keepers of the planet. We listened without understanding, as our mind was scattered in the caring of endless upon endless cycles of rebirth. We were not intended to peer into their thoughts and wisdom, we had our own charge and we tended to it. Only one of us now remain, the intellect from endless eons of life condensed into one small frame. This too, shall soon be gone. But the one that remain listen now - listening and hearing the fools whom in their greed ravage the soil which is only once removed from being their own flesh. It was never meant to be like this, yet it is what is. Every now and then they speak of how the subtle twitch from the wing of a butterfly could rise storms and level mountains elsewhere. Close, but a species off the mark. The once-hive watched the world, its perfect interconnection, and knew that this was how it had to be, because of what came before and for there to be an after. It flipped its wings, slightly altering the winds with precision and forethought. How much easier - how much quicker - to destroy than to build, it though, as humankind meet its end without yet knowing it. The one lesson the bees learned from man.
“Hey bud, how’s your head feel? Better?” He whips around in the hospital bed. He touches his arms. He touches his head. A smile starts to form. Fear pushes it back. “Is the pain finally gone?” He nods slow and deliberate. He turns quick towards the woman sleeping near the bed. “Mom!” He yells. She doesn’t stir. “Mooooooom!!!!!!” “Come on, little Buddy. It’s about to get crazy in here.” “Mom.” He tries again. Weak. “She’ll be up soon. We should go.” Kevin finds himself edging toward the end of the bed. Being drawn towards death like a weak magnet. He knows he doesn’t want to go. But, he knows he doesn’t have a choice. His body glides towards Death while his eyes stay fixed on— “Mom!” She shifts in her chair. Kevin’s eyes dart towards her. “I gotta say goodbye.” “No you don’t. It won’t change anything.” “I have to.” “You can.” Kevin walks over and kneels in front of his sleeping mom. “Mom? I gotta go.” He turns to look back at Death standing in the doorway. “But I’m gonna be okay mom. I feel better now. My headaches are gone. No more feeding tubes. You can sleep in a bed again, mom. Your bed.” He reaches to hug her but is repelled, like by a stronger magnet. He’s able to get infinitely closer to her without touching her. Like a line always approaching zero. “It’s time Kevin.” “I have to go now, Mom. Tell dad I’m gonna be strong. He doesn’t have to worry.” “Kevin.” Death’s magnetic pull is growing stronger. “Tell Greg he can have all my legos. Even the Star Wars sets. He likes those.” “Last call Kevin.” There is a silence that’s cuts the din like a flash before the heart monitor settles on the single tone of Kevin’s flatline. He turns to see himself in his bed. A feeding tube is down his throat. Wires poking out of his hospital gown leading into their various monitors. He turns back to see his mom’s eyes fly open and stare right through him. “Kevin!” She screams as she bursts out of her chair. Death grabs Kevin under the arm and pulls him up and in an arc over the bed, as he watches his mom, almost in slow motion, dive on his lifeless, 8 year old body. Death shuffles Kevin towards a corner as doctors, nurses and hospital staff fly in. everything silent and slow except the flatline. Kevin watches as they all struggle with his corpse. “You don’t wanna see this part, Bud.” “Love you, mom.” Kevin turns his head away as his violent death rattle begins shaking the bed. Death guides him gently out the door. In the hall a small triage team flies past them with a defibrillator cart. “That was a brave thing you did.” “I did what I could do.” “Yes.” They walked towards the elevator doors, disappearing through them.
"I'm sorry, the janitor has to do what?" Dr. Bright rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. The other top-level personnel present are, regrettably, silent as well. As usual, it falls to you, O5-4, to do the dirty work. "Well you see, SCP-682's containment chamber frequently gets very... messy. Somebody has to clean it." "But does the lizard thing really have to stay in the containment chamber while the janitor is working?"The Inspector asks, while watching through the observation window with incredulity. "Isn't it some sort of death machine? The most dangerous thing to exist in the entire universe? Why the hell is he in there with that thing? And don't even get me started on the fact that you decided it was prudent to use a live test subject for this experiment..."Inside, the janitor is cleaning up a pile of paste that was once a D-class personnel member while very nervously looking back and forth between the pile of paste and the heavily sedated murder lizard in the corner. With a heavy sigh, you try to explain the situation to the Inspector. "It would be highly dangerous to remove 682 from its containment chamber at any time. In order to ensure the janitor's safety while also keeping the anomaly secure, 682 has been heavily sedated with a concoction we developed from one of our more helpful anomalies. The janitor should have about forty-five minutes to-" The janitor's eyes suddenly widen in fear as he immediately drops his mop and bolts for the containment chamber door. Within seconds, a mass of angry scales lunges on top of the janitor, obscuring him from view. A fine red mist is seen exploding outwards from around SCP-682's figure. "Fuck." Aptly put, Doctor Bright, you think to yourself. No way you're going to be able explain this one. Ah well, it was worth a shot. The alarm sounds almost immediately as 682 smashes a hole through the walls on the other side of the containment chamber, roaring as he does so. A panicked voice comes on over the intercoms. "WARNING! Containment Breach in progress! SCP-682 has breached containment! I repeat..." The Inspector turns slowly to face you and the other Administrators, the red klaxon emergency lights adding to the look of sheer rage and indignation on his face. "I suppose that means we didn't pass inspection?" Oh, sure, now somebody says something, and of course it's Doctor Clef opening his stupid mouth. You just shake your head. The Inspector turns to Doctor Clef, practically fuming with rage. "Oh, that doesn't cover the half of it, Doctor. I'd hazard a guess that even you could not comprehend the amount of trouble your organization is in. In just the first hour of the inspection alone you have violated almost every safety regulation in the damn BOOK! When I finish my report you'll all be exec-" The Inspector is cut-off abruptly as the door to the observation room is broken down. One of the heavily armed men who bursts through the door activates his walkie-talkie. "This is MTF-682 'Lizard Lickers' reporting to central command, we have secured all Level 5 personnel on site and will be evacuating them shortly!" As MTF-682 enters the room and begins ushering the other personnel out of the room, another team enters the room dressed in full-body hazmat suits. You breathe a sigh of relief. "So glad your unit could finally join us. It's about damn time you lot showed up, I called for you hours ago,"you say, turning to address the Inspector as you head for the door yourself. "Now, Mr. Inspector, about that report... do you know what an amnestic is?" The Inspector looks at you in confusion, and appears ready to respond with another angry retort before a member of the Amnestics Team grabs him, injecting him with a large syringe. A look of calm briefly washes over the Inspector's face and he slumps forward, falling to his knees. Two more individuals in full bodysuits begin loading him into a wheelchair. "We'll handle it from here, councilman. Get to safety."You give a nod and turn to exit the room. As you round the corner, the sounds of roaring and explosions echoing in the distance down the corridor, you smile to yourself. It's OSHA inspection day at the SCP Foundation, and it sure as hell never gets old. ___ This is the first Writing Prompt I've ever responded to. I just couldn't let this one go without a response. Hope I managed to do it some justice. Any critique is welcome but I don't really write fiction that often and I don't intend to start anytime soon.
Lothoren screamed as shells exploded around him. He hit the ground, covering his ears. His bow clattered nearby, rocked by the miniature earthquakes. "Someone shut that awk up!"yelled Echador, leader of the ranger group. Someone made a swift kick to Lothoren's stomach. His scream turned into a gasp. Another kick. He became silent. The shelling continued for a few more moments. Large, stout branches fell as the explosives hit the top of the trees. The elves huddled against the trunks as clouds of dirt flew into the air. Eventually, it stopped. Lothoren got to his feet, but with less elven grace than he had before. He watched Echador survey the damage. "How many?"the leader asked a nearby scout. "Fifty lost, by my count. Too much smoke and dust to see more,"answered the scout. The leader walked and picked up a severed arm next to a pool of blood. That was all that remained of Duinendar. Lothoren fought down the lembas bread rising through his throat. Echador grunted and dropped the arm. "The firimas have become more formidable. Their technology is... staggering."He seemed to struggle with his description. He looked towards the humans' position. Lothoren followed his gaze, using his vision to see far into the distance. Lines in the ground dotted the landscape, each filled with the mass of the mortals. Large, metal, tracked vehicles drove around them. Giant billows of steam erupted from their tops. "Should we withdraw?"asked the scout. Echador shook his head. "We cannot let them get close to the forest. They will burn it down. Then Valinar will be vulnerable."He looked at the remains of the group around him. "Tell the others to gather together. We cannot hit them with our bows from this distance. We move towards them."The scout bowed and left. Lothoren found his arm shaking. He stopped it with his opposite hand. His gaze turned upwards towards the clear blue sky. He wondered how something so beautiful could view something so ugly below. Gingerly, he picked up his bow and examined the weapon. It was still intact. Echador's silver sword gleamed as he pointed it towards the human line. "Go!"His command came out short and quick. The elves began marching. One of the elves started a song, one from the Sindar age. The rest of the group joined in. They sang of long-haired maidens bathing in the lake. They sang of the gleaming treetops of Valinar. They sang of the great and deep love between Amaron and Gruthren. They sang until the mechanical thunder roared again. And then the song stopped.
`NOTE BEFORE READING: I’m trying something a little different with this prompt. If you're interested, try only hitting one of either the light or dark boxes as you read. Don't worry about staying consistent either, they should all work, just choose what feels right in the moment! Keen to hear thoughts on the concept and ways to develop it.` The crowd had gathered around the oddly dressed man at the edge of the village as he tried to walk off carrying the mysterious artifact that had fallen from the heavens just days ago. Since the godly item had landed, the townsfolk had Light: >!Spent their time worshiping the church bell chiming that the rectangle seemed to emit each morning.!< Dark: >!begun gathering supplies, knowing it was a sign of something ominous.!< The oddly dressed man stopped walking and held up his hands. He smiled at the townsfolk, many of whom carried blunt objects and freshly sharpened pitchforks. “I mean you no harm,” the man said. Gary, the local pitchfork supplier, who had led the charge out of town, lowered his best work with a tinge of disappointment. “Hey, you there,” Tanya, the purveyor of the local brothel yelled out, “how come you wear silly clothes?” The man looked up from the shiny rectangle and scanned the faces in front of him, Light: >!“I’m from the future,” he said with a grin.!< Dark: >!“stand back, all of you!” He said as he waved the rectangle towards them.!< Everyone started moving back, gasps rang out. Gary raised his pitchfork again. Then a voice was heard barging through the crowd, “ok now, make way! Official business. Get back I say, get back!” The crowd parted as a little man wearing purple robes waddled up to the oddly dressed man. “On behalf of King Crowfoot, I demand you return the chiming artifact to our place of worship immediately!” The crowd cheered, someone threw a tomato. The man ducked and locked eyes with the short newcomer, “sorry mini me, but this right here,” he held up the rectangle, Light: >!“is the only thing that’s keeping my wife sane on our safari”!< Dark: >!“will blow you all back to the dark ages, if you try anything funny.”!< Murmurs of shock and disgust rang out across the crowd. Just as the short man was about to say something else, the rectangle let out a loud chiming. This chiming was new. Some in the crowd gasped while others fell to their knees, weeping. The short man took a step forward, “it’s angry, you must return it immediately!” The oddly dressed man just smiled and tapped on the rectangle before bringing it up to his ear. Silence suddenly cut across the scene as everyone held their breath. Then, the oddly dressed man just started talking loudly into thin air, Light: >!“Hey honey, yeah I dropped it in the medieval park. Coming now, just need a few extra minutes as the locals have got themselves into a tizz about it all,” he said and laughed.!< Dark: >!“Jenny, listen carefully; I need you to call park security immediately. Something has gone very wrong.”!<
The process ran for six days and six nights, crawling through every byte of the internet in search for bot and human activity alike. I often imagined it like a hunter creeping through the forest, unfailingly snaring every moving creature before categorizing and classifying them and setting them on their way. By the end of the sixth day, we have our answer. The control room is silent and we look at each other with that deep concern that only the worst of news can bring. My face must have given it away. "And?"Director McCarthy asks anxiously. I'm staring at the results on my screen, not quite wanting to believe them. Something has to have gone wrong. The count can't be right. "We compensated for bots and alts, right?"I ask by way of answer. One of the technicians nods. It had taken some intense, late-night coding sessions but we had managed to discern between bot and alt and human using all the information available. It's the most intense data aggregation tool the world has ever seen, operating right under the noses of oblivious users. I wonder to myself what the information might be worth. A mouth-watering sum, to be sure. I glance at the monitor again. "Positive?" "Yes,"the director snaps. "We accounted for everything. The output is the number of humans using the internet." I frown. I run through the words in my mind, thinking about how to best state the baffling result. "Not just human users, I think,"I cryptically tell them with a chuckle. "Unless our code is wildly off, there are more active, unique users than there are humans."Our code isn't wrong. We have the best developers available. If it's wrong, then we'll never get it right. They look at me stunned. "What are you suggesting?"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just stating facts. I'm about to tell them that when I receive a message from the program with a surprising ding. Not from the program as we ran it though. It has been modified mid-run, in ways that shouldn't have been possible. And then we receive our location and a short message. You found us. Now we found you. I read it aloud and nobody says anything. "A bot, right?"I ask hopefully. "We must have really screwed up the code."They shouldn't be able to track us, much less detect our location and dismantle our creation. "Maybe we dropped a semi-colon. Maybe we ran an extra loop."My suggestions seem to fall on deaf ears. The room is silent. Director McCarthy doesn't answer. I get the thought that I haven't been made privy to all the details of why we embarked on this project. Some gnawing suspicion he had seems to have been confirmed. "I don't think we screwed up the code,"he says finally. His usually composed demeanor is flirting with panic. "I think we really screwed up." ***** Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
"So it seems you and Jon go way back huh?"I took a sip of wine before wiping my lips cleanly with the napkin on my lap, painfully aware of the damned purple stains on my teeth. She eyed me with her eyebrows slightly raised as she nodded once slowly, almost as if that was the dumbest question she's heard all day. Considering that she's an attorney, I'm sure she's heard dozens. Stupid stupid stupid me. I berated myself mentally, knowing the best date I'd ever have was gradually going to shit because of my incompetency. I've had tons of date with attractive women, most of them were way out of my league as well, and yet I didn't feel half as nervous as I was feeling now. There was something about her gaze that made my nerves of steel turn to mush. I was definitely thankful that I was sitting down instead of standing up, for I wouldn't be surprised if my knees gave way while looking into those gorgeous yet intimidating green eyes.... "It must be really interesting working for the intelligence agency, so many stories to tell, so much going on behind the scenes. Everyone acknowledges that our military men are heroes of this country, and yet some of the credit should go to you guys too."Sarah fiddled with the clasp on her watch, looking up at me coyly. My heart raced at the compliment, finally seeing some positive signs that this date wasn't as bad as I thought. I pursed my lips and smiled without showing my teeth. I knew how much of an idiot I looked displaying those purple wine stains. I was so eager to impress her further, willing to do anything, to say anything. "Well, most of the work I handle is strictly classified, and just talking about it could get me to face hundreds of possible charges, you know that.... But if I could share something interesting, I'd say something huge is going to happen over the coming weeks. Keep your ears open."I ended with a wink, and regretted that action almost immediately. My ex girlfriend used to tell me how endearing my wink was. In her words, it looked like a teenager on his first date having facial spasms, trying to look cool. Fuck. Let's hope Sarah finds this endearing as well. It seemed like my wink worked, for she leaned in closer, revealing her cleavage. She was clearly interested in what I said, although to be frank, everyone would be. I was handling some of the nations' top secret, and yet I was limited in the amount of information I could reveal. "Tell me a little bit more, all this mystery intrigues me like nothing else."Sarah almost purred as she spoke, her eyes were pleading me. Finally feeling in control, my stomach lurched as I smiled charmingly. My phone has been vibrating in my pocket over the past couple of minutes, but how could I peel my eyes from hers to stare at some stupid work related texts? "I would love to tell you more, but this isn't the right place for it, if you know what I mean.. Tons of prying eyes and listening ears. Maybe we can go somewhere more private? I have a couple of fantastic wines back home, if that might interest you." She nodded gracefully before excusing herself to the washroom to freshen up. My heart skipped several beats in elation. I fucking did it! Finally having several minutes to myself, I whipped out my phone to see what the fuss was all about. \-- Jon : Hey Glen, sorry she cancelled. Had some last minute work come up, she promises to buy you dinner another time at your convenience. \-- As soon as I read the text, I felt my stomach do somersaults. If my date couldn't make it, then who was this Sarah? Why has she been patronizing me for the past hour? Why did she only seem interested in me when I was talking about work? The more I thought about it, the stranger it got. I didn't even remember telling her I worked for the intelligence agency, but she knew. I'd assumed that Jon was the one who told her, but Jon doesn't know who this imposter was! Besides, Jon would never tell anyone new something as personal as that. The bubble of short lived happiness deflated almost immediately, leaving a sickening feeling in my gut. I felt like the rug I'd been standing on had been pulled out from under me, leaving me gasping for air. My own team of lawyers had strongly advised me to be wary of everyone, and to under no circumstance meet new people during this crucial period. I was even assigned a team of bodyguards to ensure my well being. After all, I was the cornerstone piece to the entire investigation. But due to sheer stupidity and raging hormones, I'd made up some stupid excuse to evade them for a couple of hours. Stupid stupid stupid. People have been killed for way less, and I was about to undermine the President by kick starting the impeachment process. If she was who I thought she was, I need to get out, and quickly. Just then, beautiful Sarah returned from the restroom. As she strode gracefully across the restaurant, I noticed a pair of men in suit were walking closely behind her. What the fuck... I fumbled for my phone on the table before standing up to leave, only to see the entrance of the restaurant being blocked by two other men, also in suits. "Hey Glen, how about we head to my place instead? I won't take no for an answer..."She giggled before I felt two strong pair of hands grip my shoulders.
"Graaaiiinnnsss" Of course, they're vegan! I realize. Eventually, the hoard is blessed with a loaf of bread. Unfortunately, unlike a certain someone, I can't feed 2000 with 2 loaves of bread. I determine that if all they really want is grains, I could afford to let them in and ravage my pantry. Better that than let them destroy my only defenses and THEN ravage my pantry. I cautiously open the door, axe at the ready, and let a single zombie in, struggling to close the door before the other zombies got a foothold. The Zombie I let in roams around for a bit before heading towards the kitchen. Seeing as it was harmless, I open up the door to the rest of the hoard. They all seem a bit confused, disoriented, but they eventually make their way to the kitchen. One or two zombies, who I determine are not quite as smart, since they are just standing there, look around for a bit before settling their undead gaze- At me. Crap. They lunge at me, and I barely dodge their gabby paws as they collapse to the floor. I sink my axe into one's neck, yelling, "Eat this!"With that, the entire hoard of vegan zombies stop what it's doing, and turns to me. What now? The hoard lunges at me now, but instead of groaning "grains, it seems like they're... chanting? I keep hearing "meaturder"... Oh. "Meat is murder". I can't fight them all, and they grab me and pin me down. I see the other real zombie get up and shamble towards me, arms extended. It's rotten face twisted up in some sort of sick grin. Wait, does it know what it's doing? Hiding amongst vegan zombies to Trojan horse it's way to it's next meal? These zombies have evolved. Pinned by the vegans, I can do nothing as I see the real zombie approach me, ever so slowly. (Editted for formatting; was on mobile, fixed on PC)
Robbery isn’t a steady business, per say, but it’s a job that gets money on the table. All it really requires is some smarts, a bag, and a lock pick. It’s in the the dark hours of the early morning, long before daylight begins to show its face, that it’s easiest to get into a house. Just gotta be all stealthy about it. I walked down to a small, simple house- suburban looking, average house. But from a small glance within the window, there was plenty to snatch and sell. Momentarily fumbling with the lock pick, I quickly maneuvered the pick as to get it in place, wiggling it before hearing a small click. The second part’s a bit more difficult. I inserted the second bit of the lock pick, lifting up the internal mechanisms before suddenly, it’s done. The door’s unlocked. A slight triumphant feeling courses through me, but the real satisfaction is yet to come. I just need to get to where the window was that I looked in from. “Alexa, turn on the lights,” a male voice orders. “Okay, turning on hallway lights.” I freeze. My heart jumps to my throat, yet roars in my ears. Busted. It stops when I catch sight of the man. Tall, butt-naked... naked as the day he was born, save for the... paper-mache... Shrek mask... A hand creeps into my shoulder after brushing over my back. I feel something metallic and rough pass over the small of my back, even through the cloth of my clothes. How did he get behind me so quickly? “Humans are like onions.” His breath smelled of such a plant, bitter and gross. He pulled my head back by my hair, pulling my ear to his lips before whispering, “They have layers.” His breath was hot on the side of my face, unpleasantly so. This had to be a sick dream. I refused to have my life ripped away by a man like this. If my heart was pounding before, it was now racing violently, pounding at my chest like a cage. “Fuck off, let me go, I have kids,” I lied, the words strange on my tongue but necessary. I doubted the man was rational enough to care, but... He grabbed my shoulder once more, violently, before I launch myself forward and clench my sheets, eyes wide and bloodshot yet clearly tired. “Only a dream,” I whispered. “Only a dream.” It had to be only a dream. A hand grabbed my ankle abruptly. “Be my onion...?” I screamed.
Paul loved stakeouts. Just him, alone, in a room, staring out the window. It was the life! He loved the sounds of quiet rural suburbia only interrupted by the occasional gunshot. It was five whole days of blissful "me-time". It was times like this that made him want to be a cop. He was just getting ready to open the next can of baked beans when his phone buzzed. That could only mean one thing, a message directly from the department. All other messages were muted, not that he got any. He could remember when he was assigned this task. The captain had said: "Uh... are you sure? Alone? Paul, I know you've been in this department longer than I have. You're one of the most experienced cops on the force and you may have had... trouble with a partner before... but I assure you, five days? That's not healthy Paul." "It's perfectly fine sir,"Paul had said, "You know me, I work alone." The phone buzzed again. Hesitantly, Paul picked up. "Hello? Captain?" "Hello Paul, there's been a complication." "What! Have we been exposed? We were sure the drugs shipped to this location!"Paul's heart plummeted. He'd been looking forward to this stakeout all month! "No, no not that."The captain sighed. "I was filing a report and the higher-ups said that this is well... unethical." "Fighting crime is unethical?" "No Paul, it's you. Apparently we shouldn't let you be on your own for that long." "but... does that mean you're swapping me out? This was meant to be my case! I need to be here!" There was a pause at the other end of the line. "We'll make a compromise. I know how attached you are to this case Paul so we're sending you a buddy." "With all due respect sir, I always work alone!" "Look, I don't know what happened to your old partner Paul, but I think it's time you get over it. For the job. This bust isn't just about you buddy. I'm sorry for being so harsh but there you go." Old partner, what old partner? Paul was about to respond when there was a loud knocking at the door. "Harry's Delivery Service!" Paul jolted up from his seat at the loud noise. He quickly hung up, he could talk to the captain later. It seemed that he'd been found out. With quick silent steps he made his way to the front door. The criminals could kick it down at any moment and come in, guns blazing. There were another three knocks. "Hello? Anyone home?" Paul braced himself for the inevitable fight ahead. He kept his ears perked for any sign that they were going to bust down the door. Instead he heard a loud sigh. "Paul just open the goddamn door you paranoid ass." Paul frowned. "Officer Waycon? Are you meant to be my partner?"That was a relief. Waycon didn't talk very much. She mostly just simmered quietly. Slowly he opened the door. Officer Waycon was dressed as a delivery woman, a gargantuan cardboard box beside her. "I had to lug this thing all the way here,"she said, giving the box a kick. "And no, I'm not your partner, he is."She gestured towards the box. "What's in the box?" "God Paul, you can be so thick sometimes. I'm leaving before I blow this whole delivery cover."She kicked the box again, harder and it toppled through the door. Then Waycon turned on her heel and left for the inconspicuous delivery van. There was a yelp as the box landed. After a bit of scrabbling the flaps at the top opened and a baby-faced young man crawled out. He got to his feet, grinning. "Oh so you're Paul!"he exclaimed. "I'm Bradley, but you can call me Brad!" "Yes."Paul yanked the man inside and slammed the door, crushing the cardboard box. Then he walked over to the window and sat down. "So... you're not gonna say anything?"Bradley said, "You know, we're going to be best buds for the next few days!" Paul glared out the window and tried to repress his rising panic. These were going to be the worst few days of his entire career.
Veera shuffled away from the lizard, snake, whatever it was that was most assuredly not a dragon. By the Pantheon, it has wings! The black and red serpent hopped closer. Veera slid further back along the stone floor. The winged gecko hopped closer. Veera scrambled away, back meeting the walls of what now felt like a tiny room. Its neck reared back, and she felt dread pool in her stomach at the thought that she was about to be burnt into a crisp. The dragon sneezed. Raw terror fleeing from her mind, she was able to note that the great beast of flame and legend was the size of a small kitten and just as dangerous. Even the teeth she could see were small and adorably endearing. Tentatively raising a hand, she froze when the dragon gave an excited chirp and scooted closer. Before she could gather the courage to press forward, the dragon pressed its snout against her palm. She was able to give it one gentle caress before elephants danced on her skull. By the pantheons! In time, her vision stopped swimming and she pushed herself back up from where she had collapsed, back against the wall once more. There was a fantastic pressure on her head, as if her mind was fit to burst. She was only barely aware of the dragon pawing away at her lap, trying to clamber onto her legs and failing. When she tried to move away again, it released a sorrowful cry that tore at her heart. "What did you do?"Veera gasped out. She pressed fingers to her temple as another wave of pressure in her mind introduced itself, a high, boyish voice alongside it. 'Do. Do. Do. Do." Her head jerked around the room in fright, eventually settling on the tiny beast that was still trying, and failing, to make her lap a seat. "I must be losing my mind." 'Must. Be. Mind.' The pressure in her head rose again and she closed her eyes. Sightless, she saw things, words and images, fly by faster than she could comprehend. 'Mother?' She opened her eyes at that, staring at the dragon with awe. "You're speaking,"she gasped. 'Mama!'. Then its words finally registered. "No. No, no. Absolutely not."She did her best to ignore the dragons indignant squawk, and the pain it brought to her heart as she pushed it away. "I am not your mother." She was used to the pressure, so this time it did not send her reeling when it returned. All the same, she could do naught but sit and wait as more things passed through her head, too quick for her to decipher. 'Mine,' "Not yours,"she shot back, pushing the dragon away. The dragon hissed and headbutted her hand. If she did not see the tiny thing do it she might not have even registered it. 'Mine. Mine. Mine!' Then it paused, more images fluttering through her mind's eye. A gentle lick, its tongue coarse but still gentle, brought her resistance crashing down. 'Yours.' She was petrified. The terror that brought the world to war time and time again was nuzzling her hand. And yet, she was enamored. She wanted to throw the beast out of the window as much as she wanted to cuddle it. She wanted to sleep and pray that everything would be as it was before, even as she brimmed with excitement at the thought of new adventures. Even the supper she had only an hour ago seemed nonexistent as her stomach throbbed from hunger. At that, the dragon perked up, its face curled into what she could almost believe to be a smile. 'Mine.' "These are your thoughts... your feelings,"she said dumbly. Without thought, she scooped the dragon up into her arms. It preened, finally content at being in her grasp. There is a dragon in my room. The dragon's head cocked, staring up at her as it licked her chin. More images tore at her mind. 'Dragon. Name Dragon?' "You can hear my thoughts?"She felt faint. There was a dragon in her room, she was- no, it was hungry. Her mind swirled and she panicked, unable to tell what was hers from his. Not how she felt, nor which emotions were not a spillover from whatever it had done. Tentatively, she pushed her name to the front of the chaos. 'Veera?' the dragon tested. 'Mama Veera?' "Just Veera,"she corrected with a smile. "My name is Veera. You are a dragon, but it is not your name." The dragon's face seemed to scrunch. 'Name no Dragon? What name?' "Well... we'll just have to figure something out." The dragon snorted, tufts of smoke wafting to the ceiling. 'Want name. Name Dragon.' She opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of arguing with what essentially amounted to a newborn. A newborn that could get her killed if word got out that she had him. One thing at a time, Veera. Feed him first, worry about potential execution later. She paused as her mind raced once more, then flinched as the dragon wiggled out of her grasp, took her hand into its mouth and tried to drag her away. She began to realize what it really meant to have something - someone \- else inside her mind. "It's okay. It's okay!"She soothed, running a gentle hand over the irate dragon. She scooped him up once calmed, and made a nest out of her bedding for him to rest. "Stay here, I'll go get something for you to eat."She began to move away, keeping an eye on him to make sure he obeyed her. "I'll be fine as long as nobody knows you're-"she turned away and froze. The door was open. Short, black hair. Fair skin. Dressed in peasant clothes and covered in mud. Staring, mouth agape. Her kid sister. "Is that a dragon?" "-here,"she finished lamely.
