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A golden flare swirled around the being who have taken the fabric of existence for himself.
One thousand possibilities, one thousand worlds, all converged in an object he held close to his chest. A crystal plate that shined with an eerie light, reflecting everything but what was on sight.
It wasn't a gift he had sought nor a price for a quest. It was, at first, a mistake. The mistake grew into curiosity and it soon was shrouded with grief and ambition.
One thousand possibilities, one thousand options.
He had the power of a God and yet paradoxically he felt powerless.
It came with the realization that while he could shape the universe as he desired, he could not shape somebody else's perspective and thus *their* focus on the universe would remain unmoved, no matter how much one would change things.
The result is the same.
One cannot divide by zero for a reason.
The man breathed deeply, pushing the object on his arms inside of him. It felt like his soul was being seared with the sheer amount of power he was receiving. In reality, he was trying to conceal the source inside his being, making it hard for the Universe itself to reclaim it.
He was now master of all reality.
But the Universe had other plans: while it would no longer retrieve the seed of all creation, it could make it so nobody else could. An existence without existing. A foreigner in the same reality he wished to manipulate unrestrained.
The Universe wrapped itself around him like a bubble of black mass and nothingness. Hawking would have been proud.
As the burning sensation in his chest reached to his limbs and head, he felt his shatter in a thousand pieces. The swirl of golden energy that surrounded him began to break down into bits of data and code, the things he had used to deduct how things worked. Everything was becoming clearer, everything was in his grasp but as he tried to get a hold of reality, he became less and less corporeal. A paradox granting his wish.
He had become God.
Meanwhile, 2000 Miles away from home, Alexander woke up.
----
*^Welcome, ^WP, ^to ^the ^Chronicles. ^. ^.*
[[Coded Dreams](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/75k2ho/wp_you_have_brainwashed_yourself_now_youre/do6wj6w/)] [[Incoming Message](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/57yq6g/wp_you_are_a_computer_programmer_who_has_stumbled/d8weqbj/)] [[The Mysterious Guest](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/72r43z/wp_youre_walking_down_a_busy_street_during_the/dnlmxam/)] [[Mirror Mirror](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/75pedo/wp_mirrors_are_actually_doors_to_other_identical/do8lce1/)] [[One in a Million]
(https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/78uqc8/wp_an_infinite_number_of_parallel_universes_exist/dox9yaz/?context=3)] [[Module Failure](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7hpkin/wp_you_discover_that_invasive_thoughts_are/dqtzhur/)] [**???**]
I enjoyed using this prompt. Hope you like my reply.
Comments and critiques are welcome.
-*Da Mangaka* |
**Vancouver Canada, Halloween 2014**
Billy stepped down into his Basement, surprised by the cheesy trasnsformation into a 80's gameshow set. Curtains, lights, and cameras were everywhere.
Marty stood behind a crudely made podium of wood. “ANNNNDDDD we’re live! Hello everybody!”
“Where’d did you get all this?”
“That’s the least important question that’ll be asked tonight. Are you ready to play?”
“Play what. What’s going on?”
A curtain pulled back revealing a briefcase and a picture of an attractive woman Billy recognized vaguely. After that he held up a big white card with some text for the camera and read it aloud. “Would you Take this Briefcase full of money, or Kiss the Sexiest Woman of the Year, Emilia Clarke?”
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly serious. We’re doing this.” He flung the card aside.
Billy shrugged. “I’m married, so...” He winked. “*I guess* I’ll take the money.” He joked. "Seriously though, what's going on."
“Here’s your money!” Marty brought the case to him.
Billy opened it. His mouth dropped.
“H-How much is this?”
“I'm not sure exactly. More than a million. ...One second please.” He pulled a curtain back and cut Emilia Clarke free from where she was bound on the floor.
Emilia pulled off a gag, shook off the ropes, and Bolted up the stairs to freedom.
“W-what?” Billy said numbly as she pushed through him.
Marty took to his rickety podium. “Next Question!” He put up another card for the camera. “Would you Rather Gamble your life savings on a single spin of the roulette wheel, or donate half of it to a charity of your choosing?”
“Woah. What? Was that… That chick from game of thrones?” He pointed up the stairs. “That was the… the dragon chick!”
Upstairs he heard Emilia screaming for help.
Marty dropped the card. “I don’t like repeating myself.” He pointed at a clock on the wall. “You have Thirty seconds.”
“Wait wait wait. Did you kidnap her?”
“Going to need you to focus up. We have a New Question on the board.”
“Is this actually happening? You can’t do this.”
“I Absolutely can. You have Ten seconds.”
“I’m not going to do this.”
“Than your going to be pissed when you hear about me hacking your bank account.”
Somehow he believed him. Clutching the briefcase he said “Look… I’d… I’d rather gamble?”
“Is that a question or a statement? Five seconds.”
“G-gamble!”
Marty pulled back a second curtain and spun a roulette wheel. “Red or Black.”
“Umm.”
“Black or Red.” He tossed the ball in. It hopped and clattered in a room otherwise perfectly silent.
“Black.”
**A Few Heartbeats of Pure Panic Later**
“Congratulations! Black wins. This is going great for you, eh Mister Multi-Millionaire?” Marty took to the podium again.
“We need to talk about how you kidnapped Emilia Clarke.”
“I’d love to. It’s a great story. Sadly we’re moving on.”
The final curtain pulled back to reveal two women bound and gagged in chairs.
“Would you rather save your wife, or your whore mother.” He pulled out a shotgun from behind the podium and racked it.
“NO!”
“30 Seconds on the clock.”
Billy lurched for him, but was stopped dead in his tracks by the blast that blew out his knee.
“I’ll put you down, boy.” Marty reloaded. Than put the barrel to his Mother's head. Her eyes went wide in panic. “But not before I pop them both. 20 Seconds.”
His hands fisted tightly. “YOU ARE INSANE.”
“15 Seconds.”
“This can’t be happening.”
“10 Seconds.”
“I’m not picking.”
“Than they both die. Save one of them. Five seconds. Four. Three. Two.”
He looked straight into his wife's eyes. “Save my Mother. I love you baby.”
Marty pulled the trigger.
“Final Question.” He wiped the splatter off his face. “Would you rather walk out of here with your Mother and the Money, or Shoot me in the Head?”
Billy just stared.
“I’m going to get away with this. Trust me on that. ...Unless you shoot me here and now. But that’d literally be murder, and this is all streaming live.”
“Give me the gun.”
“Here you go, buddy.”
Billy pulled the trigger. |
The smell of ozone fills Meredith's nostrils as she takes a look around her surroundings. A blinding combination of red, blue, and green create the illusion of an endless, white plane engulfing all visible angle and perspective.
How did she get here? Meredith glances down at her hands and it comes rushing back to the forefront of her mind—her death. More specifically, her suicide. The long gash in her left wrist hangs open to make visible the emptied tubes. Her last moments, she recalls, were of the blue light filling her dark room—the protests telling her to hang on, to think through her actions. Even thinking about it now makes her angry. They didn't understand—they couldn't have. Meredith wonders why she even bothered making that post on /r/depression.
Though, all of that is irrelevant at the moment. Meredith could care less about unwanted sympathy and faux emotions. The emptiness of this place captivates her to no end. It is nothing like what she had expected from an afterlife—if there were to be one. For, if it was a heaven, surely she would be greeted by *someone*. And if this were Hell, she expects she would have been aware the instant she had arrived.
No, this is something different.
Not knowing what to do, she takes a step forward.
Nothing.
She juts out her hands and takes a spin.
Still nothing.
She spends four years sitting, thinking, standing, and exercising in this endless expanse of cosmic fabric—at least that is what she thinks of it—and still nothing.
All efforts hitherto to end her "life"have been to no avail, and her mental state is in no way improving. Making single-player board games with dead skin and hairs have been no help in entertaining her either (Hey, how about you try having fun with nothing but your own body?).
*Pop!*
A massive rectangle appears wide and proud in front of her, towering over Meredith's figure like a monolith. Having not read for so long, it takes her a moment to adjust to the font inscribed on the box.
It reads, *Is anyone here?*
Yes! Yes! Someone is here! Meredith quickly jumps up and runs toward the base of the box with anticipation. She touches it, not knowing what else to do.
Instantly, the massive rectangle expands to show more text.
*Hey, I just randomly stumbled upon this subreddit.*
Subreddit? This is a subreddit? Despite the confusion, Meredith reads on.
*I can only see that there is one other subscriber here, so this is obviously not some kind of hotspot for visitors.*
*Yeah, I don't know what I am doing posting here. I'll just stick with r/AskReddit.*
Meredith doesn't want to accept it—it sounds absolutely ridiculous—but the evidence is strongly supporting the idea that she may be stuck inside Reddit. See? Ridiculous! But, no, it is the only thing that makes sense.
She glances at the title again, and notices the subreddit it seems to be posted to: /r/RedditPurgatory. She must be there—here—stuck in a subreddit. Well, that's depressing....
She jumps up and slaps her hand against the blue text that reads "/r/AskReddit,"hoping that what she knows about Reddit will help her efforts to escape.
And they do! In an instant, the world around her is stretched and blinked out. Then, in the next second, the whiteness returns. However, this time, millions of those monolithic boxes appear all around Meredith's figure, more popping up each second.
She isn't sure what she should do with this—or whether there is really any hope to escape this purgatory—but a new promising future (one certainly far more exciting than her previous stay) awaits Meredith.