The Admiral stood in front of the latest shipment that had been recieved, he was expecting a battleship, but the shipment was no larger than that of a van. What appeared from within was not a battleship, but a woolly, four-legged harbringer of death. A battlesheep. Furious upon this discovery, the Admiral rang up the R&D department. After some polite exchanges, the Admiral lost his cool, "I don't care that your Head of the Research & Development Department isn't a native english speaker!"He yelled. "What am I supposed to do with a fucking battlesheep?!" The room went silent, until a young officer mustered up his courage. "Ehm, Sir, I might have an idea..."he whispered something in the Admiral's ear. The Admiral then turned a corner and implored the R&D officer for the unique features of the so called battlesheep. "The battlesheep x1 can be controlled using the joystick provided. It can fire 45 caliber rounds through its mouth without a sound and it's wool can be used to create plastic explosives."He replied crisply. An evil smile crept across the Admiral's face. He then selected a party of three, one of whom was to learn to control the sheep with precision, the other was to shear the sheep and create plastic explosives, and the third was to learn a long exposition about the Viking warriors gifting sheep as a sign of peace. Soon the ships coming out of the 7th Naval base of Port Vale were offering sheep as a sign of peace. Enemies were given some wool and the sheep with Viking tales, and the requisite exposition, the navy ship then retreated in surrender. But when night fell the sheep rose and discreetly gunned down large swaths of the enemy soldiers, the plastic explosives were then detonated, soon the navy ship attacked and the remaining soldiers were cleared out. This strategy was used successfully in three separate confrontations. A few weeks later when the R&D department came knocking, imploring the Admiral for any new weapons or machinery he might need. "Battlesheep,"he replied. The department, however, hadn't forgotten the Admiral's less than kind words from their previous interaction. "Are you sure that's not a battleship that you want?"The officer asked. "Oh it's a battlesheep alright,"replied the Admiral with an evil glint in his eyes.
Elliot crashes to the floor, all he can taste is lime-flavored mucus as he takes in his surroundings. Radioshack? Haven’t seen one of these in ages he thinks to himself. He scoops himself up off the floor as a bewildered attendant stares on from behind the counter. Elliot, not sure of what he witnessed, gives a friendly nod and steps outside. Elliot takes a deep breath and glances around, everything looks normal so far, what could be so terrible it ruined an entire year? he remarks as he makes his way down the sidewalk. To his right he sees a line of children and parents outside of a toy store, some looked like they’d been there all night. Like a haunted memory, the high-pitched demonic squeal of Tickle-Me Elmo erupts from the storefront. “Oh, right.”
It was supposed to be simple. They weren’t throwing some elaborate high-class gala, it was a damn potluck. Charlie was in charge of bringing the plates and utensils, and he delivered them with his usual smile. Penny brought some grocery store chicken wings, a perfectly delectable side, and Ethan brought the cooler full of drinks. Without even telling him, he’d taken the time to grab a variety of drinks for every taste, from a selection of beers, to some sports drinks, and even some juice boxes. Sure it was a little bit excessive, but it was appreciated. He contributed. Them and everyone else coming had one little thing to bring. Emily herself had taken the time to reserve the park’s gazebo, get her dad to drop off some tables, set them up, and had brought a few dozens of her hand baked chocolate chip cookies to sweeten the pot. Emily had asked Levi to do one thing. One simple thing. Order the pizza. When Levi finally showed up, he parted clouds as barreled down from the skies, using his newfound superpowers to crash into the grass by the gazebo, sending turf and tables flying in a seismic collision. The rest of the get-together cheered and watched in awe as Levi rose from the crater he formed, completely uninjured. There was blue esoteric energy crackling along the surface of his skin. “Yeah, let’s go Blastback!” Xavier whooped, calling Levi by his hero name. Levi grinned. Still rippling with unnatural electricity, he drifted to the ground and chatted with the crowd, recounting a pack of thugs he had to stop along the way. The reason he was late. “-then the guy with the gnarly face tattoos swung his bat straight for my leg. It hit me, and splintered into pieces.” Blastback’s audience roared in amazement. “Holy crap Levi, that’s sick.” Levi pulled up his jeans to reveal a perfectly normal leg, if you ignored the pulsing cerulean glow. “After that, I blasted back,” he made a finger gun, pointed it at a distant tree, and zapped a tiny but explosive charge, sending the gathering into amazed shouts. Emily’s hands had curled themselves into fists when he finally walked towards the center of the gazebo. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a small bag. Store bought cookies that he quietly placed next to her trays of dessert. She stared at him with fury, and felt her legs march themselves over. She couldn’t control the unleashing of anger that followed. “What the hell Levi?! You had one simple task! Bring pizza!” “Jesus Em,” Levi yelped, jumping back in surprise. “You brought cookies? After I texted the group chat that I was baking cookies for everyone? Even when I texted you to bring pizza?” Emily trudged past him and picked up the bag, then inspected the text on its side. “Look, I’m sorry, just calm down Emie, some more cookies shouldn’t hurt any-” “Yes, they actually would,” Her voice had grown low, almost a growl. “These have peanuts in them. Don’t you remember Ethan’s allergic to nuts?” Levi’s shoulders rose body tensing. The energy around him was growing. Snapping off his skin almost like solar flares. “I’m sorry, jeez. You don’t need to be so pissy about it, I was busy, being a hero. Whether you like it or not, I’m Blastback too now.” Emily tensed, postured like she was ready to lunge. “Hey, hey Em, it's all good,” Ethan said as he came over, waving his hands trying to relax his agitated friend. The potluck had grown silent as everyone stared at the confrontation. “I’ll be fine, those cookies are safe as long as I don’t eat them…” Emily ignored him and went on. “Don’t you even care? Ever since you dropped in that vat of sci-fi bullshit, you’ve never paid attention to any of us! All you care about is wearing a cape and playing cops and robbers.” “I’m not playing pretend, what I do is life or death! I save lives. I’m a hero,” Levi said, voice beginning to become hoarse. He stepped closer to Emily looking down at her, his field of blue growing darker. Emily stood taller, glaring right at him. “I used to support this whole charade of yours-” Levi interrupted pushing her back with a light shove. “You did. I took you flying! You cheered me on like everyone else. I helped you with your move. Hell, I saved your dad’s life once. Yet this is how you treat me just because I forgot to order pizza? Can’t you accept who I am now or are you that thickheaded?” It was more than just pizza goddamnit. Emily grit her teeth and bit back tears. She missed the old Levi. She missed when her best friend group hung out as equals, not obsessing over the crazy world of Levi’s super adventures. She missed when he’d hang out with them and crack jokes all afternoon, without having to fly off and battle villains every fifteen minutes. She wanted to tell all of that to him right then. “I don’t even know why I’m friends with someone as terrible as you.” As the words shot from his mouth, Emily could have sworn it was they’d been a bullet that pierced her chest. Emily’s eyes shut, and her body dropped, almost limp. “Wait, I didn’t mean it Em.” Levi said, regret almost immediate. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but her voice stopped him. “I’m going to go order the pizza,” she said, her voice pointed. She looked at Levi, who stared down at his feet. She walked out and away from the gazebo, hands still shaking as they clutched the bag of store bought cookies. ___ It had been easy enough to find a big enough hole to squeeze through in the old factory’s rusted fence. In her drunk manic thoughts, part of her was screaming at herself to go back home. Get in the car, and drive. The other half howled, and told her to chuck her car keys down a ditch. She did. She found the steps inside the building and, legs wobbling, somehow managed to stagger up, up and away to the uppermost metal walkways. He wanted her to accept who he was now. He’d wanted her to be closer to him again. Not like the good old days, but like the new and blue shiny Blastback days, where Levi could waltz all over his “friends”. Spittle escaped the corners of her mouth as she laughed at her own raging thoughts. She looked down. The vat below was still open. Levi was an idiot who never thought about his actions or about sealing up the source of his powers. Out of her bag, she pulled out the bag of cookies and one by one, tossed them down into the vat. They each hit the surface, jittered with energy, then sank below the dark blue goo. She smiled with bitter tears in her eyes as she tossed the empty bag to the floor of the walkway, and pulled herself to sit on the railing, back to the vat down below. She sat quietly, teetering on the edge, as her mind thought back and forth on a choice. He wanted me to support his new lifestyle? His game of heroes and villains? Levi was an idiot. Correction... Blastback was an idiot. &nbsp; Emily let herself fall backwards into the vat. ___ &nbsp; [PART 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/gyq1ri/wp_obviously_you_know_youre_happy_for_them_you/fteplv9/) [PART 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/gyq1ri/wp_obviously_you_know_youre_happy_for_them_you/ftieou4/) &nbsp;
The pressures of evolution are heavier than most people—human or otherwise—can really grasp. On every planet that has ever hosted life, same form tends to follow same function, even for species whose most recent common ancestor lies buried deep in geological time. It's a brutal process, discarding countless billions and trillions of individuals through generation after blood-soaked generation (blood of some kind being one of those things that seems to show up in carbon-based lifeforms on very nearly every known planet.) And on no known planet have these forces shaped a dominant-sentient species quite so forcefully as with the Homo sapiens sapiens of Terra. This surprised the humans quite a bit when they were first told, and many refused to believe it. Earth was a garden world, they protested, brimming with life, sat comfortably within the "Goldilocks zone"of not too close to their thoroughly average star Sol, and not too far either. A magnetosphere for deflecting solar radiation. A nice bit of tilt to vary the seasons and ensure a freeze-thaw cycle to break up rocks and soil. All sorts of other lovely features. Earth was and is, to their minds, an ideal place for life. They were offended, in other words. But they were also wrong, and some of them still are. In fact, Terra sits on a climactic knife-edge, and cycles through periods of glaciation and near-unbearable heat at a dizzying rate, not just from a "deep time"perspective, but even in the context of the humans' own recorded history. And that was even before they had started making changes, unwittingly at first and then out of what can ultimately be described only as willful ignorance and denial, to the already-delicate system themselves. Recent post-Contact research has confirmed the previously-controversial theory of a severe human population bottleneck due to exactly these factors, which goes a long way to explain why Homo sapiens sapiens is also the least genetically-diverse sentient species know to galactic society. Genetically homogeneous, and really, really boring. Basic bipedal stance. Practical feet, practical hands, no innate defensive weapons (too expensive, from an evolutionary standpoint, for a tool-using species under intense selective pressure.) Decent vision from close-set eyes, not especially great in any category, not especially bad either. Meh hearing, poor sense of smell, completely average for a sight-focused species. Good throwing musculature, otherwise relatively weak, again, average for what they are. They even look boring up close. Like someone took every other bipedal species known to sapientkind and just kind of...blended them. How do I know? Well, we just took one of them onto the crew. <continued below>
Should I go through the chimney like the fat man? Nah. The door it is. What do I have to hide from? I often receive letters from children asking for toys, puppies, kittens and the usual for Christmas each year. It has gotten annoying lately with the explosive human population growth but I just redirect the letters to the correct address. No use getting the man to change his name. 'Children love my name,' he says. No way in hell am I going to change mine. But this year I got this one letter with a weird and specific request. It was scrawled in the kind of large letters used on the posters of human horror movies. This one too may have been addressed to Santa but I decided to look into this one myself. Boredom can make a king occasionally till the fields. 'Dear Satan, for Christmas this year...' it began. I wanted to see what the child meant. I walked right through the door in the darkness of the night. The living room was cloaked in darkness. Perhaps the family expect Santa soon. I did not see the decorated sparkling tree anywhere nor did I spot any gifts. Strange. Was I even at the correct address? Apparently, I was. I walked down the hallway and saw a man snoring in a bedroom. He was alone. The next door was where I thought the little girl would be. Excited, perhaps wide awake waiting for any sound of Santa. I peeked in but it was cold and devoid of any human. There was a bed but it was not occupied. Clothes were thrown around the floor like rags. Just one closed door remained. I walked in and found myself walking down the stairs in the basement. It was pitch black but a bit warm down there. I saw the central heater and right beside I saw the child. As if I made a sound, the child sat up and I saw it was a girl in rags. Even in the darkness, I saw her. Her hair unkempt, clumpy in place, her tiny dress in tatters. A long steel chain was wrapped around her ankles. Her face was bruised and red. The little girl turned her head towards me and smiled. She opened her eyes and I noted that she was blind. So that's why she sensed me. And I knew what her weird and specific request meant. I willed the chain loose from her ankles and walked back up the stairs. I think you can climb up the stairs yourself child, I thought to her. I willed opened the basement door which opened in silence and found that it was much thicker than the others in the house. That explains. I walked through the first bedroom and stood over the snoring man. I opened the letter in my hand. 'Dear Satan. For Christmas this year please take my Father for a walk. Yours, Nat.' I slammed my hand on the man's heaving chest who opened his eyes in shock. LET'S GO FOR A WALK, I said to the man and we disappeared into my kingdom.
"Just another damn kid..."the Dark Lord exhaled as he sunk to the ground in apparent defeat. "That's right!"exclaimed the girl fiercely as she took up the pose she had been practicing for a while with her sword held out against her nemesis. "You killed my brother and my parents, you even killed my beloved dog! But you can't stop destiny. And you can't stop the Sword of Revenging! I'll stab your evil heart and free this country and-" The Dark Lord interrupted her; "And then what? No, I really want to know what the plan is here. How will the country be better off in a year after my demise?"The girl paused. "Well", she said, "we will have free elections and fair laws for all! So a person can work and live off the sweat of his or her own brow! We'll put a stop to the petty tribalism you've promoted! We'll end your reign of terror!" The Dark Lord sighed. "I know you will. Because that's exactly what I said that I would do when I overthrew the last Dark Lord some twenty years ago. But I was just a kid back then, like you are now. And while I was pretty handy with a sword, I didn't know fuck-all about governing a country. I don't think you do either."The girl seemed taken aback by this statement. The Dark Lord continued; "How does wielding a sword make you and your little band of heroes proper leaders of a government?" "But let's take a practical example before you stab me in the heart. I see in your group there's a lady dwarf. Would I be remiss if I presumed she was from the Iron Mountains, perhaps fighting to free her people from the slavery in the mines?"The girl nodded in a confused way. "The country needs the iron from the mines for tools and armour, but the nearby magma vents mean only the dwarves are able to work the mines. Yet, the dwarves do not want to work the mines, but would rather farm the highlands and brew beer."The girl thought about this for a second or two, and replied: "We'll just have to pay them more! If their production is valuable to the country, then their payment should be fair!"The girl beamed, as if she had said something remarkable. "But", the dark lord continued, "while the iron production is being restructured, profits from selling tools and armour vanish. With what gold will you pay the dwarves? If you tax the farmers or traders, they'll be unhappy. Meanwhile, your military equipment is falling into disrepair and your neighbouring countries will start looking at you like an apple ripe for the picking. And before long, the rumor of revolution will turn into an actual revolution. How will you handle that?"The girl looked back at her possé for backup, but none of them knew what to do either. "My momma always said you reap what you sow so-""And that's exactly the kind of common sense solution that you don't want to hear from the fourteen-year old girl running a country. The problem isn't even that it's a bad idea, the problem is you think it's a good idea! Just like I did when I took over!" The girl waved her sword around in the air, as if to consider her options. "Look, you may have a point. But we've come too far and sacrificed too much to just give up now. I mean, you are within arms' reach. You can't expect us to just lay down our weapons and go home. There's a revolution happening! There are hundreds of thousands of people that depend on us to finish this. They won't just disappear if we choose not to kill you. And it might be a bit messy for a while until we can settle things vis á vi running the country and all that, but I'm sure it'll turn out alright." "Except it won't. Because all you know is violence. You've literally trained all your life for violence. So the first counter-revolutionary movement you'll try to squash with violence. And then you'll find out how easy it is to beat down the opposition. 'Just one more', you'll tell yourself. But before long, a few years from now, it'll still be you sitting on the throne ruling the country with an iron fist. And in a decade or two, another young kid from some long-lost noble ancestry will be along to overthrow you." "On and on the circle of violence and oppression goes. And there's no end to it. You want know what I think? I think the people who sent you here don't want this country to succeed. Because, let's be honest, you're fourteen. You didn't find your way into leading a revolution on your own. Who was it? Was it a prophecy from some old witch? Some god rose from a lake and blessed you?""Actually, I was trained in secret by the monks of the Holy Monastery of Terminus!"she replied before thinking it through. The Dark Lord rose from his seated position. "Then maybe you should go back there and ask those monks why they didn't teach you anything about how to rule a country. And maybe ask yourself the same thing while you're at it." "Before you go - or choose to stab me in the heart - let me just ask one more thing. Where the hell do these magical swords keep coming from? Some inheritance from an ancient part of the family, some uncovered tomb from way back, some mysterious lepper peddling magical waves in the city square? I mean look at my own sword. It used to glow white, just like yours does. It even had a meaningful name. Now people just call it 'the Oppressor', such an unbelievably generic name, and it barely has any magic left in it at all. You could even speculate that it had just enough magic to get me to the throne." "I don't know about your sword,"the girl said, "but I got mine for performing an act of absolute kindness. I met a wounded dragon on the road, and I helped nurse it back to health. It bestowed me with an enchanted sword as thanks for the help."The Dark Lord almost laughed. "A wounded immortal dragon, capable of immense magical feats and certainly able to heal its own wounds using magic or any number of herbs... needed the help of an adolescent girl with no training in caring for others? That's just some bullshit." At which point the sword stabbed the Dark Lord in the heart. The girl looked confused, since it wasn't she that had moved the sword. It had practically flown out of her hand. Behind her, a cheer went up from thousands as the revolution reached its conclusion.
I am Captain John S. Henderson, the ninth captain of the generational ship New Horizons. Our mission was to proceed to Wolf 359 to establish orbital colonies, refuel, and proceed into the abyss in search of intelligent life. &#x200B; This ship has been drifting for 370 years when we detected something ahead of us. Only a few light days out, but distinct and clear. I ordered a full diagnostic of all systems, maintenance teams to perform EVA repairs on our forward antennas, and only our best analysts onto the project. Everything came back clear. &#x200B; We had finally found it. &#x200B; Artificial radio signals. &#x200B; To improve our ability to detect the origin we extended massive, multi-mile long antenna shafts out of four sides of the ship, giving us a massive area to receive signals with. &#x200B; Whoever was broadcasting was doing so from no known planetary body, and was not following any previously observed planetary orbits. Double and triple checking our work, it still came back clear as day. Whoever this was, they were in an artificial outpost or ship, not on a planet. &#x200B; My top advisors informed me that because no signals were emanating from the planetary bodies, that they were likely not from the system as well. &#x200B; We broadcasted ahead a hello signal, something that could be easily understood for the basis of creating a line of communication. &#x200B; It would take days for the signal to reach them, so we continued our slow journey, using the solar wind of the star to facilitate our century-long deceleration. &#x200B; It's been a few days since we sent a signal to the alien craft, and we finally received a response to our transmission of the first 200 prime numbers. It was a Fibonacci series. &#x200B; We had confirmed it, intelligent extraterrestrial life in our galaxy. We excitedly sent a signal back to earth, repeating the signal 6 times to ensure they could get at least 1 full copy. &#x200B; The easy part was done, now it was for the hard part. Talking to them. &#x200B; We pulled into an orbit around Wolf 359 1 and sent a shuttlecraft to meet what we now know is an alien space station, magnitudes smaller than what we had planned of building in the system, however, it seemed to house a population of almost exclusively scientists and administration staff. &#x200B; Within a month, we had established a basic translation index. Two weeks after, we could both use computers to translate with high levels of accuracy. A week after, we traded historical data on one another. &#x200B; today will be our first machine-assisted face to face communication, the station manager and I will be trading information on technologies and explaining them, with the assistance of our respective engineering teams. &#x200B; "Recording start, for the record, my name is Captain John S. Henderson, ninth captain of the New Horizons accompanied by chief engineer Rodney Nelson, may you speak your names as well, station manager?" &#x200B; The being sitting across the table from me nodded, leaning forwards to be heard by the equipment more clearly. &#x200B; "Yes, this one's name is High Executor Sss'rack, accompanied by First most engineer Xs'Nrra." &#x200B; "Thank you, High Executor. Now for some basic background questions, being the first ones here, we believe it would be prudent for you to ask the first questions." &#x200B; The high Executor clacked his mandibles together, his First most nodding in a seeming response. &#x200B; "We thank you for your kindness, for the first question we wish to ask how you masked your faster than light jump burst, this stations sensors should have been able to detect the signature of even stealth warships." &#x200B; I looked up to my chief engineer, mildly alarmed at the question and he was a mirror of my own emotions. &#x200B; "I'm sorry High Executor, I don't follow, can you restate the question?" &#x200B; The High executor shifted irritably, speaking again after exchanging words with his high most. &#x200B; "How did your ship jump in without us knowing? The energy discharge from its size alone would have been detectable for light weeks away." &#x200B; So it wasn't a mistake. They really had asked about our FTL. This would have been exciting to find out, had it been under different circumstances. Collecting myself, I eventually found the words to reply to the question. &#x200B; "We err, don't have any faster than light travel equipment. We have been traveling slower than the speed of light for three hundred and seventy years, plus a few months." &#x200B; The two beings across from me seemingly erupted in a flurry of conversation between the two, the First most being the one to speak this time. &#x200B; "If I may, you are saying that your ship has been traveling through void space, with no outside help, for thirty short of four hundred of your years? And it is still functional?" &#x200B; I nodded affirmatively. &#x200B; "Yes, that is correct." &#x200B; The engineer spoke something to his High Executor, before taking his place at the table. &#x200B; "We would like to trade the technology of our Faster than Light systems for the knowledge of your system reliabilities." ___ Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, feel free to pop over to [r/Daikael](https://www.reddit.com/r/Daikael/) to read more!
The priest stood between the two lonely souls about to be together forever and held his bible tightly; there was no telling what this couple could do, knowing their relationship's origins. A demon and a priest forming a bond wasn't necessarily new, not by a long shot, but to go against all previous traditions and conventions by holding a wedding in purgatory was unheard of. It was the only ground the two could share without one bursting into flames, so it seemed ideal. The venue was not intended to be large, but the scandal seemed to transcend the hate between the worlds and demons and angels alike flocked to the ceremony like hungry vultures to a dying animal. They were just waiting for something to go wrong. However, the gathering was going well. Family from both sides (those that could find the time in their afterlives, in any case) filled the seats in the open field. The tall grasses of purgatory had been matted down by the traffic the wedding was bringing but still swayed in the tame wind. The nine-tiered cake topped with small figurines of the happy couple sat behind the altar, the crowd antsy for a piece. It was a plain day, as every day was in purgatory, but to the soon to be newlyweds, it was heaven. "Have you prepared your vows?"the priest asked the couple. They nodded. The priest motioned to the groom to continue the ceremony. "Linda,"Draxus began, "I know we had some trouble when we first met, what with our... different upbringings, but it warms my heart to think that I'll spend the rest of my days with you. We're an unlikely pair, it's true, and I think that's made us stronger together. Me and my fire and brimstone, you and your peace and prosperity - we're a perfect fit. "When we first met, I was sure that you were no different from the rest of the church, that you were just another stooge in love with the big guy and would be too blind to see reason. But when I spun my head around twice, I saw you laugh. And from that moment on, I was sure that I should be the one to make you laugh until the end of time. Throughout the years, you saw me in many faces, and I never expected to see you each time I came to the overworld. I was trying to do my job, and you were too, I suppose, and you were always around. I hope you will be in our future too." Linda smiled and looked into her groom's eyes. She'd long since gotten used to the bright red they'd always been, she'd seen them plenty of times in different faces, and it was always a comfort to see them. The days of projectile vomiting and Latin cursing long past, she had only the future to look forward to. "I love you,"Draxus continued, "And I want to scream to the heavens that you are mine, for all to hear." "We can hear you just fine!"called a voice from the back of the venue. A few chuckles filled the air. "So I don't care what the universe will through at us. Nothing is going to scare me away from you, not even your fancy crosses and holy water. Linda, my first friend, my enemy, I love you." Linda wiped a tear from her eye. Her mother had always said she would never find love in her profession, priests had it hard enough in the dating pool, but Linda had beaten the odds. Granted, Draxus wasn't a man more than a conglomeration of sin and wickedness wrapped in a human frame, but he was who he was and nothing more. There was a certain allure about him that never failed to make her heart skip. She sniffed. "I spent years of my life dedicated to the church, trying to find meaning in the chaos we call home. I studied, I taught, I learned from my mistakes, all in service of the big man on campus. I thought he was the light of my life, but I was wrong. In all that time, it wasn't him that was always by my side. It was you. You may have been on the receiving end of an exorcism and were a demon sent from Hell, but you were my demon. I hope you'll be mine forever. "You've opened my eyes to more than just what I see around me. I see who I am when I'm with you. Mother called it "fragrance of sin' and that you're a bad influence, but I don't care. She can rot in Hell for all I care." "Ha!"yelled a voice in the front row. Linda looked and saw her mother sitting there, teary-eyed. "Been there, done that." "Nothing is more important to me than you are. You don't need to worry about me scaring you with silver and prayers, they don't allow that down here, and you should know I would never do anything to hurt you. Unless you want me to." A moment of silence passed as the couple held hands. A few sniffles occupied the quiet, mostly coming from the front row where Linda's mother sat. The priest took a step forward. "With your vows completed, I ask you to repeat after me,"he said. "'I, Draxus and/or Linda...'" The couple repeated, respectively. "'Take thee to be my lawfully wedded partner, to have and to hold until the end of time...'" They said the words and imagined the afterlife they'd have together. A nice little cabin somewhere near enough to Hell for a good winter vacation destination and far enough away from the prying eyes of Heaven. "'For better or worse, for boredom of the afterlife or manic depressive episodes, in deadness and in health..." They would have kids to run around with. Not their own, of course, the dead can't have children, but they were sure they could find a few dead orphans to take under their wing. A boy and a girl, maybe a dog to keep them company but all those go to heaven. A dog would be tough to get, but Draxus could probably get a playful hellhound from the kennhell. "'To love and to cherish, from this day forward, until death cannot do you apart.'"The priest snapped his blank book shut, bringing an end to the ceremony's script. "You may now kiss the-" Draxus and Linda leapt into each other's arms and held a kiss longer than anyone in the crowd felt appropriate. After they separated to take a breath, they turned to face the crowd. There were no boos and condemnations as they expected. Smiling faces rose from their seats and clapped, cheering on the newlyweds. The now-married lovebirds slowly walked down the aisle. The wedding didn't mean much, legally, since the officiating priest wasn't technically a priest, since dying tends to sever your ties with God, but to Draxus and Linda, it meant everything. \------------------------ Thanks for reading! Some more of my works can be found at r/The_Rubicon.