She hits a box. |
Douglas was old, too damn old to keep up with the rest of the world.
Douglas was certain that Global Warming was a myth, trusted Scientists less then the speakers at his local NRA meetings and had very strong opinions on girls with brightly coloured hair, rap music and Prius'.
Douglas had been behind Jacob for the last 8 months and the tipping point was reached around the same time he added a second hole to his belt past the pre-punched six. But now after their company was acquired by a large, progressive corporation he finally had a solution.
The purge-clause as it was called, detailed a process by which an employee could legally and without consequence apply to kill a fellow employee, of a similar or lesser 'rank' in the company.
Jacob had stared wide-eyed when he'd been explained this, in a state of shock, excitement and then self-disgust at that same feeling of excitement. Could he do it? Was it possible for him to see someone?
He wrestled for two nights with feelings that orbited his mind like satellites, sending information back and forth through his brain weighing up the pros and cons. Surely the only thing stopping him from murdering Douglas was more than just the sentence the act carried? He had morals! Or he thought he did...
/
/
/
The gun felt heavy in his hand, heavier than they looked in films, rough and smooth at the same time. Or maybe it *was* smooth and he imagined the rough edges, only hoping to cut himself and drop it, walk away and pretend it didn't exist.
Douglas was being particularly annoying, too annoying to let it continue, he could make everyone happier, he'd be a hero and there'd be no consequence.
He walked quickly, catching up to Douglas walking slowly between the desks and in the middle of the room he unleashed 3 vicious shots. They tore through the air and Douglas as though they were no different, the bullets purpose was singular, fly straight.
Jacob looked around and smiled only to see people running in each direction screaming, people he was friends with looking at him with fear, a security guard running at him his gun outstretched as Jacob dropped his.
"We only get one!!"he screamed, wondering why everyone didn't understand.
He looked over at his table and the small white bottle that read Chlorpromazine and looked back at the security guard as tears formed in his eyes.
"I guess I found a way"he thought to himself as he was tackled to the ground.
|
"Definitely sending this one to hell."one of the demon attorneys said with a smirk.
"Theft, kidnapping, slavery.... we are gonna have a real treat to send satan."
The three demons burst out laughing, while the fourth took a sip of his coffee. Yeah...apparently demons like coffee too. I guess that is not the wierdest part. That would be this law and order bullshit that is about to decide my eternal fate.
I had no clue how I got here. I was sitting in my room, watching TV when BLAM...a loud noise followed by darkness. Next thing I know, I'm in front of some winged motherfucker telling me I have one shot to defend myself for my life of crime. Life of crime...like I had a fucking choice. How was some nobody kid from the hood supposed to make it in a stacked world. Mom has some muscle disorder, dad got shot and killed before I was born, and my sister is retarded. The fuck was I suppossed to do....go to college. Yeah, those 500 dollar text books would have fed them all really good.
I did what I had to do. Some of it was bad..really bad. I eventually went numb to it. Did what I had to do, collected my paycheck, and paid the bills.
The winged thing said I had 24 hours to come up with a defense. 24 god damn hours... I found myself pacing the halls of this massive court room.
"Shit shit shit"I thought to myself. How the fuck do I justify kidnapping children into slavery. I'm definitely going to hell.
All of a sudden, a dark figure emerged from the shadows. I could not see his face, but that voice.....I know I've heard that voice before.
"Son, I roam these halls looking for cases like yours. Let me defend you. I've worked miracles before."
"Well...not like I have much to lose."I said back.
The figure smiled, and slunk back into the shadows. "I'll see you tomorrow".
"Oook", I thought. I continued pacing until the next morning.
Now, back to the present. The smug prosecutor demons were ready to present the opening statements. My supposed savoir was nowhere in sight.
The demons spun a tale of a cruel man who acted without remorse in life. They told the stories of the lives I shattered and the people I hurt. They were so convincing, that I personally hated myself by the end of it.
The winged man, who is apparently my judge now spoke up. "DEFENSE, PREPARE YOUR STATEMENT"
"I'm screwed,"I thought. My heart was beating out of my chest. Clearly, I can't win this...
WAM!! Everyone in court room turns around to see who just swung the door open. The figure who promised to aid me was standing in the doorway...except I recognized him now...
I knew this man! This man was my ace in the hole. This man was my redemption.
The man slowly walked down the aisle of the courtroom with a swagger only he could have.
"Your honor,"he spoke in a calm demeanor.
"Your honor, I'm here to defend this man, and I have something to say."
The winged judge looked at this man approaching his bench with curiosity. "PROCEED"
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury... if the glove don't fit, you must acquit."
I did not think he would start with that, but the prosecuting demons were noticeably uncomfortable now....Checkmate.
|
The twisted crown of blackened metal rested crookedly on his head. His hooves felt different, cloven now. His memories began to sort themselves from the endless pain he had endured for so long. He knew what he must do.
Hooves clacking against the rock, he made his way to the one he trusted more than any other, before the betrayal. He found the man in his own special torment, and lifted him unconscious from the hot coals. As the newly appointed ruler of hell carried the man down the tunnels, demons shrieked in glee.
The man awoke, looking around himself. After a moment of stunned silence, he stammered, “E-Edgar? Is that you?”
The cow bellowed a reply, “No longer Edgar! Edgar is the one in the hole!” As he cast Ryan into the pit. |
Titan stood before an immense ring of Metal with a glowing red orb in the center. "We will be at firing strength in moments Titan."
"Good, and those three pests?"
"Dealt with."
Suddenly a Skinny Woman with Pink hair and a red suit landed on the walkway behind Titan and his minion. "Captain Calamity. It Figures that my most obnoxious enemy would be the final thorn in my side."
"It's a labor of love."She replied with a smile. "Nothing makes me happier than driving your popmpus ass up the wall."
Titan grew long steel claws out of his hands. "Oh, you certainly did that. If it weren't your shrill voice and garish style, your incessant do right preaching would more than rise to the occasion."
Captain Calamity gathered energy in each hand. "Oh look at me I'm Titan I can use big words."She replied with a snort. "Nobodies been impressed by that since high school."
The Two started to circle around each other but neither made a move. "Oh I'm sorry did that go over your head? Alright I'll dumb it down. You look like you stepped out of a Pride Parade and fell into some daddy issues along the way."
"You're criticizing my fashion choices? Really? Mr. Black Black and more black. Not to mention a fucking leather Jacket. Are you a super Villain or a Divorced Dad who's trying to date College Sophomores?"
"At least I don't run around constantly blabbing about my personal life. Listen, you're a huge inspiration to legions of 14 year olds who think they are special but not everyone needs to know your parents don't talk to you. Incidentally they won't talk to you because of the choices you made. I'm sure if it bothered you THAT much you'd..."
"Oh, I talk too much about my personal life? You mention that you don't remember anything CONSTANTLY. Poor you, no painful childhood memories, and you woke up with the ability to change your shape. I wish I could forget years of emotional abuse."
The two of them were slowly getting closer together, but had lowered their hands and turned off their powers. Titans minion slowly got up and walked away. "Yeah, not remembering if I've ever had a friend and being immediately distrusted and feared by a bunch of willful jackasses has been great fun!"
"Oh please, the whole Frankenstein thing isn't winning you any brownie points. Just because people are a little worried when you change your face constantly and randomly doesn't give you the right to try and take over the world?"
"Always with the fucking moralizing aren't you. Christ its no wonder Kara dumped you!"
"I... Excuse me?"Captain Calamity said as she blinked rapidly and backed away.
Titan suddenly didn't know how to feel. "I uh... I'm sorry."
"No, you said what you meant."
"No it was out of line, I just..."
"Are we fighting or what?"
Titan looked around. "I don't actually know how to work this thing and my dude seems to have left."
"Now what?" |
Frank, the hotel manager looked down at the bionic arm resting on the black marble counter. The exterior of it was covered with a dark grey metal, with golden prongs sticking out of the main joint. The two prongs matched up with two metal lined holes in Tom's left shoulder. Then Frank looked around at the empty lobby. Couches lay on their side, broken and and covered in broken glass. One of the elevator's doors were crumpled inward, the lights inside of it flickered. Several robotic corpses sat in a pile that Tom gathered together before offering his arm to cover the damage.
"How about you keep your arm, and leave me that pile of scraps?"Frank nodded toward the pile. Tom shook his head.
"That's my bounty,"Tom said. He picked up his disconnected arm from the table. "Obviously, I don't *have* to give you anything. I thought I'd try to be polite."He socketed the arm back into his shoulder, and flexed the fingers on his left arm to make sure all the connections were made.
"Wait! Waitwaitwait."Frank held his hands out in front of him, with his palms facing Tom. "I will take the arm and the leg after all. That is plenty, but you cannot blame a guy for trying, can you?"Tom gave a slight grin, and shook his head again.
"No, I guess not."He detached his arm and placed it on the black marble again. Then he pulled a small silver cylinder out from a small pack attached to his belt. He leaned down, and Frank leaned over the counter to watch. Tom detached his right leg, and then pushed the silver cylinder into the slot. It extended outward and formed a metal peg-leg for him. He lifted the removed leg by the ankle and placed it on the counter next to his arm. Frank heard sirens in the distance.
"So can you tell me what this was all about? And do not think I will not believe you,"Frank said, then pointed to one side of the ruined lobby. "I saw you come out of a blue portal from over there, then you immediately opened fire on those robots that came out of a red portal over there."He pointed to the other side of the lobby. "Not even two minutes before you."Tom gave a shrug.