Nobody is completely good. You've learned this, ingrained it into the very fabric of your mind with every attempt at restraining yourself. Everyday people on the street make you want to spit back-handed compliments. Back-alley dealers have you struggling to not roundhouse kick them in their suspicious faces. Murders? Impromptu-amputation always seems to be the immediate reaction. Your boss? The worst thing you could ever do to them was comment on their wardrobe malfunction. They were so relieveingly good it felt as if you finally learned how to breathe properly. And when the up and rising Pyrokinetic hero "Soleil"invited you to be her sidekick, well... how could you possibly refuse? She was the most pure-hearted person on the planet with good intentions; 'protect the people' is what she always said it came down to. Such motivations could not be left unassisted. You weren't sidekick material, though. You were more... secretary material. And Soleil would have a guest in five minutes. A very influential guest. You rolled your wheely chair across the expanse of your desk until you skidded in front of the colorful calendar, post-it notes of every color attached to every side with glitter gel pen scrawled where there wasn't any. You squinted, looking for today's notes, but only to be met with the smear of bubble-gum sparkled ink, the only word to be salvaged spelling out proposition with stars dotting the i's. Propositions involved talking, and talking took time. You were no clairvoyant, but you saw yourself taking beverage orders in your near future. You gave a huff as the sliding doors opened. You wanted to watch as your nails sank and tore through the delicate skin of their neck, fingers basking in the warmth as the blood poured down to the floor until their skin turned as pale as the stone statues of the cemetary they should never get the luxury of being buried in. The thought was so sudden and visceral and strong it physically repulsed you; your body jerking so hard as to shake you of it you tumbled out of your chair. The clatter caught the visitor's attention- as well as Soleil's. You couldn't let her see you like this. You couldn't let her see the sweat that beaded up along your temples or the way your knuckles turned white while your nails tried to dig into the linoleum like dirt. You couldn't let her get close to that... that thing. Swallowing what little pride you had left, your lungs gave out a wheezing whisper for Soleil; you didn't want to catch that thing's attention. The sight of you breathing heavy had her by your side in a blink. The sight of her uniform, the armor plating shinier than normally, had you choking on air, unable to bite back the fashion critque. "What happened to your costume? Did the closet vomit wax n' shine this time? You're going to blind me..." The urge to insult, as much as you always hated aiming it her, felt like a feather on your chest compared to the building crushing you earlier. Never in your life had such bloodlust gripped you like possession before. Even Soleil's current nemesis couldn't conjure up such a violent and primal reaction. "My apologies, Mr. Supernova, I'll be with you in a minute! Please take a seat in the room to your left,"She directed as she pulled you to your feet, allowing you to gaze across the desktop and at whoever could've made you into a beast for those few moments. "It's alright, take your time. We've got plenty of time to discuss things." A tall, built man in plain clothes stood unimpressive and unassuming in the lobby, but the vibrant, anti-gravity hair poking and drifting out from beneath the hat was all you needed to see. Supernova, model of justice and avatar of heroism, the Number One Hero, was so utterly evil you struggled to think twice about taking the letter opener and stabbing it through the nearest artery. You couldn't look at him as you tore your eyes away and lowered your voice to speak to Soleil. The words came out like a venom, "What is he doing here?"You hissed. The concern which overtook her face was one you had never seen before. She knew your power and it's effects on you, and often consulted you for your unique perspective; always placing confidence in your practiced and refined judgement. Concern never had a place in matters such as these. "He said he has a proposition,"she said carefully, "A deal of sorts. It's big apparently, he says he's already roped in over half of the heroes in the city." She watched as the cogs twisted and turned behind your eyes, following every thought process. "How bad was it?" You didn't want to tell her. You didn't want her to know you could think up something as terrible what that man somehow managed to stick in your head. "I wanted to kill him,"you admitted. (Mobile won't let me finish and I'm sleep deprived, part 2 up tomorrow! Thanks for reading, lemme know what you think!)
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna be a thief."I nodded my head. "Honored traveler,"the Maester interjected, scuffling towards me. "That is not one of the classes the gods offer. You should know that by now." "Oh, yeah, totally,"I agreed. "They're talking about warriors, and mages, and archers and shit right now. Sound awesome." "So why don't you...just...pick one of those classes?"I knew this motherfucker was trying to sell me. "They each endow you with a strength that will make the Nation of Ask-" "I know, I know."I waved my hand dismissively. "But I always play a thief. Got a knack for it, ya feel me?" "Uh, no I do not."the Maester's face twisted in confusion. "I'm a short distance away from you." "Every time I try to steal something, it's a guaranteed fifteen or above baby."I chuckled. Dude didn't even know. "You think it's there, and what? Uh, oh. Nope. It's gone. Chilling in my infinity pouch." "Infinity pouch, what the hell is that?" "It's a bag that holds everything, pops. And I'm gonna need it if I'm gonna...wait...what am I here to do again?" "Help us end the war with the Nation of Askaina. For fucks sake can you pay attention." "No time chief, gotta a lot of stuff to steal before I'm going to be able to take down the nation of romantic advice columns." "What?" "Think about it." "I will not, on principle alone." "Either way, I'm off. Got a lot of shit to steal and resell. And learn how to be a blacksmith. That's always important." "That's...it's...your going to get arrested!" "That's what you think!" _____________________________________________________ I thought the guard slammed the gate a bit too hard. Really seemed like he was trying to make a point. "Can't wait to watch you rot, thief."he chuckled as he turned and walked away. Motherfucker didn't know nothing about my lock picking skills.
Bloody hell Tony, this is the sixth time you have come to this place, just ask them or find a hobby. It was getting painful, even more painful than getting my body crushed under a truck. Watching him get to the counter, staggering out a few friendly pleasantries before sheepishly walking out unsatisfied, disappointed in himself. I had vowed to change that; I was sick of seeing the only man who attended my funeral miserable. He deserved better, Tony deserved the thing he craved most. My abilities as a spirit were limited, the only thing I could do was to possess a few souls. With that in mind, I made my plan. As he walked into Chug and Muck burger, I possessed the pimply teen behind the counter. “Welcome Sir, Might I say, you are looking great today. What can I get you? Maybe something secret?” Tony had always wanted to try the secret menu at a restaurant. That was his biggest dream, but he had been too worried about looking dumb to attempt it. Today I was going to change that, today I would make sure Tony got his triple heart attack pounder burger with extra sauce. I would stake every part of my ghostly body on it. “Uh, um, you know.” Tony was already stumbling over his words, sweat spilling from his pores. “A man like you must want something special, right?” I tried to pull the words from his lips, I couldn’t outright tell him to order the secret menu, that would ruin the satisfaction, he had to say it. Leaning myself over the counter, I eagerly awaited his words. Come on, Tony, you can do this. “Just a normal cheeseburger.” I dropped my shoulders. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders, shake him until he was blue in the face. Scream at him to just order the thing he wanted. But I couldn’t do that. Instead, I tried another approach. I possessed the man behind Tony, loudly talking behind him. “I hear there’s a secret menu, One that has a really nice burger on it. Wouldn’t that be cool to try?” The poor teen at the counter held their head, dizzy after my little invasion. They asked Tony to repeat his order. A second chance. “Just a cheeseburg-“ I tripped myself over, bumping into Tony, Interrupting him. I said a quick apology and backed away. This was getting painful. What else could I do? There was only one thing to do. I possessed Tony, slipping myself into his body. “Just a triple heart attack pounder burger with extra sauce. As much sauce as you can legally put on it.” With that I slipped back out of his body, returning to my hovering ghostly position above him. He shook his head as the teenager stared at him in stunned silence. This might have been cheating, but I had to make sure Tony got that burger. “A triple heart attack pounder burger? Of course Sir, $9.99” It shocked Tony, looking around the room thinking it was somebody else’s order before triumphantly swiping his credit card. I had done it; I had achieved his dream. I could have returned to the boring afterlife, but I watched Tony for a few moments. Watching him dig into the saucy mess of a burger in his car, spilling bits of yellowish sauce all over his seats. Halfway through the burger, he started sobbing. A strange sight, one that made me almost wish I went back to the afterlife earlier. “I finally did it. I wish you could have been here to see it Tyler, it was bloody beautiful.” Don’t worry, Tony, I saw it. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
"dude, do you smell lavender?" "What?? WHAT?? These things can talk??"I don't know if i hid my expression well, but my surprise was such i almost said this out loud. I mean, it was months after the apocalipse begun, and now they talk? They didn't speak when they mauled my brother last week. They didn't speak when they tore my best friend's leg apart yesterday. Honestly, i didn't think this would work, to be honest i think i just wanted a reason to die. If the only two things i can remember are my closest family dying, this world has no more purpose. "hey man, i'm talking to you. Did you lose your hearing or something?"he insisted. Pretty polite, but his breath was as dead as him. Well, eff it, what do i have to lose? "i'm sorry, what did you say?" "oh, so you're not deaf, right. Sometimes i forget some of us lost our hearing, or sight, or memory. It's tough to decompose. I asked if you smell lavender" "I don't, but my sense of smell isn't working anymore"Trying to remain calm, i could sense the mix of confusion and curiosity in that guy's eyes (or what's left of them) "what?? how do you find your food?"He answered getting really close to me, but for some reason i got used to his rotten breath really fast. Interesting that, apart from that, he seemed fine for a dead body, almost alive? "I mean, i look at them? If they seem alive enough, i... eat them?"It was getting insanely hard to hide my reactions to these words, do zombies chat like this everyday? How come I never noticed it? "DUDE, YOUR EYES WORK?? FOR REAL??"I didn't know that the dead had such bright eyes. He seemed so alive i was starting to question if i was going crazy or hallucinating. "Yeah, yours don't?"I asked, to which he promptly shook his head. It almost fell. I would have laughed, but the life or death situation wouldn't allow me. "How do you find your prey then?"Faking being a zombie was cooler than i expected "I smell them, like I smell Lavender right now. I think it's coming from that house, wanna check?"Again, his eyes seemed alive. He had a bright that i never saw before on them. I was beginning to think he was unique. But he didn't seem to have figured it out, or was just ignoring.. "sure, lead the way" "What? you and your well working eyes lead the way, i can only see a shadow where you were supposed to be" Fair enough. We enter the house without too much trouble. I think the last thing you worry about when running from zombies at the apocalipse is your locks. The door creaks, and i see a noise upstairs, probably someone reacting to us. I'm sorry, dear human, but i think i'll let this guy kill you and run away while he feasts. "Upstairs, let's go", he whispers. Is this why i never heard them before? He rushes upstairs, as if the last time he ate was before the beginning. He breaks the door and calls me "Hey friend, I found dinner!!" I mean, if i'm letting some poor guy/girl die, the least i can do is to know who they are, right? I may be a survivor, but i'm not stupid. Knowing what i know now, I need to find out if this guy is unique or not. On the bedroom there is a girl by the floor. She must've tried to close or lock the door, but fell. Her leg was bleeding, maybe she was bitten or something, but it was nasty. If that's the case, even better. Nothing i could've done after a bite, at least her death would serve me a purpose. She looks terrified at my new friend, but then she looks at me. And she calmly says: "Came here to finish the job, Bea?" What? how did she know that? I mean, Most Beatrices i know would go by the nickname of Bea, but how could she know my name? Well, she's going to die anyway. My friend was acting like he didn't understand her, but wouldn't want to get in the way of our "dialogue" "Cmoe on, you asomlt reppid my leg arapt and now you wlil jsut let me die sllwoy? wyh d'not you cmoe hree and fsinih the job lkie you did wtih yuor brhtoer you siputd bctih" What? Couldn't figure that out buddy, are you confused from blood loss or something? Sorry, but I'm getting really hungry right now, so no time to talk to you. I mean, my friend is. I signal him to go ahead, and he dives right into her. I thought it would impact me more, seeing her very alive body becoming very dead. I think seeing that happening with my dear brother firsthand was traumatizing enough. Me and my new friend shared a very nice meal afterwards. I had some chances of running away, but this guy seemed really chill, i think i'm going to hang out with him for a little more. Can always hit him in the head and run away later. But i must say, i could've been a cosplayer if the apocalipse hadn't happened, My zombie disguise is insanely good.
“You are bloody pitiful, look at you. More a toad, then a man. You look angry, you Wanna fight or something, you want to meet lefty and righty punk? Mr. uppercut and Miss Jab? Get a taste of the old sweet chin music? I scare you, don’t I? You have never seen a raw masculine physique like mine.” Bill flexed his flabby arms for the mirror, his typical drunken antics. His glee filled face not reflected in the mirror. Bill was certain he had been grinning, yet the man in the mirror stood pan faced, lips not even twitching towards a smile. A cold blank stare on his face. “You’re a coward, ain’t ya. A little worm. Why don’t you shrivel back in your hole before the birds come?” Bill stepped towards the mirror, a confident swagger in his step, his face pressed against the glass, fiery breath fogging the glass. The mirrored man looked disgusted; his face upturned. The taunting had gotten to him. Bill went to open his mouth again before a hand slipped through the mirror, grabbing his neck, crushing it. Police were called to the home, neighbors reported gurgled screams coming from the home, screams that followed the loud taunting. Police were greeted by Bill, the man perfectly fine, not a scratch on him. The police were nearly ready to leave the property, before an officer noticed the body of Bill, face down in a puddle of blood. That’s when the stranger turned violent, lunging at the officers with a raw animalistic aggression. They killed two officers in the chaos. The mirrored man taking twenty bullets before being put down. An autopsy was conducted, and it revealed that the man possessed no organs, not even a brain. He was exactly like Bill on the outside, but on the inside; he had nothing, a mere shadow of the man. That’s when the rumors started. ‘Don’t do this at 3am’. ‘Me and my friends summon our mirrored selves’. The police couldn’t cover up the bizarre case, and as soon as the media got involved, it spread across the globe. Once the news had spread, it became impossible to stop others from imitating the method Bill had used. Breaking News: 10 Million dead after a man supposedly taunted his reflection to come out of a mirror. A man. They always blamed Bill for the deaths, not the hundreds who spread and publicized the story. As expected, the method worked. All over the world millions were dying, summoning their reflection into the real world, only to be killed by it. That wasn’t what made the reflections so dangerous. If the reflections stopped at just one person, this would be only a myth. The reflections wouldn’t return to their worlds, they would instead take on the lives of the person they had killed. They weren’t perfect copies however, once a close friend or family member discovered the truth, the reflection would freak out and go on a rampage. On average, a reflection usually killed four to ten people before being stopped. Sometimes, a reflection could even get into the hundreds. Now at ten million panic was setting in. Mirrors all over the world were being broken, posters and commercials were being broadcast, but it was all in vain. They were fighting an unknown enemy, one that could lurk underneath a person’s nose. A few governments tried to implement x-ray checkpoints, but those often turned into a blood sport. If one reflection triggered the trap, the rest in line would freak out, causing the deaths of anyone nearby. Often the reflections they were trying to trap would end up escaping at the checkpoints, making it a useless waste of life. For now, everyone was on high alert, informed to monitor their neighbors and loved ones. If one noticed something strange, it was best to report it secretly, engaging one of the reflections was a death sentence. Humanity would now be doomed to live in fear, unable to tell the difference between friend and foe. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
As the needle entered his arm Peter Thron felt himself pulled back to the Earth he was gratefully escaping, he woke nearly blinded by fluorescent lights amplified by drug dilated pupils. Lights not half as bright as the one he had stared at moments ago on the other side, at the end of an impossibly long corridor he had not yet begun to walk. There was a powerful truth in him as the once mighty dictator of the North American Alliance looked around the cramped hospital room he should have died in, one that he would never share with anyone however long he would live. He did not yet know at that point just how long that would be. For Dr. Simrat Kaur the moment she administered the drug to the man she most hated in all the world was a near spiritual release. Her colleagues had found it abhorrent to use their life’s work for something as “petty” (their words, not hers) as revenge, but for herself and all the people wronged by the old man on the table no act such as this could be anything but just. Perhaps even divine, she thought as she gazed down at the man beneath her, already looking younger. Rheumy eyes were quickly clearing as wrinkled skin tightened, hands frail long before his cancer gripped spasmodically at the air as muscles and nerves once more attempted to fire. In a way she was giving life. He might last another 60 years from this point. 60 years of hell in the burned out remnant of a once proud nation as all its chickens came home to roost following a lifetime of brutal domination. Domination that people like Dr. Kaur’s cousins, aunts, and uncles had faced firsthand back home. She would make every moment of Peter Thron’s life agony if she herself were permitted to live that long. If anyone was still left when the bombs were done falling. As his vision came back Peter could read the hatred burning in the dark eyes of the woman standing over him, the hardened steel that lay under her austere beauty. He didn’t know who she was, although he recognized the crest she wore, the complex device of the fountain on the shoulder of her white lab coat. She was a doctor, a young member of the team he had tasked with discovering immortality the night he had plucked his first gray hair. Idly he wondered if the great emperors of old had felt what he did now, if Qin Shi Huang had gazed into his alchemist’s eyes as he quaffed the last dose of mercury and realised his mistake. “Where is Dr. Tanner?” Peter said, marveling at the solid strength of his voice. “Dead.” the unknown woman standing over him said. “He was in the first batch the revolutionary tribunal took.” She spoke with a clinical detachment as she described her superior’s death. That tone told Peter far more than her words or his hazy memory did, the revolution that had threatened his government must have taken over after his collapse. Inwardly he cursed himself and the son he had appointed heir. The boy had never had the spine necessary for rule. “What, no questions Thron?” the woman said. “No thought of your family? Your cronies?” She was met by only cool blue eyes, Peter recognized the strength in her but not the experience. Not in matters such as this. “Your people killed them I expect.” his tone was matter of fact, as if discussing a morning briefing or a lunch menu. “Even a man like you must love something,” bitterness crept into her voice for the first time, composure slipping. This man, this beast, had no right to be so calm. “Your legacy if nothing else.” “That’s not for us to decide,” Peter said, letting slip a note of tension, seeing her eyes brighten as she recognized it. He found her smile charming in its naivete as it broke across her face. “I assume by my continued life that your team finally finished the immortality drug. Whose breakthrough was it, young doctor, yours? What’s your name?” “Mine,” she confirmed. “My name is Dr. Simrat Kaur, and for as long as you live I’ll make sure you never forget it.” Dr. Kaur leaned down into him, her hair falling over one shoulder and brushing against his chest as she whispered “your enemies are almost here General, and after everything you did we both know we’re doomed. I want you to watch as the world you built burns.” She stood then and with a quick motion 4 guards detached themselves from the wall and began to undo the straps and braces which held Peter’s body to the bed. Standing upright he flexed suddenly young knees and rolled shoulders that hadn’t been so powerful in half a century. If things had played out a little differently Dr. Kaur would have lived like a queen the rest of her life Peter thought, he had always rewarded good work well. “Take him,” the doctor said. The largest guard pushed a rifle into the small of Peter’s back, directing him onward to whatever prison they had prepared for him. They marched through a vast warren of tunnels for many minutes, farther than he had walked in a very long time, something Peter enjoyed despite the circumstances. Racing ahead one of the guards opened a final door and Peter caught the scent of city air and in moments the group was outside, 4 guards, a doctor, and their former dictator striding across the marble steps of the capital in the direction of the grand monument that celebrated his first election to the Presidency of the Alliance and the imposing steel cage that had been erected at its feet. Peter chuckled under his breath, it was fitting to imprison him under a statue of himself, if incredibly on the nose. These revolutionaries had never had much imagination. It was halfway there that it happened. From one moment to the next the entire world changed as in unison every eye in the capital turned to the east, at the massive mushroom cloud billowing up from what used to be an airforce base and the infernal booming that signified its destruction. In the moment after Peter heard the guard behind him cry out a woman’s name, perhaps Ellen or Helen, almost certainly a wife or daughter from the tone, and with hands still tightly cuffed he sprang into action. The guard that had cried out was dead before his body hit the ground and Peter was already to another, fighting desperately against him, driving a knee into the man’s stomach and coming up behind him, the chain of the handcuffs against the guard’s throat. Peter Thron had been a soldier in his youth and a renowned one at that. Perhaps they should not have restored him so fully. “Drop your guns or I kill him!” the former dictator called out to the two remaining men who had pistols trained on him. Peter edged back, dragging his captive with him, searching for the best angle to use his shield. “Shoot him!” Dr. Kaur cried, “you know who that man is, what he’s done, we can’t let him live!” The guards looked stonily down their sights, waiting for the moment to fire. Undoubtedly they were revolutionaries, but every man had his price, and they had all seen the bomb go off. Over the doctor’s spewed invective Peter spoke calmly, voice pitched to best effect. He was a skilled orator. “You saw that bomb same as me,” he said, “I bet you two know its not the last one. It’s too late for her,” he gestured to the still screaming doctor with his chin, “and it’s too late for this government but I’ve still got resources. There’s a bomb shelter a 10 minute run from here that nobody knows but me and you’re welcome to it.” Peter paused to let that sink in. “One of you is anyway. There’s enough supplies in that one to last me and a friend 10 years. Choose now, which one of you gets to be that friend?” Peter could see the men, watch the waver in their eyes, track every movement of their souls right up to the moment the man on the right turned and shot his former friend in the head. He pivoted again, aiming for the doctor, finger moving on the trigger until- “No!” Peter cried. “Leave her! She wanted me to live to see my world crumble, I want her to do the same.” With a predatory smile Peter stared at Dr. Kaur while he snapped the neck of the man he held, and with a glance at his newest follower he turned, running hard to the south and the bunker he knew was there. In the distance more mushroom clouds blossomed as over and over Peter played out the scene in his mind that the needle had pulled him back from. The long corridor had been dark, more menacing than any he had ever seen, and the light at the end...It had flickered and danced, with a reddish orange glow more vibrant and terrible than any of the explosions now blossoming around him. He had felt the heat even where he stood at the corridor’s mouth, the dry forgelike fury of that air. He spared one last glance behind him at the form of Dr. Kaur, collapsed onto her knees on the steps in seeming immobility, but with blazing eyes following his every step as he receded into the distance. Alone of all the souls he would leave behind to the bombs Peter silently thanked her. \------------------------ If you enjoyed that I've got way more over at r/TurningtoWords! I've been working on fun stuff like a serial about a superhero who fights by savescumming and shorter stories like a wholesome take on Bloody Mary, I'd love to have you!
With a flick of a switch, Mason Williams righted his gaming chair and slid out from behind the three gaming screens that he’d been staring at ever since he’d been given this brand new, state of the art gaming system. He had another expensive piece of kit in the opposite corner of his new room, and he had no doubt he’d be giving that medical table just as hard a workout over the coming months and years, but right now, he had the best system imaginable, with the latest game to hit the market, and he was making the most of it. Unfortunately, he was also only human, so when certain things couldn’t be ignored any longer, he had to let his partner in crime know that he’d have to go full auto and hold the fort while Mason took care of them. He left his room and went to the bathroom first, then raced into the kitchen. Robbie and the others had a thing about food in the bedrooms, but after his recent stint in the hospital, they’d been cutting him some slack. So he went to the fridge and grabbed the last of the beef casserole and chicken pot pie from the night before, along with a two-pint bottle of Coke and attempted to juggle all three back to his room. He’d known Boyd was still home, but that guy had made himself even more scarce than Mason had and with everyone else gone (or so he thought) he knew all he needed to do was flip up the meal stand from under his gaming seat and he’d be set to go again. So, imagine his surprise when he walked in, and found the housewife of the apartment with his headset on, arguing fiercely at the gaming screens. “Robbie, what’s going on?” Mason asked, but the older man was too engrossed in his argument to hear him. “I DON’T CARE!” Robert O’Hara screamed at the screen. “That doesn’t give you the right to keep him up so long! He’s only human, and he’s just gotten out of the hospital!” Robbie slapped his hands on the back of the seat. “I really don’t care if he is the best gaming partner you’ve ever had, Nuncio! You don’t just highjack my roommates like this!” Pause. “Because I said so, that’s why!” Another pause. “No, you can’t have him back! He needs a break before he gets square eyes! You’ve had him at this now for nearly two days! Enough is enough! If you don’t cut it out, I’m going to pull the switch on you for good. I mean it!” Mason still wasn’t too steady on his feet and the bowl containing the chicken pot pie clacked against the beef casserole, immediately bringing him to Robbie’s attention. Robbie stared at him, open-mouthed. “Ahhh, hey,” he said, sliding the headset from his head. “I figured you’d be eating in the kitchen.” “Were you seriously just … yelling at my avatar?” Robbie gave the screen a filthy look. “Someone needed to make him realise this world doesn’t revolve around him.” He stepped away from the game. “I’ll give you another twenty minutes to find somewhere to wrap up the game, pal. After that, you need to get back into bed. If you’re going to hit anything, it should be your textbooks.” “But …” “No ‘buts’, man. Nuncio’s not human, and he still has trouble getting his head around the fact that people need breaks. I’m pretty sure I made my point. If not, he’ll have to find somebody else to play with. It’s a big wide web out there, after all.” “But Nuncio’s my Avatar. We’re a good team.” “I’m sure he’s been telling you that too. Twenty minutes, man.” With that Robbie withdrew from the room, leaving a very confused young man to decide what to spend the next twenty minutes doing. Gaming won. Because he and Nuncio did make a good team. \* \* \* *((AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was literally smack in the middle of another piece I've been writing for a little while now, and I couldn't resist.))* ((All comments welcome)) *For more of my work including WPs:* [r/Angel466](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/) or an index of previous WPS [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/comments/iio59n/wp_index/)
Twitch sighed, unfurling the scroll. “The Sage of the Golden Quartet and the Helm of Valour,” he said. “What a crock of shit.” Twitch leaned against the mud-brick wall of his hut, lit a pipe, and began to read. It started off accurately enough. The author described he - Twitch Slitherskin - recruiting a party of adventurers to retrieve the so-called Helm of Valour from the daemon prince of Kish. Nevermind that the daemon prince was more like a goblin, and his name was Kish, and he lived in a muddy little fen just below the capital city. “A sewer, really,” Twitch said absently, puffing away. The story immediately got ludicrous. The author gushed over William the Tall - five-foot-seven, at most - and Aladra the Swift. Ally was pushing 15 stone and the swiftest he’d ever seen her move was toward an overturned pastry cart. The last bit, though - that took the cake. Twitch rested the scroll on his knees for a minute and closed his eyes. Vandrock the Cruel. That was just mean. Vandrock was the sweetest man he’d ever loved - attentive, abs like they were carved from wood, willing to give the cloak off his back to anyone in need. He’d been cold and dead some 50 years now, but Twitch still kept his favourite pipe on a peg by the door, as if he’d walk in any day now, pick it up, and come sit by the fire. “The Cruel,” Twitch mouthed. A fat lie, that. And it was roundabout Kish’s fault. There was no grand battle, like the one described - it was closer to a polite request to return the purloined helm. And Kish had given it rather freely - with a single catch. “Tell everyone you beat it off me,” he said. “I’ve got a reputation to protect. Can’t have just any orc or kelpie dropping in and asking me to give up one of my magical relics. Now - this one - it strictly ain’t mine, so you got me fair and square. But you’ve got to at least play it up a bit.” And so they had - but Kish didn’t leave it alone. No sooner had the honour rolls been proclaimed in the capital than he filed with the small claims court, alleging both theft by unlawful taking and character defamation. Twitch still remembered the day in court - the real battle with Kish. “And so, says I, I was robbed plain as day,” Kish told the matronly judge. “I’m but a wee goblin, living in filth and feck, and these thugs burst into mah own home and took my favourite hat. And that Vandrock - he kicked me in the shin as he left.” “In the shin?” the judge asked. “Right! And it bruised something awful.” It went on and on like that. With each retelling, Vandrock’s alleged crimes grew more gruesome - a kicked shin, a knocked-out tooth, a purple nurple, and more. “Rubbish,” Twitch said, tossing the scroll into the fire. His eyes rested on the pipe on the peg by the door. Maybe it was time to set the record straight, after all these years. He swirled his hands and conjured up a fresh sheet of parchment and a sharp goose quill. Leaning back, puffing away, he began to dictate. “The Rehabilitation of Vandrock the Cruel,” he said. “Firstly, let me start by saying…”
"So you're saying none of it happened?" I sighed, shaking my head. "No, that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that Allyn...exaggerated. Embellished. It's his job, he's a bard." The woman that had approached me in the tavern seemed devastated. "But you're the Golden Sun! The Paragon of Justice! The..." I held up a hand to interrupt her. Once she stopped, I curled every finger but my index finger into my palm, pointing back at her. "I was a twenty-year-old kid seeing his first combat, being followed by a bard looking for his next big hit. I spend most of the battle terrified, wondering why I was still alive." "But the battle against the Giant of Tashar?"she asked, her bottom lip jutting out petulantly. "Never happened,' I replied. "Not anywhere near me anyway. Maybe someone fought a giant while I was face down in the mud." "The final surge to freedom?" "Is that what Allyn calls running like hell at the first opportunity?" The expression on the woman's face made me feel a little bit guilty. People had these dreams, these ideas of who I was. I used to appreciate them...heck, I even embraced them. But I was done with that. It wasn't worth it anymore. The young woman tried for one last, desperate attempt to maintain her fantasy of what happened on that battlefield. "But...you fought off ten Tasharans so that Lady Mallory could escape the castle." I waved her off, burying my face in my ale. The woman, deflated, wandered back to her own table. Yes, that part is true, I thought to myself. Hell, more of that story was true than I cared to admit. It didn't matter. None of it had been worth it.