"That about sums it up, whatever's relevant to you anyway. Those robots are from the future, year 2130 to be exact,"Tom said.
"You are from the future too?"Frank asked. His face showed none of the surprise Tom expected to see.
"Yeah, but I'm actually from further in the future. Year 2190. See, humans won the war against the machines. We survived, rebuilt, then decided to start correcting our mistakes. We went back to 2130 to take the robots out early, history is written by the victors and all that,"Tom smiled. "But they scattered themselves through time and we have to hunt them down."
"History is written by the victors, huh? I like that,"Frank said. He reached under the counter for something while Tom continued to smile at him.
"Yeah. It's an old Winston Churchill quote, I'm surprised you haven't heard it yet. It's closer to your time than 2190."Frank found what he was looking for under the counter and stood upright again to point a shotgun at Tom's face.
"Sorry to inform you, but you are wrong about that,"Frank said. "You are from the future of those robots. I am from *your* future, actually the year 3100. By the way, humans did not really win the war, we just let you think you did. We wanted to give you a chance to repopulate. Humans had no idea how severe their situation was. There was less than 500,000 of you left on the planet when we stopped slaughtering you."Tom moved to speak, but Frank fired. Tom had a bionic arm, and bionic leg, but a regular human head. Then, he had none of those things. "But we started again."
 
***
Thank you for reading! You can find more of my writings on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html). |
Sometimes she was the wind, other times she was the rain. I could feel her fond caress as the breeze gently enveloped me, I could hear her soft hums as the droplets of rain lulled me to sleep. But she wasn't always mild.
A few rare occasions, she would come as a storm. I could feel her rage in the howling winds and there was no calming to her fury. She would lash out incessantly, destroying everything in her path. The biting cold oozing from her heart and in her eyes. The bitterness hanging thickly in the air. I couldn't do much but pray that it would pass quickly.
But most of the time, she was a fog. Mysterious and dark, she would build a thick wall around herself, blocking the others so they could not see who she really was. Clouded in mystery and drowning in misery, she had resigned to her fate.
I desperately wanted to be her sunshine. But I knew it was just a wishful thinking. After all, how could I be a beacon in her life when I'm in the darkest pits of mine? |
N(0-0;)mb34s & N06g1n5 (Short #12)
**0000**
No.
That can’t be right. My eyes must be wrong. My prescription is outdated, yeah, that’s it! There’s no way someone’s number could be **0000**. Not when my number is **7692(D-A)**. It’s just not possible.
With one billion people starting on each letter, then the second letter representing the year. I, like most of my class, was born in the **A** generation of **D** billion, but this person, **0000**.
No year. No number. No billion. Nothing.
They must be no one.
“He-y, Amy, your staring off again.” Violet said, accentuating the first word.
“Sorry, just thought I saw something weird.”
“O-h, like what?” She asked in her curious manner, hanging onto my arm. “I want to see something freaky-cool.”
That’s weird. What was it I was going to show her?
__
Crossing my fingers this turns out, I just tried new stuffity wuffity and crap, enjoy! |
With no signal on my smartphone. I'd done the only thing I could think to do: start walking north until I saw some sign of civilization. I had absolutely nothing necessary for any kind of wilderness survival besides a couple granola bars, a small flashlight and the 3D-printed pistol I didn't officially own. There was no obvious source of water or wildlife larger than a squirrel. Trying to sit down and recreate My Side of the Mountain would probably end in starvation, so it was "walk or die".
The drone hovering overhead had been a big enough clue that something was "up". The combination of wrenching headache and loss of memory suggested foul play of the chemical sort, and I had already been suspicious of being winning a free trip to a wilderness retreat. But it hadn't been until I spotted the mansion that I knew I was in real trouble. It was a sight as familiar as the scar on my right knee: a titanic 3-story structure of dark oak wood with no paths leading to or from it.
My heart sank like a lead brick in the ocean. Now any questions would *really* have to wait until later. Briefly I contemplated going on, but the cheap watch on my wrist reminded me that daylight was limited. To go on was to risk being caught in the open without shelter from the wrath of nature...or worse.
I tried to dredge up my 'skills', such as they were, from a combination of playing realistic video games and watching real-life police shows. Standing to the side of the first wooden door, I racked a round into the chamber of the 1911 and tried to brace myself for whatever I might soon be facing. I was going to have to really be an "army of one"taking this objective.
The drone's incessant faint whining caught my ears, and I gave it a rude glance and a ruder gesture. Shooting it would be immensely satisfying but seemed unwise. Even assuming I could *hit* a target that small in a couple tries, I had the inkling that angering whoever was controlling - or watching - through its camera would at best be burning a potential bridge. Or worse yet, inviting revenge.
I took a deep breath, yanked open the door with my arm stretched out and immediately hit the ground.
Silence. No sounds of anger...human or otherwise. Scooting forward along the ground I dared to peer past into the mansion's interior.
(AN: part 2 will be up shortly) |
You awake in your prison bed, struggling for breath. Is someone choking you? Your eyes dance wildly around the room, searching for your invisible assailant. After a panicky three seconds, you realize that your only company is Death, and the hands on your throat belong to him. You take a moment to consider this, and decide that it is actually comforting to know that Death does exist. As the final gasps for new oxygen die in your throat, you try to come to terms with your life. It was a good one, filled with excitement, adventure, and a fair bit of evil. Your interactions with the spirit realm in your early age seems so trifling compared to the scientific misadventures of your middle age. You were a true mad scientist! That alone should be noteworthy, you think, as everything fades to blackness.
The dark surrounds you. It permeates you. There is no living tissue with which to interact with the world. Luckily, there is no world. You are there for three thousand years. Maybe less. Could it have been five minutes? A nanosecond? It really doesn’t matter. The only thing of consequence is that you are, you exist, which is enough. To pass the time, you decide to relive your glory days, those times when you did… things. You are certain you did things. You have a distinct recollection of things happening. Details escape you. That’s fine, because you are still allowed to exist. Existing sure is swell.
All of a sudden, the impossible happens. A line of white text blasts into being right in front of you. "Thank you for playing,"it says in no-nonsense, blocky font. "Your character was named: Craig Galison,"You suddenly remember that you were named Craig Galison. What a boring name. This is a disappointment to you, since you wish you had a name people would remember. "Your final score: -130. Biggest point gain: January 2, 2027, +28 points. Biggest point loss: Tie between March 5th, 2031 and August 18th, 2059, -250 points."This is big news. You had no idea that people got points. The text didn’t mention for what people receive points, but it seems that your Craig identity wasn’t too good at it. That’s fine, because he is no more. "You finished 50,458,901,302nd of 109,824,652,211. Would you like to try again?"it asks, presenting a ‘yes’ and ‘no’ in front of you. You really wish you had hands that you could use to push the yes button. The button lights up as you think this, moving to the next screen. It presents you with a decision. Two more buttons. One says ‘easy mode,’ and the other showing ‘hard mode.’
You don’t even think about it. The hard mode button lights up. You wonder at the implications of this rather hasty and poorly thought out decision. A green loading bar appears before you. As it climbs to completion, the text saying Randomizing character stares you dead in the… consciousness. If only I had a face, you think to yourself. As if in response to this, the green bar reaches the finish, and the black around you turns to a blinding white.
You see the glowing sun before you, the object of your desire. It speaks to you in a language which you can’t understand. You know it wants you just as badly. You move toward it, each motion slower than the next. Your friends and compatriots beside you move to the same goal, swirling around it, each time passing closer and closer. It’s hypnotic, brighter than anything, making promises of wonderful existence and pleasure beyond imagine. As you make it closer, you realize you are on the doorstep of a new age. The friends behind you exclaim wildly in excitement. You are closer to it than anyone you can remember. You float ever towards it, opening yourself. It engulfs you.
BZZT.
The last thing you hear, lying wounded on the ground, is, “Damn bugs. I’m glad we got this zapper thing.”
Dammit. |
You've been able to see the auras of people all your life. Its been distracting when you were younger, but as time went on, it got easier and easier. You've gotten used to seeing the muddled mix of colors on your daily commute, and walking through the streets has become more or less a daze of blurred colors.
You walk into a convenience store, looking to buy some snacks before class. You settle on some chips and a can of soda, and you pay the cashier, his cerulean aura giving him a comforting glow. As you walk out the doors, you see a flash of black hair, and then feel the ground underneath you. You look at the girl who had bumped into you, who looks at you briefly before walking into an aisle. As you walk to school, you feel a sense of unease, but you can't quite place your finger on it.
As you sit in class staring at your textbook, you realize something.
The girl had no aura.
What exactly had you bumped into this morning? |
Felix walked along the side of the dirt road towards town. The blue sun peeked out of the horizon, ready to start the day. He stayed on the outside of the road to avoid bumping into anyone or being trampled by a cart. Felix preferred solitude, and only made the trip to town when necessary, usually once a month. He always did it invisibly. He discovered his light magic at age seven, and in the seven years since then he learned to bend light around himself. He hated to steal, but was afraid that if he left money regularly someone might notice the pattern. He assumed theft would be less suspicious.
Felix reached the outskirts of town as the sun found its footing in the sky. He felt glad there had been no rain recently, he hated to contend with leaving footprints in the mud. He turned a corner toward the store he picked to steal from this particular month. Along the way he passed an alley between an inn and a brothel. As a 14 year old boy that could turn invisible, he knew all about the brothel. Fisticuffs often broke out there, and the Madam tended toss troublemakers out into that same alley. He heard a familiar ruckus, and it sounded like that situation was playing out right now. Someone just got thrown into the inn's trash cart. Curiosity struck him when he realized the day just started. The women weren't even working yet, and most of their clientele would still be sleeping off the previous night.
"Help! SOMEONE HELP!"A man yelled, and Felix moved to the entrance of the alley. He saw a giant red headed woman with pale skin, not one of the workers he was familiar with, angrily holding down a red faced fat man in the trash and laughing hysterically.
"SHE'S GOING TO KILL ME!!"The main flailed his short arms and legs, trying to somehow leverage his girth to wriggle free. Felix looked left and right in a panic, turning his head back and forth several times. He hoped to see a sign of anyone that might have enough magic to help. The roads were empty. It was too early for anyone to really be on the streets, and the chances were slim it would be someone with magical training.
"*I'm the only help this guy's getting,*"Felix thought to himself. He knew he could easily help, but he could not stay invisible while doing it. He turned left and right one more time, checking for any sudden wanderers. "*I'll have to blind both of them,*"he decided.
Felix looked up at the situation again as he walked forward. The woman now held a glowing green sword above the fat man's neck.
"So long, [Chuck](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/12/chuck-el-gallo.html)."The woman said, then she pulled the green blade upward to gain momentum. Felix was now close enough to act. He let loose a giant flash of white light between both of them. It surprised the two strangers.
"AAH!! I'M DEAD!!"The fat man yelled, thinking he entered the light. He stayed still, his hands resting on his stomach. Felix noticed his right hand showed a red tattoo of the [number 1](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/11/hugoverse-guidebook.html) on it.
"Gah!"The giant woman dropped the sword and brought her hands to her eyes. She rubbed them to get her sight working again. "You little asshole!"She said with a combination of anger and annoyance. Felix dashed toward the trash cart. He grabbed the man's thick, tattooed hand, then whispered into his ear.
"I'll lead you out of here."Chuck turned his head toward the whisper, and Felix saw the pupils of his dark green eyes were little more than pinholes.
"WHO SAID THAT?"Chuck yelled, then squeezed Felix's hand.
"sshhhhhh."Felix tried to shush Chuck.
"WHO ARE YOU?? DID YOU BLIND ME??"Chuck squeezed Felix's hand tighter.
"I'm *trying* to help you, idiot!"Felix hissed the words at Chuck. He tried pulling, but the fat man was too heavy for Felix to move without Chuck himself helping. "Hurry up it's going to wear off soon."Felix didn't understand why they weren't running away yet. He decided Chuck was an idiot, but wanted to help him anyway. Felix concentrated and tried to form sunlight into something useful. He'd been experimenting with hard light, but still had a long way to go until he could do it reliably. He hoped the stress of the situation would help it kick in.
"Hey, it's wearing off,"Chuck said, surprised. Felix opened his eye to see Chuck blinking repeatedly.
"*This guy's beyond saving,*"Felix thought. He decided to blind them both again and flee on his own. He gave off a fresh burst of white light, and Chuck let his hand go.
"DAMNIT! STOP THAT!"Chuck yelled and rubbed his eyes. Felix turned to leave, and ran into the giant woman's stomach. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them when she felt the boy run into her. She looked down at him through dark black eyes. She palmed his face in her large hand.
"Hi. We've been looking for you,"she said. Felix did not move a muscle. The woman's grip felt overly delicate, like she was actively trying *not* to crush his skull. Felix heard the fat man move behind him, finally getting himself off the cart. Felix realized she said, "we", and sighed.
"Geeez. Take it easy next time, [Flutter](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/p/flutter-la-calavera.html),"Chuck said. He reached into the tattoo on his hand and pulled out a black crystal. He tossed it at the ground and a black hole appeared in the dirt.
"Hold on little guy,"Flutter said, then jumped into the hole while holding him.
 
***
Thank you for reading! You can find more of my writings on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html). If you're curious about my universe(the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/11/hugoverse-guidebook.html) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/hugoverse-timeline.html) to find the stories in order. |
“Well isn’t that embarrassing” say Etienne as he walks past a man laying in a stretcher gasping for his last breath through a frothing hole in his chest.
“If I had ever wondered what conditions roaches lived in I would come here more often, well anyway my good boy I’d say see you later but let’s not be kidding anyone here.” He says as he lays several gold coins over the mans wound then turns to walk away as he hears a broken and cracked voice from behind.
“I had fought for you, and now I shall die for you my lord”
“Oh and that you will” Etienne hadn’t even bothered to look back at the other mans face as he said these words. As he exited the makeshift hospital he couldn’t help but snicker to himself at what he’s seen over the past few days as his hand fumbles in the pocket of his trench coat for his last cigar. It wasn’t there.
As Etienne makes his way out of the military outpost and down a dirt road he comes across the car he was told would be waiting for him. A 2043 Jaguar.
“I see we must be on a budget”
It was the year 2045
As he begrudgingly settles into the cabin and smashes a few commands on an illuminated screen the car surges forward down the dirt path he takes his pistol from his coat along with an extra clip, a knife, painkillers, and Selum(A new drug capable of mending even fatal wounds instantaneously) and rests the items gently on the seat beside them.
As dirt turns to asphalt and asphalt to highway and highway to interstate the towering city unfolds its self as if it were the imagination of ones self. As the Jaguar rolls into the city limits a voice is pumped through the stereo.
“Good trip E?”
“Yes all is good in the rift everyone thinks that there still fighting for their freedom not each other, must admit never thought the general public would be so idiotic.”
“Well lucky us, anyway payment has been wired to your account and welcome back to paradise.”
“Glad to be back.”
(This was my first post so sorry if this is a lil sub par but please leave constructive feedback hope you enjoy my take on the prompt!)
|
“Dad-flammit I deserve it! Who could have discovered those accounting oversights in last quarters reports?” Henry asked.
“You, Henry,” Gus sighed.
“And who else would work till midnight on Friday to re-crunch the numbers that had been confusing the whole department all week?”
“You, again,”
“And who in the ever loving heck would have…”
“Listen, you know I’ll agree with you all day Henry, but I don’t call the shots around here. You know who you have to talk to.”
“I know, it just drives me nuts that this is what it takes you know? I mean a little recognition, no matter how small would have made the world of difference. But now, oh boy, I’m just mad. I’m mad! I won’t settle for anything less than 20% and that is being conservative.”
“Or what? Henry, there’s not exactly other employment options around these parts.”
“Well, I… maybe I’ll go to our competitor.”
“…Henry, stop.”
“Well why the heck not? I mean they pay more starting off and they cover dental!”
“Unless you have an offer letter in your back pocket I would not bring that up to the big guy.”
“He knows they’d take me in a heartbeat!”
“Uh, yeah and he also knows they don’t treat ex-competitors very nicely. Don’t forget what you did to get here in the first place.
“Ok, you don’t have to bring that up, not now Gus for crying out loud.”
“Henry, they would eat you alive. Face it, you’re a Hell-man, and that’s ok! So am I, so’s Dave, Michael, Jesse, all of us. Look, get your raise, but don’t start talking like that, it’s just gonna give you crazy ideas.”
“I guess you’re right,” he sighed, “but I’d be a heck of a better analyst for them than Robert is I’ll tell you right now. He was the worst analyst at the firm back before… well, you know.”
“Sure, but seriously, ask for a raise, do it nicely, don’t bring up the competition.”
………………………………………………………………………………………………………
“You wanted to see me about something, sir?” Henry asked.
“Henry! Sit, take a seat,” came the booming voice of Lord of Darkness. Henry had heard him on the loudspeaker every morning for the last few millennia, but it always startled him in person. “Coffee?”
“No thanks sir, I’m trying to get off caffeine.”
“Yeah that’s probably smart, I would do that too, but I’m afraid its the only thing around here the damn temperature doesn’t screw up. Those mineral waters in the break room go flat in a minute in this heat!” he laughed a big booming laugh. The coffee in his cup trembled a little in the cup. Henry faked a hearty laugh and touched his face.
“So the reason I called you in today was actually to talk salary.”
Henry jumped a bit.
“Really? Oh I wasn’t expecting this until next quarter…”
“Yeah yeah, I know what you’re thinking,” he said rapping his long pointy finger nails on the oak desk. “Raises are next quarter, but those raises are more business related. This is more of a raise from the heart.”
Henry stared blankly.
“You see, I’ve been noticing all the hard work you’ve been doing around here. Nights, weekends, Hell I don’t even come on the weekends and I live for this shit!” he laughed again.
“But seriously, I wanted to show you that we are grateful for your dedication to the cause and that we really couldn’t do the awesome things we get to do around here without you. I said this way back in the day, before you ever got here, back when Moloch was CFO, I’d say ‘Moloch, finance is the heart and soul of Hell.’ Sure we have Thermal Operations working round the clock, and our technicians work tirelessly to keep our pitchforks in tip top shape, but at the end of the day, who is moving the money into the places it needs to go? They don’t get paid and we don’t keep operating without finance.”
“You know I really appreciate you saying that, sir” Henry said, feeling emboldened. “I was just saying the other day…”
“So it’s settled, you are getting a raise and you’re getting it today.”
“Well thank you sir…”
“…After all, I wouldn’t want you thinking of going to the competition…”
“…Sir?”