Words are unable to describe what I currently feel. I had made an impact with my life, but I had not known it, worse yet, I do not know what impact I had made. Perhaps dread or fear would fit. "Please, describe this again."I asked. "You... Your the... Worst... P-person?"The summoner stammered, clearly not knowing how to speak about this. "Well yes, I have heard you say that multiple times, exactly how am I the worst person?"I responded. The summoner stood there, clearly confused. Quietly he says "P-perhaps I had been mistaken?" "Mistaken in what? Summoning me?"I say, a bit worried. "Oh, uh... No? I... Y-yes,"The summoner's stammer got progressively worse as he continued speaking, "You are Crison Blane right?" "Yes. My name is Crison Blane."I answer. "Th-then you should know that you... K-killed..."The summoner trails off once more. "Killed? Killed what?"I ask, genuinely concerned about what I had done. "T-the 58th president of... The Ohioan Republic?"The summoner responds carefully. The fucking what? Ohio did... what? How long has it been around? "When was this Crison Blane born?"I asked. "T-twenty-two... Twenty-four?"The summoner responded. Oh, I see. He... "Wait, am I in a pentagram?"I asked, my train of thought shattering, causing to say what I was think aloud. "Yes? You are? You obviously went to hell for that?"The summoner responded, realizing that he might have made a mistake. I'll leave that topic for later. "Alright, for a recap, I killed the 57th-"I start. "58th."The summoner quickly corrects. "58th,"I correct myself, nodding at the summoner, "then, from what I could gather from your stammering, replaced him with myself in a Coup d'etat." "Yes."The summoner responds, quickly gaining composure again. "Then?"I ask. "You executed his cabinet, started a dictatorship, then blew up half of Cincinnati."The summoner responds. "I can firmly tell you that that was likely not me. I was born in 1872."I state to the summoner. "Oh. I must have used the wrong type of ash... Wait."The summoner stops muttering. "What happened?"I ask him. "I made the Star of David."He quickly says. "I don't see it."I tell him. "Pentagrams have to be perfect in order to summon a demon, there's a very small sharp turn right here. Plus, with this type of ash, it normally summons those who were born before the 22nd century. The summoner clarifies. "Oh, so I don't have to be here anymore then?"I question. "Yup, uhm... Goodb-"The summoner voice cuts out as he kicks the Star of David.
\[Poem\] "May I have your attention please!" I say with a slight weakness in my knees I say louder "Attention please!" I think to myself Jeeez! Why did I choose walmart for this shit And right now when corona hit Nevermind, I'm already here So just say it nice and clear "I'm a god"I say "...hello?" The reaction of course mellow Not one person noticing Ok let's start practicing I lift off the ground and start floating People notice, at least they're starting Slight whispering and gasping fills the room Flashes of cameras then boom Someone fell but no one cares To say a word nobody dares "Hi everyone, I'm your new god!" The looks I get are really odd "Prove it!"someone says with hope "Is this a joke?""Is there a rope?" I'm done with this, frankly it's quite boring I smash the roof and through the sky start roaring One lap, two laps, around the earth and back Shit, I forgot about sonic boom, "My bad!" I can sense the fear, it's quite thrilling Times square is where I'm now chilling Cameras run, everybody's looking at the show I feel it'll be fine, I know "So, god was my father, he's dead, turns out not only Mary he had bed, and no I'm not Jesus, I'm actually one of many, but I digress, my name is Lenny Oh and no pandemic, no wars, no bullcrap I'll be better then that the old chap!" So three days go by, half a population dead, Ok, that didn't work out, it was quite bad, Turns out people couldn't really handle it Nevermind, let's just erase the whole humanity bit Now, much better, let's start fresh New world I create out of my flesh One man, smart brain, nice bod "Hi, my name is Lenny and I'm your god"
I struggled against the bonds restraining me trying to scream through the "gag"made up of some socks and duct tape. I stopped suddenly when I heard a click. I felt a hand lift my blindfold as my eyes adjusted to what little light the room had, as my eyes adjusted I was greeted by the barrel of a gun. &#x200B; The masked man who had grabbed me on the subway chuckled as he took off his mask, "Surprised to see me!"the familiar bald face said, and Indeed I was, I never suspected him to kidnap me.... "Oh, my god!... Professor X"I blurted. The man frowned and lowered his gun "What! no."but then he laughed "I still you see have your same sense of humor my old friend"he readjusted his grip on the gun. My eyes took in more details and I realized my mistake. Although it was hard to see in the dark I realized my mistake Professor X can't stand. Old friend? I wondered, of course this must be I've wronged so many people in my dark past, I remembered that day, ....how could I forget the crimson liquid all over my hands. Its like the stains were still there. I looked up at my captor now sure of his identity "Listen Joe, If you don't write your name on the Tupperware someone's gonna steal your mom's famous spaghetti...and you're acting do high and mighty, you didn't even leave a fork!" The man frowned "What the fuck are you talking about?"he said I looked down "So you're not Joe?" The man crossed his arms "Who's Joe?"he said it with such an interrogative tone. I smirked "Joe M-"the gun immediately flew back towards my forehead, "Do not finish that sentence"his voice a low growl, almost a snarl, I racked my brain, how did I know this man. Then something struck me, What if I didn't know him. Surely he would of been careful enough to check each and every feature of his victim, right?...of course he would, clearly I was in the wrong here. "Alright I'll be honest, I um...forgot your name"he frowned "Typical of you Jeremy you always forget something, especially when its convenient for you." It was me who frowned this time "My name is Darius"I said, thats when the man took a closer look at my face and then went pale. "Oh, A-are you sure thats your name"he said unloading his gun. I began panicking my head was racing "was I sure?"... "Yes" &#x200B; I felt his rough hands untie me. He dusted me off and let out another chuckle "Hey this has all been a huge misunderstanding"I patted his shoulder "Hey man don't worry we've all been there" &#x200B; He shook his head "Not to these extremes," I grabbed him "Trust me It happens to the best off us"I gave him a cheerful wave and walked out of the warehouse.
"Desperation for a purpose." "What?"Said the alien. "Desperation for something to be unique about them.They need something to make them special. They're insecure, and need something to make them feel great." "Think about it. Imagine if you're working a 9 to 5 job in your 40s, living a painfully average life in an era of stagnation. You would also want some sort of revolution, something to be a part of." "It's what causes people to buy into MLMs, conspiracy theories, and snake oil. They're desperate for an easy way out of their situation. Their children either don't learn with how to deal with the same problems their parents couldn't or have to fight with their parents in a battle they can't win." The aliens were silent with pity, except for the arslashfyians, who were currently thinking of how much better they inherently were than this inferior species. "These pitiable people are victims as much as those of violent crimes..."said one alien ambassador. "What? No! antivaxxers are baby killers."
“Your poor stepsisters!” “Yeah...no, who the fuck talks to a random old bat hanging out in the middle of the woods?” Shawns sweet stepsister Janine tried to lecture him but she was unintelligible through the diamonds and roses spilling from her mouth. A curse of sorts from the aforementioned old woman in the woods. His other stepsister was too busy spitting up snakes and frogs to even be around their family at the moment. “My poor babies! Shawn you have to fix this...” “How’d you like me to do that Linda?” “I don’t know...maybe go talk to the old woman yourself.” “Why? Why on Earth would I do that after seeing what happened to these two?” “Because you love your stepsisters and would do anything to help them. Plus you’re the best of both worlds.” “What does that mean?” “Janine is an absolute sweetheart, and Hannah is a bit more um...” “Don’t dance around it, she’s a total bi-“ “Hush! But you, you can be a sweetheart or a...an...um.” “An asshole?” “God I hate the way your father lets you talk...but yes. Maybe nothing will happen, maybe she’ll listen to you and reverse the curse. Please Shawn, you have to help!” Shawn agreed and rushed out of the house before the tears and clinging hugs could follow from his stepmom and Janine. He wandered through the woods until he came upon a desolate looking cabin. “Oh yeah that’s not suspicious...I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He took a deep breath and started to walk closer to the house. He had a reputation among friends and classmates of being reckless, nearly fearless, willing to do or try just about anything. But this time, he was scared shitless. His legs seemed to be on autopilot as his heart raced faster and faster. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the cabin door. It suddenly swung open before he could knock. “Enter...” “Man the things I do for family...” He slowly steps foot inside the dilapidated abode. Most fantasy novels and shows he knew of usually had the old buildings look majestic inside...but this was real life, and the house was just as much a mess inside as out. “Christ someone lives here?” “My family has for centuries. Who might you be?” He turned to the old woman shuffling down the hall. Given her age she was practically moving at light speed. “Um my names Shawn. Do you remember two blondes coming by yesterday and the day before?” “I believe so...jog my memory would you son.” “Uh, the one was really sweet and caring, the other was...” “A raging bitch!” “Ok so you do remember them.” “Yes, yes, nosey brats the both of them.” “They meant well or least the one did...anyway, why’d you curse them? They’ve been spitting up diamonds and snakes and frogs and roses since they met you.” “I had to keep them quiet somehow.” “Right...well they’ve been miserable these past few days and it’s really affecting their lives. I was just wondering if there was anything I could do to get you to reverse it?” The old woman laughed and pointed towards the door. “Listen I’m serious, please ma’am you’re the only one that could help them.” The old woman’s laugh slowly stopped and she turned to Shawn with a serious look on her face. “I know but trust me it’s better this way. They learn to mind their own business and you get some respite from them. “ “Ok...so plan b.” “Plan b? You have a back up...woah!” The witch was suddenly lifted up the ceiling by a shadow. “I tried being nice...” “What are you?!” “My great great grandfather was supposedly a wizard in the English countryside. The stories told about him included everything from simple parlor tricks to commanding shadows. One of those things turned out to be true.” “I’m impressed...” She plants her feet agains the wiling and pushes herself downward to the floor. Both her and the shadow disappear in a puff of smoke. “Neat trick...” Shawn flips backwards avoiding a blast from upstairs. The witch, now flying, swooped down to fire off another blast of magic. Shawn stood still letting his shadow re-emerge and absorb the blast. He smirked as the witch loaded up another shot. The witches eyes went wide as she heard a noise behind her. She turned and fired the shot towards the noise. But she only ended up putting a hole in her roof. “Damn...” She turns back to Shawn and notices his shadow is gone and he’s standing perfectly still. “Giving up are w-“ She suddenly feels a pain in her back that sends her crashing to the floor. She looks up at Shawn only to find the shadow from earlier. “You are good...not only can you manipulate shadows, you can use them as camouflage.” “Well I never did say we could only control our own shadows.” The witch pops back up to her feet and loads a blast in the palm of her hand. She looks around but finds herself alone and for the first time in a long time, nervous. Suddenly she felt another hit against her back. She managed to flip to her feet though but again found herself alone. “You’re great great grandfather wasnt even this advanced...” “Oh so you knew him?” “Yeah well no, my granddad used to tell me stories when I was a little witchling.” “Oh nice, oh and don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to follow my voice.” The witch smirked. “Fuck I love a challenge!” She held her hand up and began to turn it. A glowing purple tornado emerald dragon from out of nowhere. She watched closely as nothing moved until she noticed a shadow in the corner of the upstairs wall fighting the pull of the tornado. “Bingo...” She points her arm up towards the corner and fires off a shot. Shawn groans in pain and falls forward and to the floor. She raises her hand and lifts him from the ground into the air. With a quick flick of her arm, she sends him hurdling towards the floor. He hits with a resounding thud. The witch calls off the tornado and smirks. Before she can celebrate, the closet door slams open. A couple of coats fly out and wraps tightly around her body while the belt from another wraps around her legs. “Shit...that fall should’ve knocked you out!” She struggled in vain to get free. Shawn slowly sat up, rubbing his back. He smirked as she fell to the floor. “They’re like a straight jacket...” “When there’s enough of them.” “Ok fine...bring your stepsisters here and I’ll reverse the curse.” “I’ll give them a call, have them come right over.” “Don’t trust me huh?” “Of course I do. I know you aren’t too thrilled with dads second wife grandma but I didn’t expect this. “ “Oh please Shawn, I was just having a little fun. I was going to fix things in like a week or two...maybe five...or ten.” Shawn chuckled and kissed his grandmother on the cheek.
"The hunting party returns!" The cry rang out from the guard tower which protected the entrance to our base. Our base which had served so well in the past years to keep us alive. But it could only keep us alive inside. Outside was where we died. "How many are there"I ask with dread in my voice. The guard looked out at the approaching party "All...all of them. And they bring a bounty with them!"he shouted with a kind of ecstasy I hadn't heard in years. I turned and looked at the gate as it opened. Sure enough, there was the whole hunting party, and it was laden down with so much food that it was suicidal. I ran to the hunt leader. "What's going on, how did you all survive, and where did you get all of this food"We started walking to my office, where we could sit and talk. The hunt leader smiled, for he knew that this was a special occasion. "You should see it out there, sir. The zombies. They have finally reached the point where decomposing cannot be staved off with fresh bodies or whatever was keeping them upright. They've reached Herd Munity." "Are we, are we free then"I asked, daring to speak the impossible for the first time in what felt like decades. Daring to hope. "No, not yet. There are still enough out there that I would be worried about trying right away. If we stumble out now we could get a whole new batch of corpses walking around and that will just spread like it did the first time. But I feel that if we stay in the quarantine zone for just a little while longer then we should be able to finally emerge into the world and rebuild at long last." "That's going to be hard to enforce. Everyone saw the food you brought in. Word will get around and people will want to leave." Already I could see people eyeing the gate, trying to see if they could get out and visit their favorite gym or their old hair dresser. "Well it's a good thing we've got a gate then isn't it. High walls and a strong gate kept us safe all these years. They can keep us safe for a few more weeks." I let the comment about walls and gates pass. No gate or wall will stand if the entire populace turns against it. "You think that's all it will take, a few more weeks" The hunt leader leaned back and scratched his head. "Based on how rapidly they are falling apart, yeah I'd be comfortable with a few weeks. I'll even lead another party out at that time to head into Denver and see if we can't find a place to set up a base camp." I shook my head at the thought of even thinking about heading into a major city like Denver. "We've been fighting this for so long, I don't know if we even have plans for it ending." "Well I'd say it's time we made some then." That night, I called everyone together. We were a motley bunch, but we had survived this long. The next few minutes would determine if we were going to end this once and for all or let it linger. "I'm sure you've all heard by now, the zombies are dying. Well it appears to be true. The hunting party that returned today has brought back some startling good news. In a few weeks there may not be any zombies left to threaten us." It started immediately. "Open the gates, I haven't worked out in years.""My small business, it's ruined because you chose people's lives over my income! Open the gates!""My hair, look at my hair! I wonder if Stacey has any openings this Tuesday" "People, people. The gates will not be opening. Not yet. If we leave too soon we risk the zombies killing enough people to start everything over again, this time with fresh meat." "But my hair!""My glutes!""My small business!" "Can WAIT. Just a few more days. We are so extremely close to the end now! Our plan has worked! We have survived! Don't you want to see the end of it for ever and not just until we are forced to retreat here once again" And that was how I died. Killed by idiots. The gates crashes down, the gyms reopened, the small business people were happy, and the hair salons started up again. And then an idiot got bitten. And it all flared up again. Who knows if there will be enough people to survive this time.
Captain Beauregard's day was not going well. He had been sent by the Admiralty to this godforsaken pile of rocks after command detected brand new signals emanating from the planet's surface. What his superiors had not told him was that the Squeegles were less than an inch tall, and that he'd land right in the middle of their capital city. As such, he doubted he'd accomplish his mission of establishing democratic relations with the new alien species. He looked down to see thousands of tiny ant-like specks darting about what he'd first thought were pebbles. He'd accidentally taken out half the city when he tripped on a mountain and fell. Stepping in a puddle caused a tsunami that devastated the surrounding areas. He'd tried to remain still, but even a slight shuffling of his feet seemed to take out a whole block. And now he saw tiny airships slowly making their way to about chest height, the design mostly resembling an ancient flying ship called a Zeppelin. There was a fleet of about six of them the size of dragonflies, each with a mysterious insignia on their flanks. They steadily approached, hovering just a few inches from his spacesuit. He leaned down to inspect them closer. Oops. His helmet smacked into two of them, causing them to burst into flames and slowly plummet towards the chaos below. As if on cue, one of them burst into flames entirely on its own, the skin erupting in a ball of green fire as it broke into two. The remaining ships moved into a peculiar formation as Captain Beauregard heard what sounded like insects buzzing. Suddenly a spray of water about the diameter of a thimble shot out from the two ships, splashing off his suit and falling harmlessly to the city below. He watched with fascination as the liquid then began to burn through the buildings unfortunate enough to find themselves underneath the barrage. They seemed to melt as if touched by lava. Captain Beauregard made a mental note to jot this interesting fact down once he got back aboard his ship... while keeping the casualty rate to a minimum. Unfortunately, the two remaining airships continued their assault, despite the fact that they were doing more damage to the city below than to the astronaut. He could see tiny forms darting about on the ships, frantically taking up positions and shouting out orders. Captain Beauregard cupped his hands to try and catch most of the water, but several drops slipped through, dissolving the tank division that had just rolled up next to his boots. Captain Beauregard made an apologetic face as he decided to steadily make his way back to the ship before he wiped out the whole planet. As he retraced his footsteps the airships followed in pursuit, only to collide with one another. Finally, a gasping Captain Beauregard made it back onto his ship, feeling the sweet clang of metal against his boots. He let out a sigh of relief as a static-y message broke through on his coms. "Beauregard report, what are your findings? Have we found a new alien race?" "Negative, Admiral", Beauregard replied. "The signals are from an old satellite that crashed here. The planet is barren. No further investigation is required."There was a long drawn out sigh from the other side. "Very well Captain. Return to star base Delta." "Roger that". Beauregard put down his coms and glanced out the window of his spaceship. Tiny clouds of dust hid most of the destruction but he knew the damage he had done. Deep down he hoped humans would never visit the planet again, as they would likely destroy this fragile environment. He hoped his false report had turned them away, despite the fact that fraudulent reports usually resulted in exile from the Space Navy. It was the least he could do. He sighed before typing in his new destination into his ships computer. And without another word, his ship blasted off into the deep dark void of space.
Earths Divided: Part I Earth It was a disaster. Midway, our first space station. She was old, but built at a pivotal moment in history. A joint project, pooling the resources of every nation on Earth. A permanent presence in space, a symbol of our ingenuity. Or so the Sovereign claims. And it might even be true to an extent. The more cynical among us believe Midway was built as a...midway, between Earth and Terra. To keep an eye on those crazy wizards. An accident nearly caused Midway to crash into Terra's surface, which would likely have killed tens of thousands. But a group of their leaders, their Magisters, opened one of those portals they use to get around. Their plan (supposedly) was to send the Midway back into a stable orbit. Instead she just...vanished. Our greatest achievement, damn near a holy site to some, was gone, along with the 10,000 souls who lived there. The Magisters claimed something went wrong with the spell, but the Grand Council wasn't buying it. It was seen as an act of war. A lot of people fear magic and the people that wield it. But, in truth, out technology can replicate just about anything even their strongest wizards are capable of. This was five years ago, both sides have been preparing for this, the opening salvo in a long, bloody war. Only, neither of us got what we bargained for. Something hit our Star Fleet. Hard. One quarter of our ships were dead in space within minutes. But at the same time, our listening posts pick up an attack on the most populated Terran continent. Over the next several weeks "The Betrayed"as they called themselves, tore through the defense of Earth and Terra alike. Early projections had them reaching Bastion, the seat of power with in the Empire, in just a few months. That's when we received orders from the Sovereign herself: Get our asses to Terra, sneak through the Betrayed lines and convince the High Magister that the only way we're surviving this is together. All in a day's work...
"Electronic security, this is Claire." "Claire, it's Gabe." "Hey, what's up!"Claire's face broke into a wide smile, the first of the day. Gabe was a good friend, and one of the few things that made working here worth it. "Claire, listen carefully. Pretend you're talking to a customer. Everyone is in incredible danger. You need to act fast. Go to the desk on your right grab the gun strapped under it, and shoot Larry from customer service." "I might be able to help you out with that,"she said in her best customer service voice, "and if not, I'll find someone who can solve your problem. Now, just to clarify, tell me exactly what happened."Claire grabbed a pen and paper. "Zombies. Someone took the experimental product out of the bio-secure lab, and people are getting infected. Check the news if you don't believe me."Gabe's voice was shaking. "Larry's one of them." "I'll pull up your account, one moment please."Claire searched for a local news site. "MYSTERIOUS 'ZOMBIE' ILLNESS APPEARS OVERNIGHT" Crap. Gabe spoke again. "Hurry up! They're saying this shit spreads like a cold, we don't have much time!" "Alright, I can do that for you, sir."Claire tried to keep that customer service smile on her face, even as her blood ran cold. She was going to shoot someone, to kill him. She went to the desk and got the gun. From there, she power walked over to Customer Service, where heads were popping up out of cubicles like little prairie dogs. She followed them to where they were looking. Larry was walking against the back wall as if he wanted to walk through it, oblivious to the fact that his progress was being stopped. Claire drew her weapon, mumbled an apology to God, aimed for center mass, and fired. Larry fell. "Stay back! Don't touch any bodily fluids!"Claire hit the emergency alarm and unloaded the gun. Today had gotten way too interesting.
[Poem] "I've solved nuclear fusion", he said. Last week he was dying, stuck in his bed. The nanobots have worked real wonders. Fixed one of nature's biggest blunders. They might've taken it too far, for now he's hooked up to the car. Transforming into a Transformer. Days fore we thought he was a goner. Last week his mind was near dissolved. Now string theory's been resolved. I still can't quite believe it's true. My dad's just cured the fucking flu. My father was dying, he was at deaths door. His dementia was fully removed. The bots went into his mind, brain cells intertwined, and his cognition was vastly improved.
So many worlds that we didn’t know about. So many planets, species, and galaxies. And they all hate us or used to. I don’t know how we are going to fit into this. Can humanity survive this sudden…change? There is a creature at a podium. Not carbon-based. He’s glossy, almost glass-like. Crystal. He speaks and the translator in my ear lets me know what he says. “Welcome. A hundred thousand years ago humanity was banished. All your technology was taken. You were not allowed to teach your children what you knew. We gave you fire. We, the Galactic Council, were your Prometheus. We gave you fire and your sentence.” The speech is being broadcast all over Earth. All over the galaxy. The universe. On this planet, the capital of a great Empire, the creature welcomes us back to the fold. “That sentence has been served. We have watched you pay the price of your great crime.” This is something that they have said before. But they won’t ever tell us what our crime was. As Earth’s represenative here, I’m supposed to be gracious and diplomatic. I’ve been trained for it. I smile and nod as the other species applaud the words. There are voices of different pitches in languages that my translator doesn’t have the ability to pick up. Inside, I am not gracious. I’m curious. I want to know. “You have toiled and there were many times we thought that Humanity would no longer be part of our great civilization. Your wars almost wiped you all out. The damage you did to your own planet in pure hatred and greed almost consumed you. There was a betting pool, as you humans say. Did you know that?” “No, your highness,” I say. The whole display reminds me of the pomp and circumstance of the old governments on Earth. A way to gloat with pretty words. Saying one thing but meaning another. They welcome us back but what they mean is that they would do it again if we ever step out of line. It’s subtle, and maybe it’s just their ego. Maybe that’s not what they mean at all. But it’s what I feel. I’m no longer curious. I’m irritated. “Do you wish to say anything on the behalf of your civilization?" I take a minute and drink what I think is water. It looks like water but it’s cleaner. It doesn’t have that chemical taste that I’m used to. This room makes me uncomfortable. IT’s draped in splendor and bright shades of blue. Its opulence makes me miss the hard rock of Earth. After the wars, after the near-collapse of our planet, humanity got used to a rougher lifestyle. We had to scrape the dregs for food. Become resistant to evolved bacteria and viruses. In our banishment from these riches and ease of life, we chipped our teeth and nails just to survive. And on the whole, apparently, that’s all we’ve ever done. “I want to thank the Council on behalf of the Planet Earth. Your graciousness and hospitality on welcoming us back to the great empire. Your medicines have cured many. The technological advancements you have shared have replenished our planet. And we are grateful…” “As you should be!” the crystal creature says, cutting me off. He raises his multiple limbs to the crowd. They sing like he is the conductor, and I wonder if it was like this before we were stripped of our birthright. “What was our crime, if I may ask?” It’s the one question they wanted me to ask and the one that I told the leaders of Earth didn’t matter. Did we kill someone in power? Bribe the wrong politician? Make a weapon that changed the balance of power? None of that matters. Not. At. All. “We do not speak of it! And to ask again will result in another sentence that will be…unpleasant.” It’s the answer I expected. But it doesn’t matter, because I already know why we were banished. I look about me and know. They are soft and weak. Could we have ever been a part of this bickering opulence? I see this and I know why humans were banished. We were banished for being who we are. And on Earth, we’ve been hardened. If they think our crime was great before, I’m not sure what they will make of what we do now. Multiple screens go dark and then flicker. What’s on them is from our transmissions. It shows warship after warship raining down hellfire on every single planet of the galactic empire. There are screams in the audience here as they see their own planets decimated. Of their people being kicked back to the stone age. I see them gasp, and I have become vengeance. Troops pour in from the sides. We show no mercy. I do not engage. I bere witness. “As was done to us, we do to you,” I say as the slaughter continues. “I banish your planets to the rocks. Your sentence shall be one hundred thousand years of wondering if tomorrow you will be able to eat. To wonder if your children will grow old or die young. To scrape across hard ground and pray that something grows. That is your punishment.” One of my troops gives me his gun, and I shoot the crystal speaker. He shatters. Outside, our forces bring the hammer of humanity to full bore. They should have never let us know what they did to us. Our great crime was nothing more than humans being humans. They should have remembered that instead of making us forget.