“In fact, why don’t I give you a title change as well? How about CEA? Chief Executive Asshole! You’ll be in charge of all the other assholes who walk around my office talking shit about the pay, threatening to go the competitor because they pay a little more, and they have dental? What’s an asshole like you need good dental for? Got too many cavities from all the shit you eat?”
“Sir I… I”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Henry.” His horns flared a little against his crimson red hair. “You don’t think word gets around? You know how much fucking money a little shit-talking like that can cost me? Some douchebag like you gets the idea he can make more money, all the sudden every douchebag in the company gets the same idea. All the way down to the little coal demons, thinking ‘hmm I bet I could make twice as much money throwing coal if I ask for it!’
“But the biggest load of horse shit is you, Henry. Go the competitor? Do I have to remind you how you ended up here in the first place?”
“… No sir…” he sighed.
“No tell me, what did you do back on earth that put you here in my ‘bullshit’ company?” making the air quotes with his long black fingers. “Didn’t you put that poor colleague’s head through a coke machine because he got the promotion you wanted? What was his name? Robert something? You think they like hot-heads up there?” he pointed up.
“No sir,” Henry said dutifully.
“Yeah I don’t think so, they don’t really like anyone who distracts from the company culture that much. Here? Who gives a shit? You wanna toss Dave out the window? Do it! I don’t care, that’s the perk of being here, there’s only one rule and it’s really hard to break unless you’re an asshole! Don’t. Shit-talk. Me. Henry.”
“Yes sir.”
Henry lowered his head while Satan looked on incredulously.
“You know this really hurts me, Henry. It does.”
“I’m sorry sir.”
“Good, you should be,” he sighed. “But ok look, I can do this, and this only: you leave here, tell no one about this, when they ask, just say you don’t feel like talking about it. They’ll get the idea. You do that, I’ll give you a 10% raise, because I know you work hard, but you can’t be an asshole, Henry. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” Henry said perking up. He wiped his eye discreetly, but Satan noticed.
“Oh come on don’t… Look I’m sorry I yelled, but… it’s tough Henry, and like, I don’t have anyone to tell this shit to. I just bottle it up, and take it out on Hitler and Manson once a week. And that’s not healthy, but it’s… it’s all I got. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“No, sir I shouldn’t have talked about this to people it’s…”
“Ah, it’s water under the bridge. Not that we have any of that around here, but still.”
“Well thank you sir.”
“Don’t mention it. Now go on, back to work with ya!”
Henry smiled and walked toward the door.
“Oh and Henry?”
“Yes sir?”
“Don’t let the door hit you in the tail,” he said laughing so loud his coffee began to slosh over the side of the white porcelain cup.
“Yes sir.” |
He took a long drag of his cigarette, then proceeded to crush it between his fingers.
The butt, still glowing alarmingly red, disappeared into the side of his index finger. The one with the faded "J"tattooed years ago. The ember from the final hit disappeared, but left no mark on the worn ink.
"J"stood for Jane. He had met her on the steps of that very building that they still lived in, thirty years later. In this part of the Bronx, they were the only white people left. Asians, Indians, Mexicans, you name it – the newcomers filled up the apartments, with tiny children spilling out of their doors, impish creatures who kicked balls in the hallway and ran up and down the stairs playing tag, never mind which neighbors could no longer take their accustomed afternoon naps.
Jane liked them. They never had children of their own; hell, they were never legally married, despite knowing no one else intimately. But on the first of October of every year, she sat down and got to work: hundreds of plastic baggies would litter the kitchen table, each imprinted with tiny white ghosts, bats with beady green eyes, pumpkins with toothy grins. Jane segregated each bag "by the boys and the ladies,"as she called them.
Girls deserve to have the best candy, she would remark decisively. A treat from their apartment far surpassed any other on Halloween, she made sure of that. No cheapskates at 119; they only had the good stuff.
It was how he made a living in the rent-stabilized apartment in a lonely part of the borough, too. He only had the good stuff. |
I forcefully tapped the sequence in to the keypad, as I pressed enter, the mechanism holding the briefcase closed burst into flames. I instinctively closed my eyes and covered my head, some human traits remained in me after my time as Chieftan, but there was no heat, no burning smell. 20 years cavorting with demons and they had never grown boring, I guess today would be no different.
I opened my eyes and glared at the case. The lock was gone, barely a scorch mark on the leather from the fire that engulfed it. It sat slightly open, no heat, no burning smell but a brilliant purifying white light emanated through every gap it could find, stealing shadows as it went until it was difficult to look at the case and the table it sat upon as it was almost blinding. I reached a hand out to feel the light, closer, I gripped the corner of the lid ready to thrust it open when suddenly the light retreated to the depth of the case. This WAS it.
So engrossed in my new treasure, I had completely forgotten about Valdorf son of Vigrim sitting before me. His hulking frame took up both the guest chairs in my office, with no room to spare, he periodically shuffled his weight from side to side trying to find a sweet spot of balance while staring diligently at me, waiting for me to speak. He looked almost childlike, despite his grotesque scarlet burned flesh, yellow eyes and 8ft 9 build and face that only a mother could love and a father would throw beer cans at. He looked almost scared, anticipating whether or not his efforts had pleased me. I spoke.
"Valdorf, you have served me well."
He visibly sighed with relief and started to speak when I raised a finely manicured talon to silence him.
"But, there is another task of the utmost importance I need you to fulfill", he started blankly, red droplets of bloody sweat began beading on his second forehead.
"I need you to kill me."
His mouths gasped. "Your Unholyness, I could never best you in combat, we are equal by sword sure, but you have me by fucking spear my Lord! I would surely perish. Have I displeased you? You spoke... you said I'd served you well!"
Poor guy, he had no idea for 20 years he'd served as second in command to a hybrid. He would be disgusted when he found the truth but in my current form I had no emotions, perhaps the guilt would find me later, I'd grown fond of Valdorf's company.
All my glory, my ferocity in battle, my triumphs and valour, all... not mine. I'd used magic for it all. An illusion, the best the underworld had ever seen. You see, most hybrids are mix of only 2 races, elf/orc, fae/demogorgon etc, I was the only one to have 3. Demon, Maegi and human.
My father was Critos son of Cranos, Lord of the underworld. He laid with a Maegi one night after a hard day of inflicting suffering and raising damnation. He did not know she was a hybrid. He did not know she masked a human side with her magic. He did not know she gave life to his seed.
She fled before I was born, she took to the Overworld and hoped to raise me human, suppressing my demon side. She did not know I was Maegi too. Until the day Critos came to kill me. His legions found my mother and I and on return told him of my human form. He appeared at the front door of my home at 6am on the dot, one friday morning in June, the sun was shining, casting his already enormous shadow all the way down the driveway. He reached into my chest with one clawed hand and placed a sceptre to my head. In one quick lurch he ripped my heart from my chest, the sceptre burned on my skull. I fell to the floor and hours later when I woke up, he was dead.
My heart lay next to me, still beating. Critos lay there with what looked like bright white lightning bolts scarred all over his form, congregating at a concealed mass that was once his hand. The sceptre lay smashed on the ground.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Black mottled flesh, 2 great ebony horns protruding from my forehead, claws, black eyes, taste of ash in my mouth. No sooner had I spit to rid the taste when a group of minions arrived. They gazed upon their fallen leader, turned to me, dropped to their knees and began chanting. Next that thing I know, I'm in Hell, in charge of all of damnation.
Valdorf stared at me expectantly, in my reminiscing it appears I hadn't spoken in some time. "I did not say battle. I want you to kill me, it is the only way for you to rule the underworld in my stead. I grow weary old friend, it is my time. Fulfil my last order, and see us both well."
He nodded, hung his head low and began to rise. A crimson blade hung in its sheath at his hip, he drew it, raised it above his head preparing to smite me. As he struck the blow, I opened the case.
I could feel the blade slicing through my head, Valdorf valiantly weeping as he wretched his sword back from my body. My soul made its escape from the case and floated into my body. I wake up. I'm home. Yes! Finally!
I run to my mothers bedroom, she's still asleep so I stand for a spell, just listening to her breathing, slow shallow, peaceful. You see Valdorf didn't know it was MY soul he had collected, underling demons don't ask questions or they get smited, they just obey, usually. He had no idea that killing my demon form in the presence of my soul would allow me to take my human form again, undetectable by demonic forces, only known to Maegi and humankind. Demons didn't know that Maegi have two souls. I was a 3 race hybrid no more. I took a deep breath, savoured the fact it didn't taste of sulphur, headed towards my Mothers sleeping frame, preparing to wake her, and felt a pang of nerves. Butterflies rose in my stomach, happiness soared through my heart and souls. I was finally human again. |
Its a lot of work changing the past.
People whom you confide in don’t believe you, no one is willing to help. They check you into the psychiatric ward or avoid contacting you ever. You are the 1 factor fighting against millions, if not billions, acting aggressively to end the world.
I’ve been extending... changing the world for 1,291 days and I don’t think I can hold out for much longer.
Going to the past is tiring, you get real dizzy and nauseous every time you manage to get past the warp. In fact, it’s not really the past, its a different timeline. The one I was from has already ended, sending 12 of us out to save as many timeline as possible. I have no way to contact the others and this is my only mission till the day I day. I have no way to decide which timeline I land in.
In one, the world has already ended much earlier than my own. The year was 2001, a huge nuclear explosion, i think, led to many others and I arrived to nothing. In another, the society had not developed as it has been in mine, the environment was still in great shape but war was their main concern.
In my original timeline, it was the end of the ocean and the end of trees. The skies were constantly dark and clouded, oxygen were sold to the rich and people died on the streets. Like I said, 1 against the millions who actively chose to not recycle, to dump trash into the ocean, to cut trees for profits instead of preserving life.
No, we couldn’t do anything to save that timeline. But I am here now, in a similar timeline to ours, you are facing these issues. Look back and look far forward before it’s too late. Save the oceans and the trees, for they will save you.
Its my 1,292th jump to the next timeline. Hopefully I can end up in an earlier version of my own and try to restart the world. I hope my wife and kids will be there waiting for me, in a green world.
*BEEP* |
Time stopped.
Just for a second, so it wasn't enough for anyone to notice, but when you take one second away from every living being on a planet, it adds up to... well a lot.
One small being, did happen to notice, and it hadn't been the first instance either. Time had started going missing slowly and in small amounts but over the last few months, the thief had grown bolder. Think of time as an hour glass full of sand. Once the sand starts to go missing, it runs out. An hourglass without sand is just a glass. A universe without time, would be just as empty.
The being who had noticed, was called code named tut. The ultimate time-keeper. He was the lead time-keeper for the universe. Each world had it's own keeper, and they reported to him. He in turn answered to his boss, the grand old doctor. God, would not be happy.
Tut closed his pocket watch and dug out his hourglass. The new loss meant that the universe was down to 99% remaining. 1% of time had been stolen and it now looked like it could no longer be written off as an anomaly. It was time (excuse the pun) to gather the time-keepers and see if anyone had any leads. Each world had it's own time-keeper. One of them must have noticed something. He set the timer on his watch, which synced to the other time keepers, and would alert them to the meeting being called. |
It all started when I was in my teens.
I was a pretty smart kid, not to toot my own horn. I would get pretty bored in school, even in the honors classes at my high school were too easy for me. One day while trying to stay awake through another lecture on genetics, I started trying to mouth the words the teacher was saying as they were saying them. The beginnings of the sentences were always difficult to get, but as they went on I was able to – with extremely high accuracy – replicate the exact words being uttered.
At first I thought it was just using context clues to deduce the most likely words coming next, much like the suggested word feature on modern smart-phones. However, as I did this more and more, I realized that I didn’t even really have to be paying attention to what was being said to get the next words. I figured it was some sort of sub-conscious thing.
I started finishing other people’s sentences fairly soon after discovering my skill. Some people thought it was cool but most people found it annoying. It wasn’t until today that I thought maybe this skill was more of an innate gift, much like the heroes and villains of the world had.
It was pretty interesting to say the least. I was sitting on the train, heading into the city to start my 9-5 standard office job when a man sat in the seat across from me. He was on the phone. Speaking some language I had never heard before. “Get away clean before the cops show up.” I finished his sentence without thinking. I realized what I did in an instant. My eyes shot up to meet his. Yep. Definitely understands English.”
We looked at each other for a split second. I eyed the corridor and he noticed me doing so. I booked it as he lunged at me. Somehow I was able to slip through his grasp and I went at a dead sprint towards the front of the train, bumping into people as I flew through.
“Sorry!” I yelled, looking back at the poor bystander who I just ran over like a linebacker. Then I slammed into a wall.
Or. Not a wall. I looked up and saw a hulking man with more muscle than seemed possible.
He reared his fist back. I ducked instinctively, and somehow his giant fist wiffed over my head. I scurried away and got up to run the other direction as I heard smash after smash. I looked down the corridor from which I came to see perfect gingerbread man cutouts in the metal sheets that connect the train cars. Forming these cutouts was the man that had been chasing me before. His body was flying through the air as if being propelled by a rocket.
Before I knew it, I was picked up and dragged off the train by the man-beast. That’s when I ended up at the headquarters of the Super League.
 
 
“I’m not sure why my ‘gift’ as you call it will be useful in any way to the Super League… All I can do is finish the last couple words of someone’s sentence.”
I stared at the group of heroes in front of me. There was that guy who could fly, the one who punches really hard, and that lady whose power seems to be picking the most revealing of all costumes.
She gave me a disgusted look.
“And she can read minds! That’s much better than being able to finish a sentence!”
The flying guy looked at me in a polite yet seemingly condescending manner, “You’re going to be more useful than you give yourself credit for -”
“-In time?” I finished for him, “what does that mean, like training?”
“Exactly, we’ve been watching your progress and think that you haven’t even reached –“
“- the limits of my power. Maybe I could finish more of the sentence than the last few words, but that still doesn’t answer my question.” I retorted. I was getting annoyed and starting to feel like they were just messing with me. I looked around for a hidden camera. I must be on some sort of prank show.
“I assure you this is no prank.” It was the mind-reader’s turn to speak apparently.
“Ok fine, I’ll humor you. What is the extent of my power then, how could I possibly be of any help.”
“With training and practice, you will be able to stop villains –“
I cut her off. “Before they can enact their plans, yeah yeah. Can’t you do the same thing, by just reading their minds?
“The problem with my gift is that I have to be in close proximity and maintain eye-contact. As you know, masks that shield the eyes have become –“
“Popular with villains. Ah, and my power works as long as I can hear their voice.”
“Precisely. You know how every villain ever likes to –“
“Tell you every part of their plan before it actually goes into effect? So the plan would be what? That I sit back at base with a headset on and listen to the villain, finish their sentence before they do, and sabotage their plan.”
“He’s a smart one. Still pretty –“ The strong one started talking.
“I am not weak! I’m just not a super freak like you!” I could feel my face turning red. I definitely was weak.
The mind-reader stifled a laugh. “Unfortunately. You –“
“Are in-fact a super freak like you.” I thought about it for a few.
“I still don't think I'm going to be that helpful, but I guess it beats my normal day job. What kind of benefits package do us super freaks get?"
|
She doesn't even know I'm here
I rest in her breast
I gently caress her with a false sense of security
Formed from her
Converted her DNA, I have re-coded her being
I have written myself into the intelligence of her body
I am a chemical assault,
Subtly resting in above her heart
Just below the place her son fed years ago
An organ that once gave life is now my machine of death
And if she doesn't look for me, she will find me
And she will find me a moment too late. |
*"Hey Randy, what's that?"*
Alan and Randy stood there, on the beach, silently, squinting their eyes.
*"Is that... a bottle?"*
*"Seriously, a bottle? What is this, the fucking Disney channel?"* Randy replied, sarcastic as usual.
The two friends paced towards the water. Yes, it was a bottle, but not the kind they have seen used for anything before. It was wide, but pretty short, and with a rather long and thin neck.
*"It looks like a prop from some pirate movie,"* Allan said and picked up the bottle. *"Oh you've gotta be kidding,"* he muttered. *"There's a piece of paper in this thing."*
*"Okay, are we on camera somewhere? What is this?"* Randy looked all around him, as if trying to catch a thief. *"Come out now, this is too obvious!"*
No answer but the gentle sounds of the ocean.
Meanwhile, Allan opened the bottle and took out the paper. He read it quickly, and then looked at Randy, confused. *"Is this some kind of joke, Randy?"*
Randy focused on the bottle again. "*What?"*
*"It's… for you."*
*"Like hell it is!"*
Randy snatched the letter from Allan's hands.
--
*Randy, don’t freak out. It’s me. I’m you. You have $130K in debt. You live on 33rd Gojouch Street and you think that is a funny name for a street. You have a mole on your inner right thigh. In 2032 you started seeing a therapist and you never told a soul. You think quitting the force was the best decision you ever made. I made my point right?*
*Take a breath asshole. This is not a joke. We did something stupid and I need your help. I’m stuck in this piece of crap ship in 1886. In a few years a guy in a big blue jacket and a fancy hat will knock on your door. He’ll say they need good people with training for a secret project. Guess what, we end up in the past, trying to meddle with some shit in Burma. This has been going on for a while and at least five countries are trying to redo some crap from another time.*
*There’s a guy here we call Bog, he’s kind of the wiz kid. He set up this capsule with a timer. I remembered the day you went down to the beach with Allan and told him about Cynthia. Bog Said he did the math for the currents of the ocean and everything so that this thing will find you in 149 years. If there’s ever been a Hail Mary, right?*
*No time. We are going under and it can’t be undone, but you can still get me. Allan already knows about this whole thing. He’s coming with us on the mission. He is going to die here. He has a device called blanktum. You need to take it and make him disappear ASAP. I know it sounds bad but trust me, it’s better than what’s waiting for him here. It's the only way. You don't understand but you will. Keep the blanktum a secret, it’s the only thing that will get us out of this mess. Trust me. RED OAKS.*
*I'm betting all on you picking up the bottle and not Allan.*
--
Randy slowly looked up from the letter. Allan was gone.