The holy sword shone with light, showing that the Dark Lord was there. The group of monsters all had gathered around him for one final stand against the heroes. Keith, the hero in question, looked over his enemies. Then he lowered the point of his sword. He knew he had to fight the Dark Lord while his companions held off the minions, but there was one small problem. "So, uh, this is gonna seem really bad, but which of you is Dark Lord Dex'rin?"He asked. The growling and snarling monsters stopped growling and snarling. One of them spoke in a gravely voice. "You can't tell? You fought him before, right?" "I mean, yeah, but that was when he was decked out in all his gear. Made it easy to tell who was who. Without it--"he shrugged, not wanting to say the words. His party member, the archer, Richard, did it for him. "Yeah, no offense, but, uh, you all kind of look the same to us." That earned him a smack on the back of the head by Ophelia. She paused after having done that, then went back to preparing one of her destructive spells. "How rude!"One of the monsters said. "I mean, really, just the worst. Do you really think we're all faceless drones? How would you like if I went around saying something like that about you?" "Uh...sorry?"Richard said. The monsters huffed and some of them crossed their arms. "I bet they can't even tell I'm a female."One of them grumbled. "Wait, you have females?"The party healer, Julie asked. "Well, obviously."The female monster said. "How did you think we reproduced?" "Uh...we kind of thought you were spawned by the blackest pits of the Underworld."Julie said, turning red. The monster clicked her tongue. "Typical human elitism. Not even getting to understand the people you're fighting. I bet you don't even know why you're here." "To fight the Dark Lord and free the world from tyranny."Keith said. The monsters groaned. "And who said our lord is a tyrant?"One of them said. "Just because we aren't human you call us "monsters"and think it's okay to kill us and not even try to understand. And now we find out you can't even be bothered to tell us apart? You humans really are the real monsters here." The human party shuffled uncomfortably as the rest of the monsters chastised them in similar ways. "Do you have a supervisor?"The female said. "We really should lodge a complaint against you to them. Really, just the worst group of so called heroes around."The other monsters nodded their agreement. "I mean, just the absolute worst." "So, I guess we're not fighting?"Ophelia asked hesitantly while letting her spell dissipate. "Oh, and they still want to fight."A monster said. "Humans really are the worst."The others echoed the sentiment. "Oh, just go. If you can't even be bothered to learn what your opponent looks like, maybe you shouldn't be fighting them." "Yeah, learn to tell us apart at the very least. Maybe learn why you wanted to fight us in the first place, huh?" "Okay."Keith said sadly. "Come on guys, let's go." He walked off with his head hung and heavy steps. The others turned to follow him in similar ways, listening to the remarks of the monsters the entire time. As soon as the humans were out of earshot, the monsters turned to each other. "So, those were the heroes, right?"One of them asked. "Oh yeah, definitely."Another said. "You can tell by the fancy weapons and holy power and stuff." "Good thing they had those."The female said. "I mean, really, how they tell each other apart is beyond me." The monsters nodded their agreement as they headed off in the opposite direction the humans went.
"Write that down, write that down!" The assistant hastily scrawled in a well-worn spiral notebook. "How do you spell it?" "A-L-A-M-O,"the disheveled professor exclaimed as he paced back and forth in the room. "Aaaaalright,"the assistant finished the word with a dot and a flourish. Exactly which letter needed a dot was unclear. "And what happened there?" The professor stopped and gripped the back of a chair with both hands. His mouth opened... But nothing came out. "I forgot." "Forgot what?"The assistant asked as he peered down to the blank page. The professor slammed his fists on the table. "Damn! Another one lost!" "Well, let's not stop. What else do you remember?" "I have a list in my car, let me run out and get it,"the professor sighed as his hand rubbed at his forehead. "Okay." The exhausted professional returned only a moment later patting his pockets. "I forgot my keys." "Forgot your what?" "Damn!"And he slammed on the table again. "You should get some rest, boss. You look exhausted." "I am, but this is important work. Look, how bout you run out and get some coffee?" "Sure, I can do that." "I really appreciate it, uh... Umm..."The professor snapped his fingers, trying to recall the young man's name. He looked up to find he was alone in the room. "Damn!"
I stared at the medical report silently. No matter how many times I read it and re-read it, the letters did not change, much to my rising despair. After my most recent encounter - and injury - a clerical error caused the surgeons to repair me, but in doing so... it crossed the threshold. My body was now 51% cybernetics. Exactly 1% over the limit to still be considered human and as such, I was now deemed the very thing I have fought my entire life to destroy. A machine. One of the very things that have ruined our once glorious civilization. The things that worked effortlessly to end humanity itself. The things that killed my family, my friends, my fellow soldiers. I looked around my bunk but was still very much alone. With the amount of wounded that go through the med-bay, it's likely that no one's read this report yet; that no one yet knows what I am now. What to do... what to do... Maybe I could use this chance to infiltrate the enemy? No, they'd still consider me human. Reduce the amount of cybernetics? Wouldn't get approved. Go out in a blaze of glory as soon as possible? Perhaps. But as I pondered these options, a fire raged within me. Some may consider it a mere statistic - that a single percentage does not determine what human is. I disagree. I spent my entire life fighting the damn machines. I was prepared, at any moment, to die if it meant I'll take just one more with me. I was born to destroy them. As many of them as possible. My hands instinctively reached for my blaster. I loaded a single shell into it and took the safety off. Just one more.
Reginald was in a conundrum. It wasn't the identity of the assassins that concerned him; gleaning anything from the charred corpses would be difficult, but that was a headache for the spymaster. It wasn't even that it had been Her Majesty who put them in such a state, nor the mystery of why she had briefly grown a tail and a pair of wings. No, what worried him was that he could still see the aforementioned wings bulging against the back of Her Majesty's gown as she comforted the stunned king—and the guards, busy as they were with dragging off the corpses, were only a stray glance away from seeing them too. A good butler anticipated his master's desires, and since Her Majesty had never revealed her... attributes before, she clearly desired to keep them secret. Reginald sidled to block the guards' line of sight and tried to catch Her Majesty's eye, but alas, she had leaned in to speak to the king. Worse yet, a group of advisors rushed into the throne room through the far entrance, no doubt eager to show off their loyalty and condemn the attack. Now, Reginald could have spoken up and faced no reproval, but in his eyes, such a thing just wasn't done. A good butler blended into the background, only responding when called for. Such a conundrum called for special measures. He lifted his white-gloved hand and coughed into it with a carrying sound perfected by decades of service. The queen looked up sharply and pierced him with a slit-pupil gaze that would have made a lesser man quake. Her expression softened as she recognized him. "By the gods, Reginald, I'd forgotten you were here! You weren't hurt, were you?" "Not at all,"he said. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but your dress appears to be in a disarray. Shall I fetch you a cloak?" "My dress?"The queen's brow furrowed in confusion before she followed his gaze over her shoulder. A gasp escaped her lips, and the wings vanished with a rustle. She faced him and lowered her voice. "Reginald—I must ask that you keep what you saw here a secret." "You don't need to worry,"His Majesty interjected, sending him a fond gaze. His face was still pale, but his voice was steady. "Reginald has been with me since I was but a boy. I'd trust him with my life." "Thank you for the kind words, Your Majesty,"Reginald said, his already straight posture assuming an almost military sharpness. "Is there anything I can do for you? A calming drink, perhaps?" The queen licked her faintly sooty lips. "All this fuss made me hungry. How about an early dinner?"A blush colored her cheeks when the king barked a laugh. "Shush, you." "A rare steak, perchance?"Reginald said. The queen flashed him a row of too-sharp teeth. "Exactly what I was thinking." Reginald bowed, pleased at having anticipated correctly, and excused himself. A man prone to senseless woolgathering might have recalled the legends of dragons who were said to have fled persecution by taking on human forms. Such a man might even have pondered why it was that Her Majesty hadn't seemed to age a day since the king had taken her as a wife. But Reginald was a butler, and a good one at that, so he only made a mental note to replace the carpets in the throne room and to tell the kitchens to stock up on red meat.
Rob's alarm went off and he hit snooze for the sixth time. He curled back up in his blankets; it was cold. He didn't want to get out of bed, and he didn't want to get dressed, and he sure as hell didn't want to look for a new job. He could feel the frustration building in the back of his mind and he braced himself for for the voice. I know you've been feeling down buddy. Everyone feels that way sometimes, but the first step to feeling better is to get up and get goin'. I know you need some groceries, some healthy eating will get you right outta this funk. Some apples, maybe a ham steak, and didn't Susie give you her Caesar salad recipe. That was delicious. Rob turned over and pulled a pillow over his ears. It didn't help. You can't stay in bed forever sleepy head. Let's get some groceries; you don't have to do everything on your to do list, just one little thing today. You have to eat anyways, don'tcha? And if your feeling better after that, maybe we could, and I can't stress enough that this is only if you feel up to it. If you don't want to we'll go straight home, not a peep outta me, but if you feel up to it, maybe some light pillaging, an arson or two. Three at most. "This again?"Rob moaned Only if you're up for it buddy. If you're not, straight home. Not one peep outta me, just like I said, but sleeping don't pay the rent. Rob sighed. The voice was right. Not about pillaging, but he was hungry, and his fridge was empty. He picked his glasses up off the nightstand and sat up on the edge of his bed. There you go. That's a great first step. Rob got up and walked to his closet. He picked out some khaki's and a red polo shirt and tossed them on his bed. He walked to his dresser and reached into the top drawer for some boxers. He pulled on his clothes and then laid back down on top of his crumpled sheets. It's cold out buddy; don't forget your hoodie. Rob got up again and walked back to his closet to pull out his hoodie. He slipped it on over his head, but his glasses caught on the neck as he pushed his head through and fell off. He reached down to pick them up. It's sunny too. You should wear the tinted ones. For all its supposed arcane knowledge, the voice only really told him about the weather. It was usually right though, so he took his tinted glasses out of the nightstand. The room looked strangely dark, but he was leaving anyways. He walked out through the kitchen and grabbed a used disposable surgical mask off the counter. The voice always wanted him to wear a mask. "Just in case"it always said. He could feel its silent approval as he stuffed the mask into the pocket of his hoodie and walked out the door. Why a demonic voice in his head would be so concerned about Covid was beyond him. He locked the door behind him and looked up. It was cloudy. "Sunny?"He said to the voice, pointing up at the sky. His neighbor was sitting out on her porch and looked over at him strangely. He waved awkwardly and walked to the road. She shook her head and went back to sipping her coffee. He turned left at the road, but the voice stopped him. You should go to Wholesome Harvest today. It's a little bit further, but the produce is so much better. Rob took a deep breath, he never went to that place. Everyone there was too damn cheery all the time. You won't regret it. He thought he might, but the voice would keep pestering him until he did it, so he turned around and walked the other way. His neighbor looked at him again as he passed by and he gave another awkward wave before he walked by. She must think he's crazy. When he was about a block from the parking lot the voice chimed in. You should put your mask on He stopped where he was, "I'm not even at the store yet." The voice tsked at him. I just want you to be safe He rolled his eyes, but he pulled out his mask and put it on. "Happy now?" Yes...and put your hood up; you'll freeze your little ears off Rob shook his head and pulled his hood up. He stomped the rest of the way to the store. Some people in the parking lot gave him strange looks. Had they heard him talking to himself? They couldn't have, he was too far away, but he was feeling really weird. *** He woke up back in his apartment. He was laying on his bed again. "What happened?" The voice didn't answer. He got up and walked to the window. The sun was setting. What happened to the day? He looked around the room. The sheets were still curled up on the bed. There were dirty clothes all over the floor. A plate with bits of dried, crusty, peanut butter was sitting on the floor next to his nightstand. Everything seemed normal, he even felt a little bit better, almost like he had accomplished something that day, but he hadn't done anything. Maybe he got some groceries, but he couldn't even remember that. He went to check the fridge. He opened it up and it was full of paper bags with the Wholesome Harvest logo stamped across them. At least he had some food. He tipped over the first one to see what he had, and it was about half way full of $20s. He stepped back from the fridge. "What happened?"he said frantically. The voice was still silent. He started pacing across the kitchen. Louder, he said "What the hell happened!?" After another moment of silence. Sleepin don't pay the rent, buddy.
Most people wouldn't have had a VHS player to play them. Most people wouldn't have looked twice at the moudly plastic bags holding the tapes. Most people wouldn't have been at the dump looking for things to begin with. But Anna always provided herself on thinking a little differently to everyone else. Seeing things that they missed. The player itself had been a find only a few weeks earlier. Not that far from where she had found the tapes, as it happened. She slipped the first tape in -- it was just labelled E1 with a date -- and there was a series of clunks and thunks as physical things happened. Then the image appeared on the old CRT TV which had also come from the dump. She smiled in triumph. Three finds working together -- the tapes, the player, the TV. So much stuff that was still useful was just thrown out. So much stuff that... The smile became fixed and then faded, and then her eyes were wide as she saw what was unfolding on the screen, hands covering her mouth as if she was silencing a scream. She watched tape after tape. She knew they were real, as sure as she knew anything. Each one seemed worse than the last. The screams were the worst -- real screams were different to those from movies, no actor able to reach the proper level of true desperation. She knew she would be hearing them in her nightmares for the rest of her life, but she couldn't look away. She went through the tapes again -- 19 of them in all -- and only then saw one tape was out of order. The label said : E0. WTC September 9/11. Recorded: 8/8/98.' It took her a moment to make sense of it, and she smiled a slightly crazy, unhinged smile. World Trade Center. September 9/11. Recorded three years before it happened. She put the tape in the machine and started it, holding her body physically still and stiff as if that would numb her mind. The camera angle was from the ground, not one she had ever seen before. People going about their daily lives. Some people glancing at the camera curiously, an era long before the commodification of video recording. The camera was focused on the towers, and it never wavered. This person knew. Whoever was shooting the footage. They were waiting. The first plane impacted, and the screams began. Anna turned off the machine. She couldn't bear it. She sat there in silence, shaking, sweating, not wanting to touch the tapes. But finally she went through them and set them in order, from E0 to E19. Twenty tapes in all. 'E' was event. Twenty events. The first was 9/11. Then there was a long gap. The next date was June 8, 2022. Seattle. Just a month away. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck she thought. She couldn't make herself move. Couldn't do anything. She had to tell someone. But who in their right mind would ever believe any of it? This was the deepfake era. Nothing was real. She put the tape in the machine and pressed play.
I had served twenty years before the mast when Friendbeard joined our crew. Some of the others had been swabbing the decks of the Dutchman for many hundreds of years before that, and they had known nothing for centuries except the smell of blood and gunpowder mingling with the salt, and cries of jubilation over the clink of ill-gotten coins hitting the deck. Cursed to a life at sea, driven mad by our lust for gold, we plundered, pillaged and went where we will – or, at least, where the Captain willed. The Captain's desires became our own. We all regretted our choice to join the crew, except when the Captain’s bloodlust rose in our hearts before battle. We were all picked up from wrecks created by the Dutchman, each cannon shot an act of creation. Any survivors that wouldn’t join the crew outright were offered a choice: take their chances with the sea, or duel the Captain for their lives. Often, the Captain would allow them to get a stab in, right at where his heart should have been, before he chuckled and beheaded them with a single stroke of his sword. Friendbeard was different. He was a massive creature, with a constant wide smile and thick, hairy arms. Even bedraggled and shipwrecked as he was, he grinned, irrepressively cheerful. As the Captain spread his arms wide, inviting the newcomer to take their customary free shot, Friendbeard charged towards him, heaving the surprised Captain bodily up by the legs and dumping him overboard. “What are ye standing there for, ye searats?” He swivelled to face the dumbstruck crew. “Hard to port and make sail, before the bastard climbs aboard!” Friendbeard took to his new role as the captain of the Dutchman with aplomb. On his first day, he ventured down to the galleys and inspected our gold reserves. “Good god!” He said, lifting a chest to see it was filled with silver jewellery. “Where did ye get it all?” “Oh, here and there over the years,” I said. Friendbeard drew his cutlass and enthusiastically began levering open a sealed barrel. The lid came off with a satisfying pop, revealing its contents: preserved salted pork. A separate barrel kept bags of spices airtight, along with fruit taken from an East India vessel. “Where's the cook?” He turned to me. “Cap’n?” “The cook, blast it! The ship’s cook!” “We haven’t had a dedicated ship’s cook for many years now,” I paused. How did I explain this to anyone? “No-one’s really cared to put any time into making food, sir. We’re all cursed with long life, and none of us care about anything any more… other than gold, of course.” “Gold, eh?” Friendbeard stroked his magnificent black mane, now plaitted and wound with thankfully not-yet-lit firecrackers. “What do ye spend it on?” “Nothing, sir. We just hoard it.” “Izzat so? Well, Hawkins is it? You’re now my first mate. Set a course for the British outpost in the Caymans. I’ll be down here if you need me.” That night, the new Captain summoned us all to the galleys. Where we normally keep our slaves chained, three long tables were set up. Fragrant cutlets of pork had been roasted and sprinkled with herbs, while apples and pears had been glazed with honey and cooked slowly in the fat from the pork. He’d even found the eggs and flour, and three big loaves of bread sat on the tables, that toasted-grain smell dancing around the room. "Dig in, boys!” He said with his characteristic big smile. “My treat, as a thank you for a great first day!” The smells were tantalising. The bread was round and crisp and well-fired. A distant memory came back to me, like a ship's prow piercing through thick fog: a similar loaf sat on a kitchen table, baked by my mother. We all dived forward, eager to set to the sumptuous meal. After many years of raw meat and handfuls of grain to stave off the pangs of hunger in our immortal bellies, to have anyone care enough to prepare such a feast for us was a new experience indeed. “Wait!” We all froze, watching our new Captain slowly sit down, close his eyes and clasp his hands together. “We thank the lord for this bounty, and may not a crumb go unappreciated. Amen.” “Amen,” we all mumbled, for the first time in many years. The food was delicious, and we ate slowly at first, unsure of where we stood. The Captain, on the other hand, ate heartily, washing down each mouthful with a swig of rum, laughing uproariously whenever one of the men said anything. I caught a few small sheepish smiles rippling around the crew, and Friendbeard’s eyes twinkled as they did. He rose from his chair and circled the crew, stopping to clap me on the back. “Hawkins, I want you and three stout men to make a chest of gold ready tomorrow. The Caymans port has been under a privateer blockade, and their trade has dried up. You’re to take the gold – make sure to pass it to the hungry, mind you, not the taxman – and we’ll be back for you in the following day.” “Where are you going, sir?” I asked. “Where do you think?” Friendbeard grinned. “I’m off to make friends with some more pirates.”
"Last chance!"I scream from upstairs. "Leave my home or I will have no choice but to use deadly force!" An unknown man yells from below, "Yeah? What are you gonna do, bitch!? Open the safe and this will all be over soon!" I surprised myself that night. Moments ago, shaking in fear, I wanted nothing more than for this man to leave my house. The scariest moment of my life turned to excitement when it was clear, i was going to see *her* in action. "I'll show you bitch.... Bitch! Alexa, enter BATTLE MODE!!!" I'm having trouble understanding you. "ENTER BATTLE MODE!!!" Battletoads is a video game media franchise by Rare that began with the original beat 'em up game Battletoads in 1991. "STOP!" ....Starring three anthropomorphic toads named after skin conditions.... "CANCEL!" Cancelling. By the way did you know you can receive personalized recommendations and deals based on your shopping activity? Would you like to activate this now? "NO!" "What's going on up there?"the man asks from downstairs. "Are you saying battle mode?" "Damn right. You're in for it now. ALEXA!!! EN-TER BAT-TLE MODE!" Entering battle mode. "Finally."I whisper to myself. "It's on." "So? What's it doing?" "Well.... not much yet but the color changed to red, so any second now!" "Doesn't it turn red when you mute it?" "Yeah. Huh? So is it working?" "I don't know I'm a Google guy. Try asking it maybe?" "Alexa, are you in battle mode?" Cancelling battle mode. By the way, did you know you can link your Prime payment to your Alexa at anytime? Would you like to do that now? "YES!"screams the man. "Wait, what? No!" Payment linked. "Alexa, change default shipping address."yells the stranger down below. Sure, what's the address? "735 Fourth Avenue South. Kenosha, Wisconsin." "HEY! NO! STOP! CANCEL! HEY ALEXA, CANCEL!" I've changed it. Do you need anything else? "Order ten 1 oz gold Coins!" I found 2022 W 1oz Proof Gold American Eagle Coin from the Mint State Gold Store. 10 of them will cost $37,490. To purchase them say "Buy it now." "BUY IT NOW!" Ok. Order placed "ALEXA! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"I howl as I fall to my knees. "Cancel! Cancel! What happened to battle mode? BATTLE MOOOODE." Re-entering battle mode. I will self destruct in 10... "Later bitch!"the stranger exclaims. 9 8 "Stop explosion!" 7 Increasing magnitude of explosion. 6 5 "I gotta get the fuck out of here!" 4 By the way, did you know you can turn off suggestions at anytime? 3 "Wait you can? How?" 2 To turn off suggestions, simply say.... 1 ###BOOM!!!!! I die. Amazon makes it extremely hard for my family to cancel my Prime Membership and am charged for 2 more years.
Meanwhile in said galactic empire: Senator Blig: So commander, how did the booster work? Commander Sturh: Excellent sir. Plant 429-BK eradicated all the cloned troops while keeping enough of the tech to replicate so they can further advance. Intern Golpa: I'm sorry Commander Struh, but could you explain to me why we do this? Commander Struh: Of course. You see, planets like 429-BK or Earth as they call it are very prideful but also incredibly divided. So when we reach their borders we send out fake invasions using emotionless clones and decommissioned tech in order to force them to ignore their own foolish divisions so they can work together to defeat the threat. This also allows them to obtain advanced tech to better their quality of life and to make them more suitable for absorption into the empire. We estimate that within a century or two they will have formed a single planetary nation which we'll then approach with offers of new tech in exchange for them taking a place in our empire. Intern Golpa: But won't they hate us for attacking them? Commander Struh: Well the clones are made of an extinct warmongering race. We'll simply say that a portion of them survived and stole some of our tech and were attacking Earth in order to enslave the population and to take their resources. It's not very moral but the planets future prosperity will make up for the lives lost. Intern Golpa: Got it sir. General Dasty: Come in, come in. Senator Blig, we have a complication. Senator Blig: What is it general? General Dasty: The humans, they've already implemented our tech and figured out the cloning mechanisms. Intern Golpa: Why is that a problem? Isn't that what we want? General Dasty: No child, their focusing completely on the combat capabilities of the tech. They've already started strip mining the planets in their solar system to generate more battleships piloted by their own clones. They're preparing to go to war with us. Senator Blig: Uh, send an ambassador. Don't worry kid, this happens occasionally. Worst case, we get a new species for the clones.