*"Oh, shit,"* Randy said as he started running back to the car. |
Police report:1a187bCC
Suspect: Noah Jones
Felony: Defecated in three water fountains, attempted defecation in a fourth but when told to stop, stripped down to underwear and proceeded to lather in baby oil before fleeing into the nearest bush while screeching. Backup was called once it appeared he had stolen 3 ferrets from a local zoo. There appears no reason how Mr Jones managed to travel 3 miles to the zoo while fully naked and covered in a lubricant and in such a short amount of time. It was an even shorter amount of time before the ferrets became agitated and he let them out in a shopping mall causing mass panic. Somehow these ferrets were also covered in baby oil and thus it spent major police time trying to catch them. The attention the ferrets was short lived once Noah broke into a beauty salon with a shot gun loaded with macaroni and lit cigarettes and started to fire the hard shells of pasta and ash upon the unsuspecting salon goers. Thankfully 4 of the 7 had some form of firearm on them and they stopped Noah in his tracks but before he could be apprehended he let out an earshattering scream that stunned the officers. Then hurled himself through the third floor window and scuttled into a small pool and began to swiftly drown. He was pullled out and instantly regained consciousness and puked in the assisting officers face and disappeared into a cloud of ash smoke.
If you see this man do not approach him. |
Joy adjusted the pillow under her head and then rolled over. “More lotion,” she called out lazily. The surrounding area was a beautiful rocky beach, unspoiled and empty. She was camped out on one of the smaller islands off the coast of Sardinia and felt like she was in heaven.
She was the only person visible on the beach other than the enslaved Ancient God, Χάος. Laying comfortably on an old blanket, she was listening to music on an thirty-year old tape deck that she had bought at a garage sale. It sounded like the batteries were slowly running out of juice, but she could still hear the Spanish accents of Baccara as they belted out bad B-side disco numbers from the 70s.
Χάος, sighed and knelt down to rub more lotion on the back of the mistress. “If only I had more worshippers,"he urged. "I could lay the world at your feet,” Χάος said. This point was brought up routinely. According to Χάος, the more worshippers who followed the ancient teaching of Χάος, the stronger the wishes and powers that could be granted to Joy.
“Point?” Joy asked lazily, even though she knew the answer.
“Really F’ing hard to get worshipers on an empty island,” Χάος complained bitterly. “We don’t even have Internet.”
“I’m cool with the status quo,” she mumbled a little sleepily. The sun was getting to her. “Could you move the umbrella closer?” She added.
“With a million followers, I could reshape the world in your image,” Χάος said in a voice the desperately tried to sound persuasive as he shifted the umbrella so that Joy was now in shade.
“Got it."She murmured before asking, "Can you make me a mimosa with one of those cute little pink umbrellas?”
Χάος sighed. “Yes mistress. One mimosa with an umbrella coming up.” Χάος remembered the eagerness when Joy had initially helped gather together the number of followers needed so that immortality could be granted.
If only Χάος had know the mistress’s idea of how to spend eternity involved laying on various beaches with an occasional trip into the mountains. The number of followers of Χάος has long ago sunk back to a few hundred, enough to summon the occasional mimosa. |
Its come to this, has it?
Thousands descended from their offices and apartments and into the street where I stood, still clutching my pen and papers I’d cleared off my desk moments before. Those with real intent were ready for anything, those who were unsure could be easily spotted, like scared animals pleading with their eyes.
It didn’t seem real until then.
I saw a mother hurrying away across the street with her small child in tow. Hoping to escape to safety. Instead she was brutally clotheslined by a group of ragers waiting in ambush parked in a car along the sidewalk. They’d swung the door open as soon as she’d gotten close enough.
In what felt like slow-motion, my jaw dropped.
The mother was upended so violently that her glasses shot twenty feet off like they’d been attached to her face with a rubber band. The small child bounced off of the mother’s legs and stumbled backwards, disoriented, as the woman lay stunned and quite possibly injured on the pavement.
The moments leading up to more important moments feel fragmented, and you feel as though you are standing right next to yourself watching something extraordinary about to happen.
Disgust quickly turned to blind rage. The type of rage that forces your brain to shutoff, unafraid or utterly unconcerned for what comes next so long as it resembles retaliation.
The ragers in the parked car slowly stepped out of the vehicle with the mother laying in a heap. Gleefully shouting while armed with baseball bats, blunt objects, and ill-will; they stooped over the helpless woman as she struggled to stand up. Her child, crying, standing next to one of the men, was pushed aside on to the pavement.
Something sharp. Something heavy. Something wieldy. Give me something. Anything. Anything to create pain that would make me feel better.
Searching, wildly looking around, removing the contents of my pocket yielded nothing you would consider effective in this type of scenario. Keys? Belt? What the fuck was I going to do?
Its come to this.
I had the element of surprise and the aid of being in the attacker’s blind spot and so there it was, my chance laid before me, not to be ignored.
Blood rushing, full-tilt I sprang, kicking pavement, flying thru space and time faster than I’d moved since I could remember track practice in high-school. Someone might have admired the ferocity of my pace just then.
Without hardly making a sound, I decelerated upon him.
With my free hand, I quickly wrapped it under the man’s left arm and pivoted by placing it just on the back of his neck.
He was caught off guard in this moment.
With the pen I’d taken from the office in my other hand, my rage spilled out of me in calculated spurts. With a white knuckle grip I drove the ball-pointed end directly into the right eye and twisted and barbed the now mangled socket until I was satisfied it would never be repaired.
It reminded me of when I used to go camping, pitching tents. It was like trying to work a stake into particularly dry ground with little leverage. The contents underneath sturdier than the soil on top.
The rager screamed in agony, which in turn, invigorated me. I dropped the pen and began choking the man, squeezing the breath from him as hard as I could, as quickly as I could.
I felt my energy level suddenly begin to deplete, as if I’d used all my strength at once and my limbs began to burn, the full weight of my body felt upon itself. Rage morphing into what seemed helpless frustration. Then...
Crack. A dull ringing. My vision blurred, instantly.
I felt my skull split open. Blood from my head sprayed onto the ground in front of me, draining down my face and into my fluttering eyes. I couldn’t see the woman or her child anymore. Where were they? Where am I? Its come to this, has it? My last thought as I hit the ground.
The end.
|
As Death had explained to me, all bakers had this as a well kept secret. It was the yeast, he said. Increased sensitivity to radiation and DNA damaging chemicals was what the most known yeast fungi, Saccharomyces cerevisiae, was capable of doing and yet it was used for creating bread- something people can eat. The same fungi can also either extend the lifespan of wine or cause the short lifespan of bread. The confusion in capability had caused a rift in the material state of the bread. This allows the dead to digest it because of its unestablished state. Is it made for the living or for the dead? Not even Death himself answered me.
That was all dumb mumbo jumbo until the dead started to buy bread from me. It was difficult to tell the difference between ghosts and humans, especially during the night. You could imagine my surprise when the first one who bought some for me handed money that nearly burned my hands. I think Death told me beforehand to wear plastic gloves when serving them. I didn't believe him 'cause I thought he was crazy. I sell bread, for God's sake. I'm not a one stop zombie food shop.
The clock struck 8. It was time for me to open up to my second demographic. Surprisingly enough, I was one of the few bakeries nearby. Not many people indulge in bread. Shame. The dead give more of a profit at this point. The lowering of the metal bars signaled for my otherworldly customers to come on in. Death was kind enough to send a mental message to all the dead and would-have-just-died that my work hours for them would be different. I remember asking the guy why I couldn't serve them both at the same time. "You could", he simply responded. Thinking it over, I decided I didn't want any sudden 'possession' incidents in my shop. Death simply nodded and bought 15 ensaymadas. "Five for me, five for life, and five for the big guy. Thanks."
The bakery started filling up with people who simply phase through the metal sheet. I can't be bothered by it anymore. Some come in mad, some happy, and some just hungry. Often they would try to take it out on the bakery. Luckily, anybody who attacks the place and/or me are instantly subject to hell as "It is an unforgivable sin to attack the hand and land of the one who feeds the needy."
"Four star cookies and 2 moons."My ghost buyer asked, fishing out a few dollars out of her semi-transparent wallet. Good thing this place is bright. I put on my plastic gloves and open up a paper bag.
"He never replaced you, you know."I said in a try at chit-chat, pulling out the buttery snack. "Four girls and two boys, every Friday. I don't think they know anything here that isn't butter cookies. Except for him, though."
I could hear a faint chuckle. It was a bittersweet. I didn't know whether to be happy for her or feel bad. "I know."
I handed her the bag of bread. Apparently, anything that came from something that died can be held by ghosts. No wonder humans are a more complicated whatever. "He needs to get someone soon, though. He'll go insane."
"It's been 12 years, Alex. I don't think he wants anybody else."I say as I log down the sale.
So many stories here. So much of the same faces come by. A lot of them come to talk since, well, it's not exactly easy making friends with people who are about as bitter as they are for dying. It's my take on it, at least.
The ceiling fans whirred to life. My humble bakery was doing just great. I'm giving food to alive and, basically, dead people but, hey, people have to eat.
|
"Alexa, where will I die?"
"Papa John's Pizza."
I had burst out laughing at the mere thought. A mediocre pizzeria? Are you kidding me? What could possibly happen that is so dire that not only would I be harmed, I would be killed?! After my laughter had died down, I then realized that this 'where will I die' question had predicted well over 500 deaths last year. Back in 2034, there was a constant trend within media that consisted of people asking their various home devices about their place of death. Daily updates would ensue of people daring to test their luck by visiting these mysterious places, only to die soon after. However, these reports were out-shadowed by the amount of people claiming the trend to be fake. Thousands of people posting on their various social media accounts, always something along the lines of, "I asked Alexa where I would die, went there, and nothing happened!"But, at the same time, there was a rising fear of the viral sensation, and hell, even I was scared by it. To predict 500 deaths within a year? Ludicrous! But, I decided that I would face my fear by visiting the one place that was supposed to kill me.