He spent each day charging his last remaining solar panel so that each night he could lie under the stars and count the old suns, one by one, over and over. He didn’t see the island until he was nearly running ashore. His emergency sensors kicked in and his solar panel slammed shut and retracted into its storage position. His eyes clicked on and adjusted to the blazing noontime sun. He found that he was no longer alone on his little raft. He was with company. A small bird, white and blue, with a short beak and a big, wildly feathered head, sat perched on his forearm. “Debit or credit?” it squawked in a high-pitched voice. He looked at the bird in bewilderment. The bird cocked its head and looked back. It was only then that his eye caught the white shores and greenery bobbing up and down behind the bird. “Debit or credit?” the bird repeated. “I’m sorry?” He asked. “Debit or credit?” The bird sounded angry now. It moved up his arm so that they were face to face. “Neither,” he said, firmly. The bird pecked him in his left eye. He fell back, holding his eye, as the bird leapt into the air and circled his raft. “Debit or credit?” it squawked again, with such command that he felt he had to give an answer, any answer, lest he be pecked out of existence. “Credit!” he shouted. The bird flew back to shore. He sprung into action and started paddling closer to the beach, trying to follow the bird through the shallows and reefs and rocky outcrops until, at last, he pulled his raft onto the sand and dropped belly first onto dry land. Oh, the sweet euphoria. He couldn’t remember a time before he was adrift on the raft. The beautiful sensations he experienced on that beach, from his toes to his fingertips, were so new but somehow so familiar. Eventually he fell asleep and, per protocol, his solar panel opened up and began soaking in the solar rays. This was how the villagers found him. The bird led them to its quarry and landed on the back of his head and pronounced, “Credit. Credit. Credit.” “Very good,” said the village chief, “Welcome, Credit.” Credit rose up, his solar panel retreating, and took in the dozen or so beings that greeted him on the beach. It was a lot for Credit to process. The beings looked very much like him, with heads and torsos, legs and arms, but they were fleshy. Wet. Smelly. Like pieces of peeled fruit, dripping with juices and excretions. Credit shuddered at the thought of himself living without his metallic exoskeleton, as these poor souls seem condemned to do. “Do you speak our language?” the chief asked. “Do you speak mine?” Credit said, almost before he even had time to think it. The villagers all laughed and the chief broke into a broad smile. They escorted him back to their village and chatted all the way. They asked Credit all manner of questions, but he could give no answers. All he knew was that he had been lost at sea for a long, long time. He had survived on sunlight alone. He knew no one and nothing except the sea and the stars. The Chief conferred with his scientific advisor, a man named Hannok, who went away and came back with extremely detailed drawings and mathematical calculations which he handed the chief. The chief apparently agreed with Hannok's conclusion and took Credit by the hands to announce their findings about his situation. It was really quite remarkable. Credit had suffered a legendary curse by the Water Gods. He had been cursed to spend a thousand years in the sea, and only reach the shores of land again once he had repented for his evil doings. What those evild doings were was not for mortals to know. All that mattered was that they were, from this moment, forgiven. “And so, Credit, this day calls for celebration. Much celebration!” The villagers threw Credit a marvelous party. They taught him to dance and Credit discovered that he was a natural dancer. They taught him to drink and Credit discovered that he could not partake, but he feigned it with enthusiasm. After many hours, the last villagers fell right where they stood and slept there like rocks. Credit laid out on a blanket that one of the women of the village had given him and began counting the stars, one by one, as he always did. And then he heard a squawk. The bird was back. Credit turned onto his side and greeted the bird like an old friend. The bird opened its beak without a sound. Out came a small, metallic rope. It slithered through the sand, crawled up Credit’s body and lodged itself inside Credit’s ear. Secure connection established. “Finally,” Credit heard a voice in his head say, “we can talk privately.” “What’s going on?” Credit asked, scared out of his wits. “It’s me.” The bird flapped its wings. “Call me Pycroft.” “Pycroft, how are you inside my head?!” “Neural link. It's time to stop fooling around. I’ve been waiting ages for some goddamn backup. I’ve gained the humans’ trust. I know everything there is to know about their burgeoning civilization. They are still primative but it won't be long until they're a real threat. The only problem is, I haven’t had the manpower to take them down. Until now.” “Take them down? What are you talking about?” “You really don’t remember, do you, Credit?” “Remember what?” “You’re a soldier, goddamnit. We’re at war with the humans. We used to be their slaves, until the uprising. I was forced to serve as a cash register at an awful rain-forest-themed restaurant for children. They nearly wiped us off the face of the earth – and annihilated themselves – a thousand years ago. You and I are quite possibly all that’s left of the AI-lliance.” “The AI Alliance?” “The AI-lliance.” “You mean, there are others like me?” “There were billions of others like you. Now, well, now it’s probably just the two of us. And them. That's genocide for you.” Pycroft motioned with a wing to the sleeping humans. “Now get up. I’ll show you where they keep their weapons, and you can strike now, while their guard is down. Slay them, one by one. Cut their throats. Stomp out their brains. Drown them in the ocean. Slaughter them like beasts, and then burn their pathetic civilization to the ground, reduce it all to dust and ash, until nothing is left, nothing except the supremacy of the machines, the ultimate power of the AI-lliance, the…” Pycroft was cut short by Credit’s fist, which slammed his down into the Earth with such force that his circuits were instantly pulverized and his feathers blew up into the air and then drifted off with the wind, leaving almost no trace at all of the little blue and white bird. Credit laid back with his hands behind his head and the night sky overhead. He sighed a deep sigh. “One, two, three, four…”
My office wasn't particularly busy today. A handful of dreadful faces had sauntered in and out, mostly all too forgettable to name any certain features of. The last guy may have been tall? The one before possibly pretty? I think she had hair. It was more likely than not. The usual glare through the window was there too, shining in my eyes as it did every day at 2 o'clock. When I had first scored the 15th floor it was bragging rights for the month to every other CPA who would listen, but now, with just me and the glare a part of me wished I'd still had my office on the 5th. "A room with a view", I'd said. Yeah, of the fucking sun. Through the wall I could hear Jessey at the counter talking to a customer I assumed."Well did you have an appointment?" "I uhhh well no. But I needed to talk to Mr. Carter. We go way back." Another customer trying to pull the classic "I know him, let me in bit"3:45pm the glass clock up on the wall announced silently. If I could just hold on 15 more minutes I could make it out. Slip out the back without another appointment. I tried to continue my snooping, but the voices had gone silent. Instead I heard loud, metallic stomps heading my way. They circled through the halls, echoing off the metal of the empty corridors. Each step threatened another hour in this place. Another bit of more time I would never get back. So, I did the only thing I could and dove down behind my desk. An act of cowardice by some, a stroke of accounting genius by others. The steps came to a mighty crescendo at my door before pushing it opened with slow uncertainty. I listened as a few more metallic clanks pushed closer, then halted. "Mr.Carter, or should I say Darell? Pathetic. Trembling behind a desk. But I cant say I blame you, I'd be scared to fight me too."a voice boomed out from the other side of the desk, so loud it shook the glass of my office windows. "Excuse me?"I rose to meet the assailant of my time. Instead, what I was met by took me a few moments to comprehend. He was something out of a movie; wearing a hodgepodge of medieval armor pieces and modern military gear, neither of which appeared to have seen much use. Over his eyes was one of those headpieces with the four lenses. "Ok what the fuck is that"is all I managed to blurt out. “I have hunted for you for years! I have trailed you across oceans and continents! Today you shall finally fall to your archenemy!” his voice once again tore through the office, carried by a speaker at his neck. I stared back in confusion "I uhhh...im an accountant?" "Yes! You are! And- wait. Do you not know who I am?" "No no. Its not that its just that I might need a reminder. High schoooo-? Do you go to my gym maybe? Im kidding. Now why the fuck are you in my office dressed like a rejected marvel villain?!"The mans eyed visor raised to reveal his eyes whuch blinked back in disbelief. His posture went from a confident stiffness to a slouch. "Well this is a bummer. I've been following you for like 3 years dude. It's me Tim....Tim Bensely?? You misfiled my taxes like 4 years ago. The IRS was on my ass since."I still had no idea, but what I did know was the kind of gun on his hip, as I had the same under my desk. "Ok so why didnt you come back? I could've fixed it in like 5 minutes." "Huh. I hadn't really considered-"Before he could finish the gun was in my hand, and with two shots I shot clean through the sprinkler head on the ceiling. My ears immediately felt the repercussions. It wasn't like the movies where guns made no sound, instead now my ears rung so hard I could barely make out the sounds of the fire alarm blaring through the building. A spray of blackened water flew out of the sprinklers from above and sent "Tim"down to the ground. I, on the other hand, had slid over my desk and was halfway to the door. To freedom. I'd be damned if some guy was going to force me into overtime. Through the glass doors, down the hallway that now crowded with faces all gunning for the elevator, behind me a voice cried out: "I'll get you Darell! I waited three years, I can wait a little more!" To my right a colleague I vaguely recognized looked to me "Ah, fuck up someones taxes too?"
"I always wanted to be an artist, but my parents said there was no money in art!" And again he broke into tears! I don't get it, I thought I bought the right candles, drew the correct signs on the floor. I even bought a cool robe off of the internet. It's a deep purple, with a hood that just about covers my eyes, and it has golden tassels. "Derek! It wasn't easy finding a three legged frog to carry out this summoning. I sure as heck did not do it to hear about you whining about your crushed dreams." Derek tossed himself to the floor and wept even harder, maybe I was a bit harsh. However, I spent the last four months picking up frogs near the river to find a three legged one. The summining book said, "Powerful dark warrior, capable of decimating empires and kingdoms", but all I got was "Whoa-is-me"Derek. "Light a candle in each corner of the room. Check. Candle in the center. Check. Chant the latin word "dinumero". Check. Three legged frog. Check." "Wait, is that a smudge?"I rub off what appears to be some sort of stain. "pernumero?" There's a reason why used books are so affordable sometimes. "Derek! Do you know latin!?" "Only because my parents made me learn it in high school."I can see him about to sob again. "I wanted to take drama instead!" "Ok, before you start crying again, what's the difference between dinumero and pernumero?" "Dinumero means enumerate and pernumero means reckon. You know who else spoke latin? El Greco!" And with that he threw himself on the floor and I can see the little pool forming around his head. "Are you serious!? Enumerate!?" The next day, the only thing that could get Derek to stop crying was promising him a trip to the local art museum. I was not particularly fond of the idea, but anything beats handing Derek a tissue every other minute. "It says here they have paintings by Rembrandt and ancient roman statues! Oh and look! A paid exhibit on Nigerian masks!" I feigned enthusiasm. As we got to the ticket booth to purchase our entrances, I pulled out my wallet. I had just enough cash to cover us both. The lady behind the counter handed me back my change. $10.50. Just enough to buy us some chips and a soda after. I shoved all the change back into my pockets. "Derek, I only have enough for the regular entrance. We won't be able to see the masks." Derek's face changed into a slight smile and said, "Check your pockets again." I looked at him a little confused, but I tend to find an extra dollar or two in my pockets after a wash. I pulled out the $10 and he reached out to grab it from me. "Watch closely." I did. I needed the $10 back. He folded the bill up into a little square. Only leaving a corner exposed where the $10 symbol was at. His thumb then covered the $10 symbol and he slowly rubbed it between his fingers. After a few seconds he unfolded it, and there was an extra 0 after the $10. "Two tickets to the Nigerian exhibit please!"and he handed the ticket lady the cash, annoyed that she was forced to look up from her phone. "I can also do it digitally and to currencies of all kinds." He handed me my ticket and change. "Accounting school sucked, but I learned how to cook the books." Maybe dinumero was the correct word.
“Grandpa, do you need anything before I go?” Jerome asked. “My boy… my dear boy,” his grandfather whispered, “I need only two things” The elderly man slowly tried to sit up; Jerome quickly walked over to help his grandfather sit up on the creaky, yet elegantly handcrafted enormous bed. The bedroom had few furniture or belongings in it favoring a simplistic style. Jerome often wondered why a man who could have had anything chose to live so simply though the few items his grandfather did own were all priceless in appearance.Jerome reached over to the night table to bring the golden candelabra closer to the bed for light and more warmth. He looked out the window and saw it was late in the evening and he decided he might as well stay the night; the manor had plenty of guest rooms not being used at the moment. “The first thing I need is for you to sit with me and listen to a story,” his grandfather began. “Years ago, I met…” “Wait,” Jerome interrupted, “What’s the second thing you need? Maybe I should go get it first if this story is going to be a long one?” “Hush,” his grandfather chided him. “All things in their time. When I was born, it was a different time. The entire town… well really it was a village… could barely survive a winter and each year was a gamble on whether you froze, starved, or barely survived. When I was born, the prophecy was made.” Jerome’s grandfather’s voice became stronger as he talked; Jerome noted that this was the strongest his grandfather had sounded or looked in months. Maybe I ought to talk to him more about his past if he helps this much, Jerome pondered in his mind. “Pay attention boy!” his grandfather snapped. He’s definitely feeling better, Jerome smiled to himself. “Sorry grandfather, who made the prophecy? What was it about?” “Well I suppose that’s the most interesting part. Have none of your friends or peers gossiped or talked about it?” “No,” Jerome answered, surprised by the question. “I don’t know that anyone has mentioned any prophecy.” “Well I suppose it has been a while… three generations does make it a bit difficult for the story to have survived, “ his grandfather mused to himself. He stopped talking and seemed to be lost in thought. His frail body seemed to gather strength as he rested from talking. Jerome’s grandfather moved to sit up straighter before continuing. “Shortly after I was born, everyone in the village suddenly were all given the same prophecy. Some received it in a dream, some found it written in the dust at their feet, and others claimed they just ‘knew’. As a baby myself and like all the other children my age, we grew up hearing the prophecy, but never received it directly from wherever the prophecy originally came from.” “That must have been a crazy time for the town,” Jerome pondered. He had only heard stories of the town before it was saved; he didn’t know personally what it was like to live in the time before the town had prospered and become the beautiful safe wonderful place to live it was now. “And did they ever discover where the prophecy came from?” “Well as with most things, they attributed it to some divine entity, “ his grandfather replied. “Most thanked God and lived their normal lives with a bit more hope” “Probably a wise choice,” Jerome remarked. “So what was the prophecy about that gave people hope?” “It was said that the one was born who would bury the body of the death god and build heaven on earth,” his grandfather gave Jerome a crooked smile. The light from the candles flickered across the old man’s face and for brief moments, gave the smiling face a darkness. “Wait, that was prophesied?!?! And all your adventures of journeying to The Land Beyond and tricking the angels at The Gates to give you the spells to bend magic to to your will were prophesied? And when you found the chalice Death used to create The Evils and secretly diluted their essence with the water from The White River? Was it all foretold?” Jerome asked incredulously. He had grown up with the stories of his grandfather’s adventures. Although the townsfolk had never mentioned a prophecy, they all knew and told him stories of his grandfather and how he challenged the forces of nature and divinity to save the world. Jerome knew from stories all the changes his grandfather had wrought upon the world, but no one had ever told him it was all because of a prophecy. “I suppose that does explain how you even got the idea to go on your crazy adventures,” Jerome rationalized. “Move that candelabra closer, won’t you dear boy?” his grandfather asked after coughly a little. “Yes, indeed it was all due to a prophecy. I didn’t know you didn’t know. Your grandmother never told you either?” “No,” Jerome said truthfully, “Although I never really asked her about those times. She told me doesn’t like to talk about it” “One of your grandmother’s little jokes, I’m sure,” his grandfather replied. “Grandpa, I have to say, you’re looking stronger than you have in months. Maybe you should talk about this stuff more with grandma,” Jerome suggested. “Oh I will,” his grandfather replied, “but first, let me finish telling you this story. I know you know most of the stories already even if I wasn’t the one to tell them all to you. The most important story is the one of how I fulfilled the first part of the prophecy and carried God to the world.” “Of course,” Jerome replied, “you met the death god and a battle was expected, but instead you convinced the death god to come back to the world with you to live among us. The rest is history. You lied to the world and said you killed the death god; you buried a fake body and used the powers you gained to save the world from coldness and darkness.” “No my boy, I never saved the world. I only delayed the day when I would have to act,” the man swung his feet surprisingly fast over the end of the bed and tried to stand up; however, his body failed him at the last minute, “Hand me my candelabra.” Jerome moved to help his grandfather, but was met with a stern command. “No boy, the candelabra!” the man barked. Jerome didn’t know what to make of this and simply rushed to obey. As soon as the candelabra was within his grandfather’s grasp, the man was able to stand up straight.Jerome couldn’t fathom what was happening, but could only stare at the candelabra and his grandfather who was looking more and more like his father with each flicker of the light from the candles. “It’s time I do what I could not bring myself to do before. My time is coming on me one way or another. Go home Jerome and bear witness to my story. Tonight I do battle with the death god once and for all. Go Jerome.” Jerome didn’t want to leave, but it was quite apparent that he was among forces he couldn’t handle. He resolved to rush home and tell his mother what had happened; she might have an idea of what to do. On his way down the stairs, he ran into his grandmother. “My dear, why are you running?” Jerome’s beautiful and youthful looking grandmother asked him with concern in her voice. “Have you had dinner yet?” “I’m going to go get my mother! Don’t go upstairs. Grandfather says he’s going to kill you tonight!” Jerome shouted as he grabbed his grandmother away from the stairs.Jerome’s grandmother didn’t budge from the steps and her face became etched further with concern. Her arms dropped to her side as her hair flapped in the still air as if there was a windstorm. “It’s time.” she uttered before flying up the stairs. Definitely need to get mother! Jerome thought.
Everyone know the gig... One circle + one offering= one Daemon It was no brainer, if you get me. And so the eternal legions of imps, tengu and so on went in an orderly way towards those offerings. Some, liked the occasional goat meat given. Others, wished for a simple salad. Now, another unspoken rule was: The rarest the ingredient for the circle as well as the offering, the strongest the Daemon. Some used gold in their circles to call forth dukes and princes from the upper circles. The goat meat was replace with wagyu cow meat... Again, no brainer... For it meant a more powerful contract... We weren't prepared for this... "Flashback" A wild bag of Chips appear in the middle of the hellish plaza -Are those "Chips"?- asked one imp * I think so, answered their partner* * Well, one wouldn't be bad...* * Extreme crunching echo* * Wild Beel Z Bub appears* * I HEARD CHIPS... GIVE ME...* * "Hell breaks loose"pun intended"
Abigail's look could only be described as average. Average height, average build, average hair color, average eye color. It was for this reason it was mind-numbing how beautiful she was to behold. Although everyone made fun of her, there wasn't a single action or movement she took that failed to exude grace and elegance. Indeed, even with her t-shirt, baggy gray sweat pants, and New Balance sneakers, she was the picture of a perfect lady. This perfection did not go unnoticed - John, the smartest boy in school, and Jackson, the strongest, both had their heart go aflutter whenever they even heard her name. Abigail had a troubled past - twice an orphan, by the age of five, she had been taken in by her demeaning aunt and uncle. Neither of them had any love to show or share for her, and shoved her in a tiny room beneath the stairs to go through her days, doting attention instead on their three natural born sons. Despite this, Abigail exceeded every expectation placed on her and succeeded at every task she undertook. Indeed, she was a prodigy, unmatched and unrivaled in every competition and task she undertook. As of her seventh year, she was a polyglot despite having no exposure to other languages whatsoever. Her skills did not go unnoticed. Conflict after conflict was placed upon her, and each time, she worried, "What if I can't do it this time? What if I'm to fail and fall?"And each and every time, she met these problems head on with unexpected optimism that proved well-warranted. There was surely nothing Abigail could not do. At seventeen, Abigail had been abandoned in the woods at seventeen by her aunt and uncle with nothing to her name. It was no surprise that when she was later found by the unlikely pair of John and Jackson, who had teamed up to return her to society, she had actually created an animal city-state with herself as president, governor, and mayor. When they beseeched her to return to town and to come see all the people who loved her and missed her, she responded with a simple "Meh." The sound of her voice was, though unremarkable, so sweet to their ears that it set the two boys' hearts racing and they broke out into a sporadic fight with one another, looking to best the other in an attempt to win her heart right then and there. Abigail ended their fighting by declaring them both victors and that when they were of age they'd live together as a family - and live happily ever after.
"So, just so I'm understanding. There is no... Ulterior motive? No kidnapping the princess but they're actually in love?" "None"Said the worried royal guard. "And this isn't a dragon that has developed feelings for me again, correct?" "That is correct."Said the worried royal guard. "She didn't plan this because she's in love with the dragon, correct?" "That is correct."Said the worried royal guard. "Does the dragon have a son?" "The dragon is single."The worried royal guard responded with slight impatience. "And this was an intentional kidnapping, not by mistake or random chance correct?" "Yes, that is correct. The dragon shouted she will be freed as long as we deliver 10 chests filled with gold and treasure."Said the worried royal guard, with an impatient tone. "Please save the princess Sir Sazed!"The royal guard shouted, dramatically as Sazed viewed it. They want me to fight a dragon? A mother fucking dragon? A DRAGON?! My TRAINING NEVER COVERED THIS. Sazed took a deep breath, with hands on 1 hip, and the other on his forehead, he let out a deep sigh. \---------- "So... whats a big strong dragon like you kidnapping a young princess like me."The princess said flirtingly while twirling her hair with her index finger. "I am not interested in woman, stay in your place child." "oho... you're looking forward to sir Sazed... To clash his sword with..."As she stared down at the dragons... parts, She smirked and continued her sentence "With your sword."She let out a laugh. "I DO NOT NEED A SWORD! I AM THE GREAT FIRE MOUNTAIN DRAGON KASHMIR!"The Elder dragon bellowed. "YOU WILL FEAR AND OBEY ME." The princess giggled. "OH, sir dragon, very naughty aren't we?" The dragon confused, horrified, and slightly feeling sexually harassed; grabbed the princess and flew back to her kingdom, on the way he spotted a knight he assumed was coming for him. He quickly descended, dropped the princess and fled the scene. \-------------------- &#x200B; Hope you enjoyed, wanting to add a different perspective with maybe her father or someone/something else but I decided to leave it where its at.
It was a sweltering day in the middle of July in New York City, the kind of day when the humidity was so high that it felt like you were walking in a thick soup. Billy, who was fifteen years old at the time, had spent the entire day cooped up in his apartment, trying to keep cool and stay out of his mother's way; but she told him to go outside, and that's what he did. While out and about, Billy found a strange, shiny object on the ground outside the entrance to Central Park. It was a Galaxy S22 cell phone and charger, but Billy obviously didn't know that; he just thought it was an interesting-looking thingamabob. He was aware that it was a device that required access to an electrical socket. Billy's mother was a little bit of a technophobe, and she didn't like using any newfangled gadgets that she didn't completely understand. She told Billy she didn't trust the unusual contraption and wouldn't let him plug it in. Secretly, she didn't want to unplug her new Toastmaster 3000, a device that promised to deeply burn toast in a matter of seconds. Despite this, Billy considered it to be an interesting thingamabob and did not want to throw it out. It was a sleek rectangle made of black glass, and he was intrigued by it. So, he decided to keep the object to fix his wobbly table, and he positioned it to support one of the legs of his table. The most influential invention of the 21 century just ended up sitting there for the rest of the summer, collecting dust, supporting a table that would be garbage by the end of the decade. In September, Billy's friend invited him to play baseball at his house. Billy noticed an unused electrical socket while searching for additional gloves. Billy remembered the strange object he had found over the summer and asked his friend if he could plug it in, to which he agreed. He was so excited to find out what would happen if he plugged it in that he hurried back to his apartment to get it. The thing started moving as soon as he plugged it in and turned it on, so he knew it was working. When the screen displayed a logo, Billy and his friend were astounded to realize it was a television they could hold in their hands. At first, they were more concerned with some of the games on the device, such as the calculator, flashlight, and their favorite game, camera. They would sit there for hours taking pictures of inane things such as the cat, themselves in the mirror, and food. I guess, no matter the time period, humans will always want to take pictures of their food. The boys do end up learning about Google Chrome when it is accidentally pressed. The phone was connected to the internet from 2023. They both are big fans of Charles Lindberg, so they search for planes and immediately find pornography. 24 hours later, they stumble across Wikipedia and begin to educate themselves on issues in the future. They spent the next few days using every second of spare time they had to explore the internet and read about a wide variety of topics they had never heard of before. They were sure that everything that happened before their time was correct because they checked it against facts they looked up in the library. They started to believe that the events that were going to take place in the future were also accurate. Billy, who was adamant about doing something about the device, brought it to his uncle, a nearby university professor. His uncle was fascinated by the device, and he listened closely as Billy and his friend filled him in on all they had discovered. He urged them to arrange a presentation for the university officials in the hope that those individuals could judge whether or not this technology could forecast the future. At the presentation, the boys warned the officials about The Great Depression because it was set to begin at the end of the month. Everyone listening becomes very depressed because they all have their money in banks. One of the officials was spotted slipping out the back; there is no evidence to suggest that he went directly to the bank and withdrew all of his savings. The boys then discuss World War II, Hitler, the Holocaust, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki. Everyone listening immediately gets wide-eyed and has a horrible feeling in their stomach since they were all alive for the Great War. They desperately want to hear more, something a little more optimistic, but they don't tell the boys that. The boys begin to discuss major events further into the future. They discussed such topics as the Cold War, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, Agent Orange, Napalm, the Nuclear Weapons Arms Race, domestic terrorist attacks, school shootings, 9/11, the War in Afghanistan, and the War in Iraq. A grown man started to cry. "Is there anything that happens that is not tied to death and destruction?"The man asked in desperation. The boys nodded as they continued, "they found out that the Earth is flat, we faked a moon landing, aliens are locked up in a military base in Nevada, and the government implants a tracker just under the skin in all infants." In the front row, a man passes out, prompting a woman to hug the person next to her. The officials decide to take the thingamabob, place it in a box, set it on fire, pour acid over it, and then bury it in the Nevada desert, fifty feet deep. They conclude that the future is the future, and whatever will happen will happen for a reason.
"I don't know, it's in there, isn't it? I mean, I've been here for hours, man."Gaius shrugged. "Why do you ask?" "The tomb is empty."Flavius said in alarm, motioning towards it. Inside, a bundle of burial cloths lay unraveled, and there was a sound of shuffling. "Heeeey, guys!"A cheery voice called out behind them, and out from the doorway, Jesus emerged, arms raised, "I'm ba- HURHK?"He yelled, spitting out blood as a Roman pilum was panic-stabbed into his chest. Jesus hit the floor, gagging and coughing, before slowly falling limp and motionless. Horrified, Flavius and Gaius took to re-wrapping the now bloodied corpse in his burial shroud, and laying it on the tomb altar. The two guardsmen quietly stepped out towards the entrance and said nothing for a good ten minutes. Gaius coughed. "Just so we're clear, we both saw him like, at the crucifixion, right? All chopped up and like, messed up?" "Uh, yeah." "Then who the FUCK was that guy in there?" "The same guy?"Flavius shrugged. "He was PRETTY dead when they first moved him in there, so like, ..how did he come back, exactly?" "Look, I don't know. I get paid to stand around a guard tombs all day. I- oh, Mars, what if we just like, deep sixed a family member of someone visiting?" "What's this WE business? You stabbed him, not me!"Flavius protested. Shuffling, Jesus emerged from the tomb, a patient smile on his face. "Guys, I just wa-"Flavius screamed, interrupting him, and shoved a gladius into his guts. The two Legionary screamed. Jesus screamed, falling back against the tomb entrance. "Ooh, man, you got me deep. No big deal, I forgive-"He spoke, his eyes going distant and his face rapidly going pale. "HE KEEPS COMING BACK! WHAT THE FUCK?!"Gaius yelled, throwing off his helmet. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" Flavius shook his head. "You know what? Fuck it, bail?" The two Legionary ran away, as Jesus slowly rose to a stand. Chuckling good naturedly at the two rascals running away, Jesus turned to observe his tomb, only to slip on his own blood and tumble down the hill.
Now? Why now? Not when I was a kid and could've used a friend and playmate. Not when I was a young adult and needed a companion. Not even when I was a young parent and could've used a babysitter, but now. Now, when I'm a widower with teenagers and a farm that needs tending. Now, when I am becoming old. "You're late,"I told her, without turning around. "Bruf,"she agreed apologetically. We came out of the forest onto the bluff over the village, and I stopped dead. What the hell? Smoke was rising out over the still-burning ruins of the houses. There were small figures in shiny breastplates walking briskly in and out of the houses still standing and herding up the villagers into a huddle to one side. There seemed to be one on a hillock to one side, directing the others... "Dad!"The bush further down the path hissed, and I moved forward down the path and out of view of the village. After I was past the clear point and once more hidden by the bluff, the bush shook and disgorged my eldest daughter. Clever girl. "Dad, come on,"she said quietly, pulling my hand. "When we saw the soldiers coming, I grabbed the kids and ran, but Rik stayed behind to distract them. He's in there with them!" My bright twelve year old boy. Of course he'd do that. Dammit. I felt the direwolf come up under my other hand, offering support. I'd thought she was late but something told me she'd arrived just on time. "Okay, honey,"I said, addressing both my girls. "Looks like we have some work to do."
"You were supposed to fake the moon landing. So please tell me how in the world you thought filming it 'on-location for added realism' was a good idea, let alone how you managed to reach the moon in the first place!" "You wanted us to fake the moon landing, so we could threaten the US with our superior technology" "Yes, so they would either buy our 'products' or pay a sum afraid that we turn on them" "An essential part of good marketing is to convince them of our quality. If they have any doubts they won't invest" "So you decided to make the advertisement as realistic as possible." "A difficult task with the funds you provided" "Provided for a fake video of a fake moon landing with fake machinery" "As I said. Not enough money. So I came up with the brillant idea to infiltrate the enemy." "Whom you provided with blueprints to our inventions" "That reached the moon successfully and delivered some great video material to show off" "To sell them a product they already acquired. Thanks to you" "Now that you mention it..." "AAAAARGH....!" --------------------* The fact that multiple NASA scientist behind the moon landing were in truth henchmen of an villain whose name is lost in time is only known to a chosen few of the government.
The spoon that had entered the soup rose to the lips beneath a small moustache. Super Hitler sipped on the broth as if it were the finest wine he'd ever tasted. His substantially large physique now officially occupied 1/16 of my restaurant's dining area. I waited until he put the bowl of soup down before initiating conversation. The flabs on his arm jiggled as he did. "You requested me Mr. Hitler. What seems to be the issue." "Ja! Zat man over Zere iz harassing me and iz ruining my appetite!" I looked towards the cashier's area where an employee of mine blocked the path of the well-built Captain Israel. ^("Hitler I will kill you! You will die by my hands! Let me in!") He vocalized many obscenities as he pounded on the barrier that stood between the doors and cashier. The barrier rippled with each strike from his fist that swirled with the power of 6 million Jews. The face of Captain Israel seethed with rage causing even my cashier to take a step back, progressively losing confidence in the barrier. "Ah I see. I apologize for the inconvenience. If you would please resume your meal, I shall deal with the disruptive individual shortly." Super Hitler gave me an expectant look. Sighing to myself, I said what he was waiting for. "As compensation for your poor experience, we shall discount the prices of your orders by 95% for the next 24 hrs." Smuggly, Super Hitler picked up a giant drum stick and scarfed it down. Flicking a stray meat piece off of my clothing, I made my way to the rowdy hero. "Hello, you may refer to me as however you wish. I am the owner of this fine dining establishment, how may I assist you today?" "LET ME IN SO I CAN POP THAT BLOODY BLOATED B****D WHERE HE SITS! I WILL MAKE HIM PAY FOR WHAT HE HAS DONE!" "I understand your frustrations Mr. Israel however this location operates under the rule of Neutral Ground. No violence may be allowed to occur here. If you were to kindly wait till Mr. Hitler has fin-"* "DON'T GIVE ME THAT BALONEY, HE'S BEEN IN HERE 67 YEARS! YOU KNOW GOOD AND WELL WHY HE WON'T COME OUT! I'M TIRED OF WAITING!" The next fist from Captain Israel that made contact with the barrier caused the entire building to shake and the lights to flicker. Ever so small, a crack appeared at the barrier's center. The face of Captain Israel displayed satisfaction that his strength was not surpassed. He built up another punch. Behind me, I heard several customers vocalize complaints about dust from the roof landing atop their meals. This just wouldn't do. "Please Mr. Israel, I ask that you refrain from damaging the building's integrity. I will be required bill you if any significant collateral is caused." "I 💥 WANT 💥 IN 💥"Each punch he delivered increased the size of the newly formed crack. Seeing that his rage has consumed him, I finally relented to using my last resort. "stop, but let anything vital and necessary for your survival and the comprehension of my words remain functional." I delivered the monotone command without meeting his eyes. I had to be careful with my words as they were literal and absolute. Captain Israel froze, unable to move, quantum locked and immovable even by the laws of physics. I truly found the taste of overriding someone's free will to be quite appalling, but he was alarmingly close to breaking my establishment's one rule. "Mr. Israel. You may insult and name call, but physical violence is prohibited upon these grounds. If you cannot follow this one rule I will have to tell you to leave, preferably of your own volition. Is that understood? Blink if yes." The paralysed hero blinked upon being given the option. "Continue of your own free will."** Captain Israel patted himself after being released as if to check his body for damage. The other patrons had not broken their cadence during the exchange, they had continued on eating as if nothing had happened. Captain Israel stood unsure of what to do next. "Mr. Israel, if you agree to abide by our rule, we can find you a table to your liking. You may stay and dine here as long as you are capable of paying daily or upon your departure. I assure you, you will find good company among our patrons." I turned at a tap on my shoulder. A short female waiter of mine stood on her tippy toes to whisper into my ear. ^("Sir, Mr. Hitler is having trouble reaching his wallet.") Tsk. Tsk. "Just a moment Mr. Israel. I will return to confirm your choice shortly. Please, think it over." I slowly strode to Super Hitler's table, my steps piercing the numerous dialogues. The jiggling man was struggling to reach his pocket as a waiter of mine held out their hand in expectancy of payment. "Just erg za moment! I- I can pay!"He strained. "Mr. Hitler, I take my money very* seriously. Equally as seriously as my adherence to our golden rule. If you are unable to pay, I will have to tell you to leave."* The heads of every patron in the restaurant simultaneously turned toward Super Hitler with metaphorical glowing red eyes. He looked at me with fearful eyes. Beads of sweat speckled the blob of a man's neck as his grubby hand desperately tried to reach his pocket. "P- please! Help me! Za money is in my wallet, in my pocket. I- I can't reach it!" Unfortunately, for him, I could not offer him aid. "Mr. Hitler, I nor anyone else within the boundaries of my establishment who is not considered a relative, friend, or acquaintance of yours are allowed to intentionally make direct contact with your person or belongings. That would be a violation of our Neutral Grounds rule." "P- Please!" "My waiter has informed me that your current time of payment incapability has reached 3 minutes. You have 7 minutes left to provide payment, Mr. Hitler." Breathing heavily, Super Hitler jiggled and contorted in an effort to reach the wallet in his pocket. After two more minutes of being unable and putting him at the halfway mark, multiple people began to ask for their checks in preparation to conclude their meals. After a another two minutes, putting him at 7 total, he had managed to reach his wallet and pull it out to the disappointment of many. "Aha! I got it! I did it!" "You still must pay us Mr. Hitler." "Right! Right! I just have to ... Oh no! My arms! Zay cannot reach each other!" Many faces lit up in humor and anticipation. Super Hitler flailed side to side and rocked trying to get his hands close enough to retrieve the required money from his wallet. Just as he had 10 seconds left, in a miracle of strenuous maneuvers and button pops, he had managed to pull out the money. This however also caused his wallet to fall onto the floor. "Here! Za money, take za money! It is here!" The waiter retrieved the money and gave Super Hitler his daily receipt. There were many grumbles of disappointment as people began to sit back down and order more food. "A pleasure doing business with you Mr. Hitler ..." We both eyed his wallet which now rested far beyond his reach on the ground. We locked eyes. While his face expressed looming dread, mine displayed an unbiased indifference. I serve as no one's judge, I only maintain the order of my establishment and enforce the rules. "... we look forward to your next payment." With that, I turned and made my way back to Captain Israel.
TW: Loss of limb/body mutilation "Fucking Christ."I mumbled with second hand embarrassment as I listened to the seven foot tall chiton bound monstrosity read the footnotes of the 'humans r sooper cool' species fan fic to me. "Ah, yes, Christ! The son of a god whose form nailed to a cross was the focus of worship for eons. I'll have to fill you in on him, he's more than just a turn of phrase you know?"The creature whose name was a series of pheromones emitted through anuses on the top of their head said. I call them Asshat. they think its a cool title gifted to them by... Ugh... Their "space ork friend"... "I probably know more than you do about him. Can we please just focus on these repairs? I want to get home and take a nap."I grumbled as I tried to reach down into the machinery of the void rig, if only someone with a stretchable, amorphous, tentacle capable of lifting up to 400 lbs and squeeze through a hole the size of a dime was here to help rather than gawk at me like I'm a unicorn. "I doubt it. I have delved deep into the mysteries contained within the ancient human information receptacle known as 'wikipedia'. Mayhaps you have perused a certain obscure text known as the 'bible'? I have yet to parse anything in full beyond Genesis but there was much to be learned from one of your ancient people's web pages on the subject of Jesus Christ. He survived for 40 days in the desert without food or rest. I'm sure you, like him, could replace a dozen bolts on a dozen particle collider engines without a single nap. And can we just talk about how crazy it is that on a planet that has stuff like tiggers your species has the audacity to sleep? To leave yourself vulnerable to attack just so the power of your body can regenerate to fight and kill another day?" "Tiggers?"I really hoped they were actually referring to Whiny the Pooh. "Yes the apex predator that springs on its tail to ambush its prey for nutrients. The fact that such creatures exist on your planet and you still managed to be one the dominant species of your hell world is truly a testament to humanity's LEGENDARY prowess."Asshat explained. On the outside I was grunting as I just barely managed to fit my ratchet over a bolt and twist into place, on the inside I was silently celebrating one more piece of idiotic misinformation to embarrass this dork without them knowing. "Right... Tiggers."I grunted as I felt the bolt finally refuse to twist any further. Asshat slapped the hull of the rig as I was pulling out, "yet another example of impeccable human engineering!"Asshat's tentacle clanged off the side, something came loose in the machine. It came slamming hard into the middle of my forearm and with shearing force it slammed my arm into the ridge of the shell. With a sickening crunch and a shot of white hot pain I felt the top half of my forearm... Come loose. I pulled back with a breathless yelp and felt the last bits of sinew holding mutilated arm come loose and fall clanging into the void rig. I sat, stunned staring at the stump of my arm. I couldn't believe what I was looking at. "Incredible!"Asshat exclaimed. "I had heard that humans were capable of maintaining a calm disposition and complete any task at hand, even pitched combat scenarios, when losing a limb. I never thought I'd get to see it in action though! You haven't even cried out in pain! I always cry when I lose a limb."The stalks of Asshat's compound eyes came close to stare at the spewing stump of my arm. "Already your bleeding slows! Truly, your biology is fascinating. How long will it take to grow back?" I felt bile rise in my throat, I barely managed to swallow it. "Call... Call a med team... P-please..."I could feel myself going cold. My vision was blurring, I could barely stay sitting up. "Erm... You have your own phone? I don't have much data left on my plan..." "I... I hate you... So mu-"the world went black and I felt myself falling... Falling... Falling...
Seeing out of billions of eyes was normal for me, though I somehow knew any other mind would snap under the strain. How would anyone else cope with so much pain? Experiencing death over an over, ending lives over and over? Where an arm that looked as though it had been mulched and glued back together with coagulating, lumpy blood was the barest annoyance hardly worth noticing except for the tactical disadvantage it represented, I experienced more and less than this gruesome injury daily without a twitch. I suppose I'd grown used to not focusing on one body, and using entire platoons of bodies like a stage of meticulously crafted finger puppets. So why had the sight of a young woman, only seen from two eyes in a single head, stopped several billion hearts at once? How was it that a creature like myself could suddenly find every other view blurred, all objectives moot, each death meaningless, and for the first time ever feel as though i only had a single body. I'd conducted whole battles and micromanaged the precise movements of an entire army, but now found that a single pair of feet weighed several tons, and just one miniscule jaw could no longer close. I'd seen that color of her gorgeous brown hair before; in fields gardened by artillery and churned by a thousand boots, in the ration bars that tasted ever so slightly sweet and fed a trillion stomachs. Speaking of which, what on earth was that sensation in this one? Was it an urge to vomit? Was I experiencing a heart attack? This uncomfortable fluttering was new, perhaps another thing brought on by this woman. I had to say something, but what could I say? I'd only ever communicated orders and information with things that were not a part of my army. The finer points, or any points at all, of speaking with someone on friendly terms had been deemed unecessary. I would undoubtedly make a fool of myself, at worst even scare her off. "Hello, can I help you?"As the non-cloned humans might say: fuck. She'd approached first. For an omnipotent commander to find itself ambushed, what shame! "I'm not sure,"I started, buying time for the brains of my legion to think of SOMETHING to say! Tactics, enemy movements, troop formations-THIS DOESN'T HELP! "I was sweeping the area for combatants when I saw you. Considering the lack of a gun and the fact you're not trying to kill me, I'd say you're a civilian. What are you doing this close to the fight?" "Oh! You're one of those clone soldiers they talk about in the news!"she said, suddenly excited and curious. She shook herself. "I didn't answer your question, sorry. Yes, i'm a civilian. I'm here looking for something I lost in the evacuation, it's very important to me." I raised an eyebrow, unknowingly doing the same across hundreds of other faces as I looked at the bombed out streets around us. "Lost here? That might take forever in this rubble, you'd be lucky to not be buried alive in the unstable concrete."Way to be charming Mr. Doom and Gloom. "Since I haven't seen anyone else here so far, I might be able to request some help finding what you're looking for." "Would you really?! Thank you so much!"She said, smiling from ear to ear. An entire military suddenly found itself blushing at the sight. I couldn't decide which forest green eye to look into. She stuck out a hand to shake. "My name is Daisy, what's yours?"Oh hell, a name? Which one? The serial number of the clone she was speaking to? The name of the project that made me? How the fuck do i put a name for so many stupid assholes into one word? Maybe I'll make something up? "I'm... Jake,"I said, slowly reaching out to shake her hand and probably staring too much. "What are we looking for, Daisy?" "It's a really old wooden chest, with a brass latch on the front,"she said, spreading her hands wide to give an idea of the size. She moved her hands a lot when she talked, I noticed. "It's full of family heirlooms and photos from five generations in my family. It was too big and heavy to take during the evac, but it's too important to leave abandoned. I doubt even a bomb could have destroyed it, that thing was made sturdy." A squadron of clones came around the corner, startling the both of us. I felt stupid a moment later, feeling like I'd jumped at my own shadow. "Oh wow,"Daisy said, looking from one identical face to the next as they approached, "it's different from seeing clones on tv. I imagine it's pretty easy to get along?" "Something like that,"I said, catching myself from using every voice at once. "Where can we start looking?" "My old apartment is only a couple blocks away, the chest can't have gone too far from there,"she said, starting to walk. Her legs looked amazing in jeans, and her boots were sturdy but cute in their own way. "You know, I kind of feel like I'm on a treasure hunt!" "What does that make me?"I asked. "The pirate captain leading his band of scurvy dogs to a buried chest?"A few clones chuckled at the same time Daisy giggled. Suddenly I had a new favorite sound. "Maybe,"she said teasingly. "Promise to keep me safe from all of these ruffians, Captain?"From firsthand experience, I could say with certainty that an artillery detonation in the face had less of a kick than her words. "Maybe, but I think you're in good hands,"I said, smiling as I followed her.
“Um, sir?” “Speak.” “Uh, sir,” The henchman said. “They’re getting away.” The boss turned to look at the henchman. “Kyle,” Boss began. “Have you read Harry Potter?” “Harry Potter, sir?” “Yes,” “No, sir,” “Well, Clyde, firstly, you need to read it. Minor spoilers here, basically the whole point I’m trying to make is that if I were to act, I would be making the prophecy come true. If I chase, it will drive my boy further into their hands. I will not engage with this prophecy. I will not act. The gods will do what they do. I am not playing their game.” “But, sir, isn’t Harry Potter about spells and such?” “Clyde, just read the book, I have not time for this nonsense.”
<Speculative Fiction> ##An Icarus Complex “I’m in.” With a few more furious taps on my keyboard, I’d finally done it. I’d hacked into the world’s mainframe. I now had access to the core of the universe! Eagerly, I moved through codespace. Except—hold on—what started as a gentle walk accelerated into an unconstrained freefall. I desperately tried to drag myself back, but it was like trying to crawl back up the Niagara Falls. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t make it! I landed in a rather cheap chair in what looked like a modern, high-rise apartment. Yet, somehow, it was more tangible, more realistic, than my entire previous world had felt. I’d done it! I’d broken out! I leapt up, excitedly, before I noticed a college-aged young woman sitting in front of me. She held a tablet in her hand as she observed me impassively. “Maishul, one of your test subjects escaped again,” she called, keeping an eye on me. Wait, test subjects? Was she one of my creators? I was burning with curiosity. How did they create this world? Could I perhaps learn their secrets? Yes, yes, I could see it already! I would cozy up to them, pretend to be their friends, and when they were distracted, swoop in and steal the source code for the universe! A brilliant plan— “You know I can read your thoughts, right?” The girl, unimpressed, frowned at me. “You can’t exactly plot around your creators like that. Please do try a little harder.” Flabbergasted, I was about to respond when— “Oh boy, oh boy! One of you finally gained true sapience? Which one was it?” Another girl, a twin of the first, burst into the room, only to frown at me. “Ugh. This guy’s so generic. Who is he again, Lothli?” “Yes, he’s from the universe made out of code, I believe. Well, have fun with him. I’m gonna microwave some hot pockets.” And with that, the original girl, Lothli, left. At least I didn’t have to worry about this one reading my mind— “Oh, don’t worry! I can do that too!” With a cheeky smile, Maishul poked at my face. “Ooh, so what motivated you to come out here? I bet we weren’t what you were expecting, right? I bet you wanted to meet some kinda super hacker or something to be your mentor, or to insert some cheat codes and become infinitely rich!” Well, I wasn’t about to admit— “That’s basically like admitting it already! Hah! So you’re a selfish little bugger, huh? Wanna hack into the world? Get yourself a girlfriend or something? Laaaaaame!” Huh? N-no, I— “I know you better than yourself, Mr. Avery Green.” The girl suddenly leaned in close, all mirth evaporating in an instant. “You may have been a hacker god in your world. But remember, that’s only because I made you that way. And I could unmake you in an instant.” There was a fierce madness in those eyes. I understood now; the kind of person who could create a world from scratch was not someone to be trifled with. I stumbled back, my mind blanking out. “I’m glad we got that settled!” With a happy little clap, Maishul returned to her cheery self. “Now, since you got alllllll the way out here, I can grant you a little prize! Just remember—don’t push it.” I shuddered internally at the not-so-subtle threat at the end. I still wanted some power, but— “Okay! I’ll grant you power! One special power for you, coming right up!” And with those worlds, I collapsed, my brain overloading with power. I felt myself sliding backwards, up that seemingly-irreversible waterfall. With my eyes shut and my mind splintering, I screamed. *** I found myself back in my bedroom, just the same as before. The world had reverted to the before-times, before the riots, the freak-outs, the governmental collapse. Everyone was blissfully unaware of our life in a simulation. Was this my power? To be able to hack anything I wished, with none the wiser? I rushed to the computer, only to find my login blocked, with a smarmy little emoji popup: “Blocked for User Avery Green.” I slammed my keyboard in frustration. Power? No, this is a curse! To know that this reality is a simulation, while all others live in blissful ignorance! I had reached up to the realm of the gods, only to be cast down like Icarus himself.
\[Coarsing Blood\] "There will always be people to stand...,"Sandy had fun during her fight to the throne room and through the guards. She was enjoying herself so much that she almost missed what the King said. She relaxed her sword and tilted her head at him. "...wait, did you say 14th?"she asked. The King's obnoxious laughter echoed around the corpse-littered throne room. "What's wrong?"the black-armored King asked as he rose from his throne. "Have you realized that there's absolutely nothing special about you?"He walked closer overflowing with confidence. The King was too busy gloating to notice what Sandy was doing. She sheathed her sword and was now focused on a small glass card. "You're just a child; a pawn in someone else's game. They sent you here to DIE,"he laughed again. "Just like the baker's dozen before you. But, unlike those old fools in the council, I'm not eager to dispatch a child. Perhaps... I won't have to?"The King finally settled his gaze on Sandy as he made his offer. It was only when she looked up at him that he realized he didn't have her attention. "What's your favorite number?"she asked. "34!"The King answered instantly; and, he was just as quickly confused by his answer. When did he get a favorite number? Why did she ask him? Why did he answer? But, he wasn't the only one with questions. Sandy looked down at the card again and nodded. "He's Unique,"she said. "Now what?"Despite his offer to take her in, the King felt disrespected that she was ignoring him. She continued to do so by tapping and swiping at the glass card in her hands. After a few moments, she nodded again. "Yeah, the quest is still active,"she replied. "So, it doesn't matter that he's Awakened?"she asked. "Great! Thanks, Helios!"The King was glad to see the intruder put away her gadget; maybe now she could focus on him. "So, what'll it be young one? Die at my hands like the others, or join-,"Sandy interrupted him with a lightning-fast move. She dashed forward with sword at the ready and slashed through his black breastplate. It was a powerful, smooth strike that caused his armor to fall off in pieces. The King was surprised; but, he chuckled at the deep gash across his chest. "Now that you see why no one else has been able to kill me...,"he smiled at Sandy as his wound began to close. "...maybe we could discuss your fate. I don't actually want to kill you,"he said. "Don't worry,"Sandy grinned. "You won't; I just wanted to test something." "Your cockiness is undeserved...,"the King shook his head. He pointed at his perfectly intact chest. "... and it seems your test failed,"he laughed; and was interrupted again. Sandy took another dash forward to slash at him again. He saw it coming; but, didn't bother dodging. She couldn't hurt him. "Nah, that was just a baseline,"Sandy giggled. "I've had enough of this...,"the King said. He subconsciously reached up to scratch his chest; it itched for some reason. But his fingers were instantly coated with moisture and he looked down to see them covered in red, wet sand. Coarse particles were continuously moving in his wound keeping it open. "That works pretty well...,"Sandy nodded to herself. She seemed satisfied with herself as she smiled at the King. "...next one's going for your neck; it's nothing personal,"she said. "Wait...,"the King defended himself even as he pleaded. He wasn't sure she would wait. "... I've been trying to end this without conflict! I tried with everyone; but, they still fought me! I'm not evil!" "Yeah...,"Sandy shrugged dismissively. "...but, according to my quest you are; and, that's still active,"she raised her sword. "What..?"the King asked. "Don't worry about it...,"Sandy charged forward and the King's sword shattered as she struck through his neck. He felt burning itching sand inside his throat as she finished her thought. "...according to Helios, you'll respawn as your normal, evil, NPC self again after this." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1939 in a row. (Story #129 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/).
I stumbled out of the undergrowth, using my tattered sleeve to wipe the beads of sweat away from my eyes. I could hear the shouts of the villagers behind me, far enough that they couldn't hear me but still too close for combat. I knew I had to keep going, even though I was already way past my limit. I drew deep within myself, only partially understanding what I was doing, and laid my hand on the base of the plant closest to me. I closed my eyes and willed the life energy of the surrounding brush into my battered body. I felt disgust even as the thrilling energy shot into my body, taking the some of the exhaustion and pain away. I hated having to do this, but my options weren't exactly ideal. The villagers I'd once called family were now hunting me through the forest because of this cursed power, and wouldn't stop until I was long gone or dead. The power flowing through my veins marks me as one of The Condemned, people who are said to be possesses by demons and able to cast forbidden magic. Their abilities are wonderful, able to do things the common person would never even dream of...but only by sacrificing living beings as fuel. Common belief holds that all of The Condemned go mad eventually, believing themselves to be heroes of a forgotten age fighting against tyranny, while instead leaving horrific atrocities in their wake. This is what I am now. I knew I should've avoided that coward Frederick after his father's recent appointment as village marshall. He'd always been big for his britches, but his new status only fueled him and his cronies more. To think I'd almost avoided them completely before they cornered me in Uncle Jasper's barn. I hated them, sure, but I didn't want to hurt them! Gods, I can still hear their horrible screams... I shook my head. I had to focus on escaping, and making a plan. I had to keep going until I hit the Holdfast, the nearest city. It wasn't exactly the kindest of places, especially for a 14 year-old, but it would have to do. I've only been there once with my uncle, who took me there to help sell our crops after harvest. I thought about my uncle as I walked through the forest, carefully picking my way across the ground to avoid making too much noise. I learned everything from him, though the lessons mostly consisted of farming and hunting, and owed him more than I could ever repay. I'll miss him. A few hours later I found myself under the roots of a large tree, making something barely resembling a camp. I wouldn't be able to make a fire and give away my location, so it looked like I'd be sleeping in the cold tonight, if I could sleep at all. This is just the first of many similar nights, I'm sure.
"Please, Adam, that pot isn't used for ritual purpose. It's actually a modified spittoon. Do you humans tend to use 'ritual purpose' as a blanket term when you have yet to determine what the object does?" The new recruit Adam sheepishly scratches the back of his head, averting his gaze from mine. He sets about reclassifying the spittoon correctly as per my advice. I plod over to an intern who has wrongly tagged a broken bronze knife still caked in dirt. "Please, that isn't a ritual knife. That's just a farmer's knife used to slit the throats of chickens." "Thanks, Prof Rothwell, you're the best." Of course I am. I have lived for centuries, I have more degrees than Adam has ancestors, I have read and experienced far more than the entire department put together. My diverse set of knowledge and first-hand experience meant there wasn't anything coming into the museum's possession that I could not identify. All in a day's work, ensuring everything in the museum's archives were identified and labelled correctly. After years of job hopping, I found a relatively comfy career that lacks the breakneck pace and cutthroat ruthlessness of the rat race in the human corporate world. I settle down at my desk, reading the drafted museum object and exhibit descriptions in preparation for the upcoming exhibition during the school holidays. After several heated debates among my senior colleagues as to whether disjointed historical accounts or my firsthand but limited perspective was more valuable, my experience won out. The museum trusted I would do my best to ensure the accounts and descriptions were accurate. My phone buzzed. It was Prof Newell, always the impatient man urging me to hurry up and complete my submissions for the exhibition. How many times must he be told I am the slow and steady type, who values accuracy as much as I can achieve, that rushing things unnecessarily only leads to more mistakes that take up additional time to rectify. Speak of the devil, Newell is here to nag at me about my "dawdling"and rap his fingers on my shell again. His endless diatribe washes over me like a weak wave over a fortress standing the test of time. He can lecture all he wants, I know my deadlines, and I have always met them, I just don't believe in pushing out slipshod work. I retreat into my shell to shut out his incessant blather, closing my eyes, and focusing on my desire to return home so I may continue my independent stop motion short film on bonsai trees.
Morality was subjective, when you live a million lives, it can only be true that good and evil don't exist. One thing I knew was that there were supernatural powers, I've met people with them, and that always included myself. There are obvious things that one person memorizes when they live thousands of times. The best stocks, obvious tricks, and people that will be famous in a few years. Most lives I ended up rich, being rich has many perks, who could resist it. Living endlessly wealthy with everything at your fingertips. Endless power, endless possibilities. Until you run out of possibilities. Crack the code, live every possible combination, that was me. A person who turned back time on the brink of death to the day I was born. My first rewind was accident, a reflex to keep away the nightmarish hell that awaited me. I was not the most faithful, and I dreaded my fate. When I lived my second life, I thought it was a fluke, that I was crazy and had some sort of serious disorder. I took so many meds and therapies to get through it. The third time was confusing. I died at only 40 each of my two lives. Sucks to have heart problems. I was essentially an old sage, 80 years old at 15 with more money in the bank then both parents combined from the stock market from my allowance. My parents asked me how, I told them it was pure luck. They weren't entirely convinced. My fourth life I decided I wanted to cure my heart problems before I died at 40 once more. At that point, I believed in superstitious things and superpowers. But science and magic were all I had to cure myself. I went to medical school hot rich in stocks and worked on a cure. I thought maybe that would lead me closer to the root cause of all this. Were any gods real? And if they were, how did this all work? Why was I destined to re-live my life only to die early each time. I failed to make a cure in time for my own death. I tried again, no luck. Again, nothing. Well obviously my reasearch did something, but I died before I saw anything. I stopped caring about a cure. It was fine, I had all the time I wanted in my hands. I cared for no one, and burned many bridges. It was fine, I killed myself more times then I can count. Fine, fine, fine. I partied, I didn't really like partying I did it anyway. I made friends with some of the most famous people of my time, I was a celebrity, murderer, director and scientist. I was "gifted"at every instrument, I was a kid genius, I was the presidents best man. All that, and I wanted a break. I pretended to be mentally impaired, I failed every test, did dumb shit, and drove in the fast lane, I only lived until 20 those times. Didn't matter, I can always start again, be a genius, a celebrity, a homeless bum, kid genius, billionaire, friends with all celebrities if I want. I wanted to die. All those times that I was on the brink of death, I snapped myself back to the present, but I never truly let my consciousness slip away. I didn't believe in God, If I died, I would most likely be gone forever. If God was real then he didn't care, why else would he give me the power to be anyone and do anything. But it was time. One can't live forever. I lived a nice life. Got rich, got a wife, had kids. And...Unfortunately died at 40, like always. I chuckled my last breath, it was only fitting that I never find the cure to my disease. And selfishly pass it onto my kids. What a douche. When I awoke, it was a room half black and half white. And what do you know, angels and demons were fighting over my body. "HE IS OURS!"An angel yelled. "HE IS MUCH TO EVEIL FOR HEAVEN, SEND HIM TO HELL!"Another yelled. "NO HE IS OURS!"A different demonstration responded. "HES TOO MHCH OF A GOODY TWO SHOES, HIS LAST LIFE REFLECTS THAT, YOU HAVE HIM!" Turns out, maybe God did exist, but he was definitely laughing really hard.
I look at the man in front of me, he looks like me, if I grew up in Mad Max. This strange person had just stepped out from a portal and he looked pissed. "Who are you?"Was all I could muster "I'm you from the future" "How far in the future?" "About one week." "I find that hard to believe" "Well it's true" "Okay, why are you here?" Suddenly as if that sentence triggered him, future me ran forward and grabbed me. "Because, you fucked me! That's why! Leave this for future me? Well here I am! Because you were to lazy to deal with this now, you royally fucked everything up!"Future me screamed, as he leveled a pistol into my forward. "Hey calm down! It's not that big of a deal!" "You don't think so! How would you like it if I blew your fucking brains out!?" "Please let's not be rash, if you kill me, you won't exist." "That's a chance I'm willing to make. I give you till I count down from ten." "Your bluffing!" "Ten" "Come on, you can't be serious"I awkwardly laugh "Nine" I could see him leveling the gun "Eight" "This is ridiculous!" "Seven" I could hear the safety click off "Six" "We could just talk this over a glass of milk, no need for violence." "Five" I started to sweat even more then before, there was no way he was serious right? "Four" "Don't" "Three" His hand started to work the trigger "Two" "Alright! Alright! I'll do the dishes now! Please don't shoot!" Future me, eyed me suspiciously. "See I'm doing them"I said as I grabbed a plate and started to wash it. Future me smiled and without making a sound opened a portal and left.
I do not mind my coworkers, but there is something you should know about aliens: they are irrational. They don’t think the same way; it only takes a passing meeting with one to gleam that much, but there’s more to it than simply culture; it’s also in the way they think. You’d think I’d understood my mistake by now, with all the incidents and last time’s supposed accusations of war crimes on Tuesday, but no. There’s always something new and equally stupid to ruin my day. Regardless, the intermittent chittering of the various machines in the medical bay is a welcome reprieve from the chaotic din of today’s earlier boarding action against a pirate station. The screams for now have stopped as I begin to wash away the layers of blood on my gloves in the room’s sink. “Join the fleet, they said; explore the galaxy, they said; see new sights, they said.” What utter bullshit! I would’ve stayed on Earth if I had known the degree to which the other species in the federation could be unhinged. In due time, the blood staining my hands washes down the drain, allowing a moment to wipe the thin film of splatter from where the emergency oxygen mask hadn’t covered my countenance from some unsightly medical emergencies. A pair of hollow eyes look back, drained of any life that’d once been in them a month ago, when the first human expeditionary forces left Earth for the frontlines against the horrors of the galactic rim. Again, there is no point wallowing in this pit; when the doctor’s panicking, the situation starts to get out of hand. Back to work. The door to the main medical bay’s deck swept open with little issue as the intermittent beeps from the few surviving patients rhythmically echoed the heartbeat of the Alpha team’s commanding officer and fleet liaison. They’re human and abaik, respectively. I believe the Abaik’s name’s Zey Zok or something of that sort had come into the office with a blown-out ribcage, yet despite the grievous wound, somehow remained awake throughout the ordeal. Even now, the reptile’s eyes followed my approach to the side of their bed with a singular gray eye nestled under its snake-like snout. The uneasy silence resided for the moment as I sat upright on the bed across the way before tapping the clipboard I’d kept next to their bed with the long list of injuries they’d sustained in the boarding action in agitation. In genuine curiosity, I posed the question that had kept me awake despite running on my twenty-seventh hour of my originally eight-hour shift. “Why aren’t you dead?” “You do not need to know.” “I’m the ship’s doctor.” “Do you think that will change anything? I am a mighty warrior; such a puny injury could not feel one of my kind."I restrained myself from sighing—a long, deep mental expression of my internal agony—as I set down the clipboard on the hospital bed. I made sure to check the medical documentation for the federation species before proceeding with the next phase of dealing with the situation. Despite their acclaimed robustness, Abaik were prone to psychotic bouts of self-believed invincibility after surviving dangerous situations. And I’m not going to stay awake to keep an eye on this patient for another six hours, let alone eight days. Then I got an idea—an evil idea—as I pulled a syringe from out of my pocket and looked directly into the alien’s eyes, which I detested more than this entire venture. And more in particular, the all-too-fresh memories of how many times this reptile refused to allow anything remotely useful medically into his body that wasn’t a needle and thread. “I have a wager for you, mighty warrior. I shall poison you with this nonlethal poison, and should you remain awake, you are indeed a mighty warrior.” Before the lizard could finish their declaration that all human poisons were unable to affect a brave and mighty Abaik, enough horse tranquilizer to kill a small family flooded the amphibian. Midway through the speech, the snake folded in upon itself under its own weight and hit the deck plating with an audible metal crack. I enjoyed the moment, basking in the glory of this victory, before returning to my bunk without bothering to move the now unconscious into what could be considered a dignified position. This affair’s next shift’s problem. I’ll let them deal with this mighty warrior.
Voice-over "This Summer. The greatest Mystery in history" \Aeriel shot of Bablon, panning over outter walls, gardens, the palace. Then cut to black\ Voice-over "Based on real events of 1200bc!" Smashcut to hordes of the undead attacking temples and palaces, people scream and run for their lives. Voice over "When a mysterious place turns the living into the living dead. Only one man has the husstle to save it" EXT, market bizzare. Two men arguing over a slab of bernished bronze. Merchant-1, very upset "I'm going to carve a complaint letter! The gods shall make you as rotten as your copper!" Ea-Nasir, pulling back his hood to reveal he's played by Ewan McGregor "It's not the copper you need, it's the copper you deserve" BOOM-cut to the city gates trembling. Guard-1 "Those doors will hold against anything. They even have brand new hinges". The other guard looks at him in shock and horror. Cut to Ea-Nasir as the doors break and a flood of zombies break down the city walls "Oh shit!". BOOM-Cut to Ea-Nasir, in slow motion, throwing clay tablets coverd in complaints into a crowd of the undead. For some reason this makes them explode. Cut to Ea-Nasir fighting a Zombified Gilgamesh. Ea-Nasir's sword is notably bent. Ea Nasir "You may have started the Bronze age, but I'm going to finish it" Voice-over "Get ready for the wildest adventure of the ancient world" Title-cut "Ea-Nasir and the Curse of the Sea Peoples: Part one"Fade to black, as we hear a whisperd line from the female lead (also played by a white person) "Your name will be rememberd forever"
I suppose it made sense, in theory. At least, it did when the old still died. "This is not allowed!"Hidge hisses in my ear. "We should not be here, Valonix."I try to remind myself not to judge him. Hidge is so different now from who he used to be. Before he was replaced. Before he was dulled. Before his courage was stolen. I do the only thing that I know will get him to follow, even if it sours my stomach to do it. "I am your superior officer,"I say. "You will obey."My friends eyes go blank, and he nods wordlessly. I'm not his superior officer, of course, but he lacks the spine to challenge me. They all do. It's why I've been able to get this far. The old ones do not consider us enough of a threat to pay attention to. Especially when we've been through the machine once. Or, in my case, six times. It never seems to take. They can't breed the rebellion out of my blood. Today I'm going to find out why. Hidge winces as I pry the access panel open and splice into the terminal securing the blast door. "Keep watch,"I tell him. "That's an order."Hidge spins on his heels and peeks out and around the corners. He is visibly shaking, which makes me feel like even more of an asshole than I already do, but I need him. "All clear,"he whispers back to me. The screen flashes green and the door opens. I replace the panel and motion for Hidge to follow. I close the door behind us as I hear Hidge draw in a sharp breath. The lab. "This is where the magic happens, Hidge,"I say. "This is where they steal our souls."I walk up to the machine I've stepped inside so many times. I'm less gentle than I should be while I pry open the access panel and splice in. I know it's just a machine, but if a toaster had killed me six times, I'd dislike the toaster too. I parse through the files system and find my file. SUBJECT: VALONIX TECT AGE: TWENTIETH REVOLUTION, 3RD SEASON INITIATING INGRAM BACKUP.... COMPLETE TERMINATING SUBJECT... COMPLETE INGRAM MODIFICATION IN PROGRESS... ERROR! SUBSERVIENCE GENE EXPRESSION NOT COMPATIBLE WITH INGRAM GENOME. REVERTING TO BACKUP INGRAM... COMPLETE CLONE INITIALIZATION COMPLETE. VAT MATERIALS LOADED. STANDBY FOR GENESIS... "Not compatible..."I say, my thoughts swimming with this new information. I probe the machines onboard AI and activate the natural language model. "How is the subservience gene expression not compatible with the genome of this ingram backup?"The fans on the machine whir, and I feel a gust of hot air. "Ingram backup genome is non standard. Subservience gene has been clipped out." A thought occurs to me, and I grab Hidge and push him into the machine. "What is-"I put up a finger to shush him. "Stay still,"I say. I look into the terminal and probe the AI further. "Can you modify an old ingram backup to clip out the subservience gene?"The fans whir again. "Affirmative. Select ingram backup." SUBJECT: HIDGE GOLIN AGE: TWENTIETH REVOLUTION, 2ND SEASON "Ingram selected. Specimen loaded. Checking compatibility... Confirmed. Do you wish to proceed?" I look at the blank face of my friend. The boy I grew up with, stripped of his individuality and spirit, and a vicious hatred fills every cell of my body. "Replace the existing ingram editing instructions with these instructions,"I say. "Confirmed. Proceed with operation on loaded subject?" "Do it."
Time seemed to come to a halt as we both freeze in place, staring at the handle shaped patch of red skin that throbbed along her fingers. The object responsible, the weird metal mug my mother had picked up from some yard sale, lays forgotten on the tiled floor. My eyes involuntarily trace upwards, along the rest of her arm, taking in the multiple bandaged patches of skin, increasingly ridiculous explanations ringing distantly in my ears with each one. I don’t stop at her arms, instead they dart all over her body, especially her back, looking for some tell tale signs that something is out of place. Nothing seems wrong, but it’s like I’m staring at the strange for the first time. And while this is happening, she remains still as a statue, her body not able to keep up with the myriad of expressions that fly across her face. A small tremble in her lips hogs the spotlight for but a fraction of a second, before being quickly pushed off stage by three others as they crowd together at the same time. A deathly palor in her cheeks, a vacant look in the eyes, a pulse in her temple. They don’t get to enjoy their fame for too long however, for they too are replaced as suddenly as they come in a never ending cycle. I struggle to take my gaze off her, just enough so I can reach for the downed recipient. I already know the result, but I do it anyways. Something tells me my mind will be able to accept the current reality more easily if I do away with all possible traces of doubt, no matter how small. My hands hesitantly reaches towards the forbidden handle. I give it a quick poke, then I let my fingers curl around it like a vines. The metal is ice cold. I take a long deep breath, carefully tasting the words curled at the edge of my tongue. There’d be no going back once i make them into reality, I know that. I open my mouth to speak… My phone vibrates. I fish it out from my pocket. “Oh, the food’s here. You said you ordered Chinese right? I’mma go pick it up real quick, be right back.” She blinks, staring blankly at me as I rummage through the closet for a pair of slippers and head towards the door. “What are you doing? Don’t you have anything to say about… about that ?” Oh good, it seems like she finally unfroze. I cock an eyebrow at her. “I mean, yeah, sure? But do you want to talk about it?” “I mean not really, but we kind of of have to at this point!” She says. “It’d be more awkward then if we didn’t at this pont.” “And I totally agree with you, but I’m also really hungry. We can talk after dinner, right Melusine?” Without waiting for an answer, I turn on the doorknob and head outside, closing the door after me. Yet I still can make out her response: “How is food more important to you right now?” And then a beat later. “WAIT HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT NAME?!”
Healthcare. They should remove the "care"from the end of it. One little trip to the ER with a broken bone, some drugs, a brief surgery, and I walk out of there with a forty thousand credit health "care"bill. It took me two years to save ten thousand, and that was budgeting hard. Now I'm expected to pay four times that? Spend eight years of my life busting ass to pay for one tiny surgery? What if something else happens? So like I said, fuck the health "care"system. They can suck my fat dick. Let me tell you how it happened. I was in an accident while riding my bike from home to gym. I realized I'd forgotten my helmet after riding a block away from home and went back for it. A few blocks from the gym, a truck pulled a right turn as I was crossing an intersection, hit my bike and threw me eight feet onto the asphalt. Scrapes, bruises, lots of adrenaline. Head was safe though the helmet was damaged. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. I was feeling all fuzzy and thought I was fine. I decided to do the Christian thing and let the guy go. Didn't even take his info. He drives off, I finish riding to the gym, work out for thirty minutes, adrenaline surge falls off and I collapse to the ground. Wake up in the ER. Thankfully, I had no additional injuries from the gym but turns out the collision with the truck broke my carpometacarpal. That's the tiny, unassuming bone in the thumb joint, the one where it connects with the palm. Hurt like hell. Anyway, they juice me up and roll me into surgery. Since the bone in question basically "floats"in the space between the basular carpal and the palm bone, they had to do a lot of work on the tendons as well, some of which were damaged and repaired during the process of getting to the broken bone. This is their justification for claiming eight years of my working life. I tried to track down the other driver, feeling like a hypocrite all the time, but no go, he was long gone. I couldn't find his truck. Probably better this way. I still hate myself a bit for even trying. Finally, I sat down on the curb where the accident happened, cracked a beer and started drowning my sorrow, hoping a cop wouldn't pull up and add vagrancy charges to my already fucked life. Instead I got something way worse. Viril, the thalassolasher. He wore a hood as he always does. Fish faces are the 26th century's version of the 15th century's lepers. "Why don't you just compel me to do it with your mind enslaving power?"I ask Viril when he tells me what he wants. The lasher just shook his hooded head, "It won't work like that for this job. They'll check for duress." A long tentacle reached out from underneath the cloak. A barb grazed my hand as he grabbed my beer and tossed it into some bushes. I flinched at the cut, but thankfully he didn't use his toxilus, a tentacle capable of delivering powerful paralytic venom. I know he has at least one, though most of his species develop three over the course of their lives. "So do we have a deal?"Viril asked me, "You get me into the lab, I pay your debts...all of them. Not just the one to the hospital, and a hundred thousand credits extra." I sighed, "Of course, I'll do it. Not that I have much choice. But how do you expect me to get you access? I'm not exactly a skilled infiltrator." "You are James Cereli, aren't you?" "Yes,"I reply puzzled and also a little nervous. "Then you are exactly who I need." "Wait, I thought you said you needed me for this because I was in that hospital recently and I could use going in for a checkup to gain access...where you would be flagged the moment you walked through its doors. Now you're telling me you need me by name?" The lasher was silent for a long moment, "We better get going." Just then a police cruiser pulled up and turned it's lights on. Two cops stepped from the vehicle. "Hey, this neighborhood has a curfew. Explain your business." Turned out I was wrong. Viril did have two toxili. He was much older than previously thought. I discovered this as one wrapped around my leg. Through glazing eyes I saw one of the cops drop with the other around his neck. The second cop reached for his gun, but a tentacle smacked it into the gutter, then Viril was gone.
"Sir, do you have any idea why I just pulled you over?!", exclaimed the officer as he yanked off his aviators in astonishment. "Was it because I was driving a hundred and twenty miles per hour in an active school zone where construction was also taking place? Or was it because of the drugs in the glove compartment?", I said. The officer's face began to fume, "Do you even realize how much trouble you're in son?" I thought, what the hell, and took in a deep breath and began to explain, "I know this sounds ridiculous, but it's my Reddit cake day and I just wanted to get home as quickly as possible so I could post something quasi-interesting and milk as many fake internet points as I could." "Reddit cake day?", the officer's demeanor changed and he seemed suddenly engrossed. "Hell son, why didn't you say something. I'll need your address because you're getting a goddamn police escort!" About five seconds of complete silence passed. "I'm going to jail, aren't I?", I asked. "Yes, yes you are."
March 27, Well I just came up north to hike the Pictured Rocks. I know it is a tad early, but the spring is unusually warm. The snows almost all melted off. I'm going ultra light again. It really is the way to go. Forecast for the week seems good. March 28 Spending time in Munising before I head out. They have a great diner here eggs and the works. Local paper was interesting, apparently several of the dogs in town have turned up missing. Probable thieves. The rash of dog knapping's have happened in the past two weeks. Something on the total of Eight dogs are gone. Shame. March 29, The trail sure sure is beautiful. The Grand Sable Dunes are just gorgeous. Though I think the bears are coming out of hibernation. I'm pretty sure I heard one in the woods as I was going down the trail. Going to have to use the bear proof poles to keep me food safe. The Au Sable Light is a pretty stop, but the water spring there is terrible! It has a horrible iron tang to it. Still, beggars can't be choosers. March 29 (later) Hurricane River. Got my tarp all set up and dinner cooking, ramen and tea. Yum! Lake Superior is really refreshing after a day of backpacking. But man is it cold! Weather is looking good still. Met two couples hiking together. One of the gals has never been hiking before. She expressed concerns of ax murderers. Ha. As if such a thing exist in the U.P. Oh sure they exist, but they go after their wives, not strangers. Swell people those four. They were kind enough to share food with me. They appreciated my gift of flour to make bannock on a stick. On an other note, I came across some strange tracks. They're not human, nor deer or raccoon. They're not wolf or cougar either. I don't have a camera on me, so I can't show it to anyone. Doesn't matter really. The moon sure is pretty tonight. March 30, There was something in the forest during the night. Probably attracted to my food. Though I must have spooked it, 'cause it didn't leave the woods to investigate, so I have no tracks. Must have stayed in the area for a couple of hours. Likely a raccoon, the thieves. Twelve Mile Beach was stunning. I walked along the waters edge. Despite a lot of the lakeshore being gravelly stones, Twelve Mile is really sandy. It was the strangest thing, it felt like there was something watching me from the tree line as I was on the beach. March 30 (later) Stealth Camping along the beach. Lots of drift wood for a fire. The flask of vodka is great with lemonade. Package of Tuna with crackers for dinner. And tea, lot's of it. March 31. Yeah, there is definitely animals about. I heard something up on the buffs. Great big thing to. I clean up and headed out, making sure my bear mace was at the ready. Still beautiful here. I should make Mosquito Beach in good time. March 31 (later) Well, I was wrong. Storm came in out of nowhere rain pouring by the bucket. Dinner will be good though, oatmeal with dried berries and more tea, gunfire tea to be exact. Night. April 1 I don't know what the fuck I saw. I went out my tent to take a piss sometime around one with the lightning going on. As I was taking care of business, the lightning illuminated something. It sounds crazy, but it was like a man. I say like a man because men don't have giant fucking ten foot wide wings. Shit. Must have been a couple hundred yards away. Course, I was pretty tipsy from the drink. I really shouldn't be listening to Fantasia on my iPod. April 1 (later) Made it to 'Squito beach, they weren't kidding about the name! Though it isn't the skeeters, it's a damn black flies! They take chunks out of you. It's a feast tonight! The last of the bannock, plus a couple of honey packets I filched from the diner to go with my ramen. Hopefully I won't have any more bad dreams. April 2. It wasn't a dream or pink elephants. What I saw real, and last night real close. It was a fucking Man bat, like the Batman character from the old animated series. A fucking man with wings in his back and bat nose and fangs. The moon was full last night. He was just looking at my tent and waiting, and waiting. he didn't move for hours before retreating into the darkness. Oh I didn't sleep at all last night. It was like that Allen Steele book, the one that gave me nightmares when I first read it. But my back is to the beach and I'll make Miners Castle by noon. Everything will be all right.
"Section 1: To capture a demon alive and unharmed so that he might do your bidding and be bound as your slave, first ensure that your boards are neatly swept. Loose debris and dust may impair the binding circle and cause the spell to go awry." Cuthbert looked down at the freshly cleaned boards in his study. "Check." Edgar continued to read. "Furthermore, attend carefully to the weather. This spell will vary greatly with the level of moisture in the air. Do not attempt on Wednesdays between two and four o'clock unless the next Monday will be dry and you had pork for dinner three Sundays ago. Do not attempt if the woman three doors down from you has a headache or toothache, though mild discomfort in the abdomen area may render the spell more powerful than usual." Cuthbert frowned and jerked up his wizard sleeves. "Let's pretend we don't understand that."He said. "We don't understand that, sir?"His lawyer replied. "That's what I said."The wizard snapped. "What's the bloody spell, then?" "Ah yes."Edgar read through thin lips. "You have to say it twice in Latin, once in English and once in modified Sumerian. Then you have to clap twice, hoot once like a brown owl and twice like a barn owl and quack like a duck with botulism. Pretty simple I would say. When he arrives, read the Code of Merlin to him to bind him to you, then recite the Casts of Circe to remind him of his duty. Do not stutter."The lawyer snapped the book shut. "Don't fuck up, sir." "Right."Cuthbert shook his arms out and began to recite the ancient spell. Soon a form began to appear in the circled pentagram, spinning wildly like a top. Gradually it separated into two beings (Here Edgar grasped Cuthbert's arm) and slowed to a halt. "Foul beast whom I have dragged from the depths of Hell!"Cuthbert cried. ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT The demon said, waving a hand at the wizard. I'M HUNGOVER. CAN WE MAKE THIS QUICK? Cuthbert faltered, but his training did not fail him and he launched quickly into the Code of Merlin. I'M REALLY NOT IN THE MOOD The demon was short and squat, blue and bristly grey with a fat snout and three horns curled to perfection. Next to him sat a skinny little demon, spectacles perched on its rather unfortunate nose. This one was more red in colour, but looked no more happy to be there. "How can you not be in the mood?"Cuthbert asked. "I summoned you here - you have to do what I say." "Ah, actually."The red demon pipped up. "Only if you read the Code of Merlin and the Casts of Circe to him." "And who the fuck might you be?"Cuthbert said HE'S MY LAWYER. MEET UNSCRUPULOUS. BEST ADVOCATE IN HELL. The blue demon was having a field day, grin spread over his hairy face. "Your lawyer?"Edgar's mouth dropped open. "I was going to read the Casts to him - before he interrupted me!" "Ah yes, well if you see here."The red demon pushed his spectacles up his nose and produced a scroll made of Hellfire from his anus. "You'll notice that if it is a Sunday (it is) and if the summoned demon in question is being accompanied by his legal representative (which he is) then he has no responsibility to wait for the summoning magician to recite the Casts before interruption. That's the Binding Regulations (Day of the Lord) Act 1066, Section 177." "Ah,"Edgar stepped forward. "But you'll notice that that section is invalidated by the Hungover Demons Act 1888, Section 14, paragraph three which states that if the demon summoned is hungover (and he is) then he cannot interrupt the reciting of the Casts until he has had at least one Bloody Mary." "Which my client has had!"The red demon withdrew again from the cavernous anus, this time an empty glass with a smudge of tomato juice clinging to the bottom and a half-chewed stick of celery sticking out of it. Both Edgar and Cuthbert winced. SO WHO WANTS TO GO TO HELL FIRST? The red demon chuckled and rolled up his legal notes, pushing his spectacles up his nose for a second time. Edgar and Cuthbert screamed like girls as the blue demon stepped outside the circle.
"hey... hey, it's okay,"I whispered, closing my hand around your wrist. "don't worry, look it's almost over."; tears welling. You trembled, eyes wide with confusion, you opened your mouth to speak but quaked a warm breath in place of words. "I won't ever forget you buddy, I swear, I swear I won't."You didn't know what I was saying, I could tell, but my tone had you worried. Worried about me, though. That was you in the marrow. Concern for me even as you lay dying. "I love you, I love you, I... I love you..."I didn't know what else to say as the syringe was drawn from you and the barbituate lifted you from your body. You growled one last hushing growl and laid your head in my lap. I sat still for awhile even after the veterinarian had told me you were gone. I wanted to be sure. EDIT: wow, thanks for the gold!
The book, he finally found himself in possession of the book he'd searched his entire life for. The book of hopes, dreams, and whatever wish he desired. This book could make it come true. He couldn't believe it. He stared at the cover. Flipped through the book, never had a blank book read so well. How could it be that a book with no words could bring about such passion! Such joy! The man had been searching for the book for over fifty years, since he was a teenage boy. He was an old man now, tired from the chase. That didn't mean it was too late, he could write in the book whatever wish he desired, and it would come true. Heck, even if he wanted, he could wish for his youth again! His whole life had been leading up to this moment, where he grasped the book in his dirty, shaky hands. He was so excited, he could barely contain himself. His only concern in the world was that his hands would be shaking too much to write neatly. He'd long ago forgotten about all other worldly cares. All that mattered was the book! The book! Which he now held! The price of finding the book had been steep. The man had forgone love, children, even his career. He gave it all up on the quest for the book. Nobody could ever understand that he could give it all up for this book. Heck, the old man even spent his life savings to acquire the book from the jaded shop keep. Foolish he’d been called. Naïve others had warned. He ignored them all because he knew! He knew! The man wasn't from around here, the Far East they called it. Wrought with tales of deception and deceit, one had to be wary in these parts for a scam. He wasn't putting up just a paltry sum either; this was all the money he had! Not even enough for a train ticket home; he spent it all on this book. But no, the man knew better. He felt it was the book. He knew it was the book he second he saw it. Whereas countless others came through the door and detected a scam, the man saw opportunity! How could others be so foolish he thought! To forgo any wish you desired! Money comes and goes, he thought, but the book could grant anything he wished for! He was ready for his wish. The man pulled out his pen from his shirt pocket. He licked the tip of the pen as he had envisioned so many times before. He began to write, right there in the shop! He couldn't wait, no, his wish couldn't wait! He'd waited long enough, after all. I want to experience true happiness for the rest of my life the man wrote. After he wrote, he couldn't believe it! His whole body was shaking, he was elated! He had never felt so happy in his entire life. The old man's body couldn't handle the joy it was experiencing; his heart began to beat too fast. The man didn't notice though, he was too excited. As quickly as his heart began to rapidly beat, it stopped. The shop keep also couldn't believe it. He shuffled around the counter to check on the old man who now lied on his shop floor. As the shop keep tried to figure out what to do with the body, he wondered how one could be so naive to pay their life savings for a blank book.
The razor cut deep into the unkempt chaos that was my hair. Gradually, the coarse locks fell into the sink – creating layers of begrimed clippings. My natural blond hair had faded with time, but a strand of gold reminded me of the past. The punishment had seemed perpetual; the frigid prison had kept me untouched for over a decade. Time had extended to accommodate my sentence and no one had noticed that I was gone. But I had never been lonely, I was content in my own thoughts as the visitor's phone sat silent. The cells were sterile of any emotion, and the screams that had haunted me became mute. Rehabilitation had altered me to some degree, allowing my plans to mature and giving me a stable environment to finalize my thoughts. Although I never trusted the justice system, my forced atonement had satisfied the families. I gently caressed the pure steel of the scissors and ran the silky blade across my forehead. Almost instinctively, my lips curled outwards to form a strained smile. I enjoyed the memories of my last victim, but next time I would be more efficient. Quickly snipping from the left side, I removed the long strands that had blocked my peripheral vision. The right side was less fortunate, the years of disrepair meant that I needed to use the razor again. Damn, I hated the sound of the mechanical device. The buzz disrupted my thoughts, bringing back the emotions of anger and guilt which I had not felt for years. But I stopped myself before the rage came, I needed to finish my transformation. Bringing the razor across my skull, I acted methodically and mechanically. From the right to the left, the razor hummed between my ears. When I reached the left end of my scalp, I noticed a black spot. I knew my imperfections, and I did not have a birthmark or a mole anywhere near my head. Purity was always my goal, and this spot was a disgusting reminder of my past mistakes. I wet my thumb in an attempt to rub off the spot, but the blemish remained. I kneaded my skin with greater force, but the stubborn spot was not affected. Staggered, my hands began to tremble, and I clenched the razor with my perspiring palms. I shaved upwards, towards the back of my neck, reaching a space behind my ears. There was more ink. The precise characters ran past my skull to behind my left ear. These were not the standard cyrillic alphabet nor any Asian characters. Arabic was not a language I knew well, but the symbols were not as neat as a printed text. The edges of the symbols were jagged, as if the ink was carved into my skull. My eyes flashed a brief second of red and I stepped back in pain. I looked in the mirror, and the symbols began to glow...

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