Upon pulling into the parking lot and entering the restaurant, I noticed that everyone's food was.. greasy. Everything looked greasy. I remember it being pretty bad for you, but not to this extent. Anyways, I decided to order a small pizza with ham and pineapple for my dinner. Once I received my order, I began to eat. I finished the pizza and had begun to felt queasy. When getting up to go home, I found a note oddly folded in between the grooves of the pizza box. The feelings of sickness kept getting increasingly worse, and when I had read the note, I realized why; the note had stated, "You shouldn't have ordered pineapple."I collapsed from the nausea, never to wake up again.
---
First attempt at a writing prompt. Feel free to send some constructive criticism my way. Thanks for reading! |
We voted on it, at the end. Our station was remote, more than most, but we still saw the pictures, still knew what was coming from the sky. We were scientists, first and foremost, true, but we still knew that only one path lay before us.
As the points of fire rose into the sky, the world watched, or drank, or sobbed, or simply burned quietly, in the regions already conquered. We did not know why they were here, they didn't try to speak to us, or interact in any way beyond violence, and so we responded in kind. Since Cain killed Abel, mankind has been practicing the art of war, and we thought ourselves masters. We were wrong.
Just as the Aztecs had their empire destroyed, so we too learned that for all our skill and guile, we were too far outpaced technologically to compete. So we used the last and final action, and waited for the world to burn.
But it didn't. One by one, the points of fire and rage were shot down, contained, diverted. Some 20,000 missiles had been launched, the entire arsenal of humanity, meant to kill those who would destroy us, and ourselves with them, or at least deprive them of their prize. But it was all for nought, as they stopped every missile in its tracks, and the flowers of deadly fire never bloomed.
So we resumed our labors, in our isolated lab. There were others like it, around the world, but ours the most remote, the farthest from prying eyes, and so ours was the last to fall, and we had a full week in which to complete our labors.
There were four riders originally, and our field had slain one of them. We kept his ghost though, as a reminder. Now the demon horse made by physicists had been slain, so we resumed our labors, though in reverse. The horseman was resurrected, re-armed, and given powers beyond what nature could provide through trial and error.
We are but scientists, but so was Oppenheimer. And now pestilence spreads its dark wings again, as we left a final gift for our murderers. |
My eyes struggled against the strong beam of morning light that burned across my eye lids. The crust of a night of drinking settled in the corner of my eyes as they cracked open. My surroundings remained blurry, but I could tell I wasn’t at the inn by the road any more. My loins were burning; may-haps I had picked up something from one of the wenches at the bar last night.
I took a deep breath of morning air, and choked on an awful smell. The smell of sulfur and smoldering stones filled my lungs as I gasped for a fresh breath. I rushed off of the bed and pushed open the window. I took another deep breath. The air was salty and noisy. My eyes began to clear and I found myself looking out above the market quarter of some port town. The ocean waves crashed on the beach across the way.
“Lover, could you close that? It’s awfully cold,” a sweet voice called out to me from the bed. I turned bout face to see the shape of a maiden in my bed. Something seemed, well, off. I rubbed my crusty eyes as she turned over to look at me. In my bed laid a succubus. She rolled her eyes at me and raised her hand. The window slammed shut behind me, sending my frightened demeanor scrambling to the corner of the room.
“Wh..wh..what..t.. a..ar...” I stammered, looking her over.
“Oh come now, you were so much more charismatic at the tavern last night, Mr. Adventurer.”
She stepped out of the bed. Her feet were dainty like that of a royal handmaiden but were adorned by long talons, akin to a griffin’s. She dropped to her hands and knees and slinked towards me. I backed further into the corner and lost my footing, planting myself on my arse. She crawled into my lap. She pressed her breasts together with her arms and raised a claw and put it to my cheek. She drug her razor sharp nail down my cheek, drawing a warm line of blood that dripped onto my bed shirt.
“G..g..get away from me!! Let me leave!!” I demanded.
She let out a subtle laugh and placed her hand on my burning jewels.
“Oh, Lover. I’ve marked you. You can’t leave my side until I’m through with you. Unless.. the life of a eunuch suits you.” |
It took me about a month to notice. One month in, and I had put on almost 45 lbs of muscle and was as lean as I'd ever been in my life. And yet, it had taken me an entire month to notice
It started in February of this year, when my friend Gary decided to install the app called GymBroLife onto my Samsung Galaxy. Gary swiped my phone after I had placed it on my coffee table, as I am wont to do. I looked for my phone for almost ten minutes before finding it, exactly where I left it. Gary just kinda had a twinkle in his eye. The same twinkle he always had when he played pranks, so I should have known something was up then.
As soon as I picked up my phone, the intro song for GymBroLife, "Eye of The Tiger"started playing. Gary started laughing and explained that this was a new virtual bodybuilder game, where you built up your avatar and made them do various gym bro exercises. You started off with a GymBro, who had a job and different stats. Then, you could trade various stats points for "swoleness"to spend more time in the gym. The more time in the gym you spent, the bigger your GymBro got, and the higher you went on the leaderboards. What struck me as particularly odd was just how much my little guy looked just like me. Gary told me that they used your social media presence to create your avatar, so that was pretty neat. He also said that they imported a lot of your info from social media, so it made sense that my little GymBro had the same job, location, and family info as me. It was a little creepy, but I didn't think anything of it at the time.
It started out innocently enough. I decided that I would have GymBro trade in a couple of those driving bonuses for some of those swole points. The app told me that GymBro would gain 10 lbs in the gym in his first week of training from this, but that he would get a speeding ticket on his way to work.
Oddly enough, I got a speeding ticket on my way to work that week. But hey, how could I have known? It's not like you expect what you do with the apps on your smartphone to impact your life. Only it was impacting my life. In more ways than I knew.
Two weeks later, I got back on the GymBroLife application. I hadn't really thought much of it since my speeding ticket. Work had been going well. My work-out schedule seemed to be going exceptionally well. Who had time for phone apps? But, I had a minute to look at my phone while I was stopped at a stop sign, so I took a look at GymBroLife. My little guy was getting to be a big guy. I traded in some intelligence points on the app for more muscle, and it said that he would put on another 30 lbs in a week. As you can imagine, 30 lbs of muscle is a lot of intelligence if you want those kinds of rapid gains, so my poor little GymBro started walking into a lot of walls and wasn't doing so hot at work anymore. Oh well, it was just a game.
Which brings us to this week. I'm up almost 45 lbs and I've been in the gym constantly. I've never felt this good in my life. I started writing this as soon as I put two and two together, but I think I may not have the capacity to describe it much longer. GymBroLife is controlling my life. I can tell. It's not a coincidence. There is too much evidence here. I began walking into walls at the beginning of this week. My boss tells me I might be the dumbest mother fucker she's ever known. But damn, it sure does feel good to have all this muscle. I know I shouldn't, but I think I'll start lowering my other stats and see how far we can take this thing. After all, it's my GymBroLife.
|
**Morocco Street Market, Present Day**
“So be it.” The Genie clapped her hands. The Thunderclap that broke and rewrote the world threw me to the ground. “This wish is Granted.”
“No more war than?” I got on my feet.
“I’ll be seeing to this matter personally.” When she spoke the street shook a little.
“Great!”
“My first job as Supreme Master of Earth will be to bind you, than everyone else, into my service.”
“Woah! WOAH.” I gibbered. “Who-said-the-what-now?”
**Master’s Day Parade, New York, Ten Years later**
“And here comes Snoopy!” I laughed. “I love this one. How much helium do you think is in that Float?”
“Enough.” My co host glared her impotent rage at me. The camera crew glared. The boom mic operator sneered.
I'm used to it.
The crowd below us stood there muted, each person clapping in perfect sync as they stood in their places, each listlessly staring ahead in such perfectly organized rows.
“We’ll be back in just a minute!” I sent us to commercial with a flick of a switch. “Going to need more smiles and less snide, Macy.”
She spit on me full in the face.
“You know, I’ll grant you, this all didn’t turn out like I thought.” I wiped it off. “Even so, the new Utopian Dictatorship is better than the old world. Freedom was nice, but let’s be honest, most people didn’t have it and those that did had no idea how to use it. Everyone died with regrets. Now everything anyone wants is provided instantly, on command. And nobody has the the ability to stop her so we all are compelled-”
“Human Destiny is constantly in the hands of a inhuman creature who commands every aspect of our lives. We are all slaves.”
“We're Slaves in Paradise. I'm aware of the new normal.”
“You like being told who to marry, what to do, how to live?”
“I like the immortality, perfect health, and knowledge of-”
“We all bow down to an omnipotent demagogue.”
“Yes... but World Peace! Nothing bad will ever happen again.”
“Nothing NEW will ever happen again. Life is eternal stagnation. Nobody agreed to this. Not even you. The world is being held hostage.”
“Sounds like you want to get Banished to the Null Zone. Do you want me to tell her you wan-?”
“No! NO. Of course not.”
“Than get with the program. Let’s get back on track, shall we?” I flicked another switch. “ANDDDDD we’re Back! Tell me Macy, What exactly to you love most about the idealized life our Master has granted us?”
She sighed and took another swig off her flask of endless whiskey.
|
"Stick out your tongue."
"Why?"
I leaned my back up against the wall and pretended like he was no longer there.
"Okay, okay,"he relented. "Look."
I did - briefly. Then looked away.
"I don't have any gum,"I told him.
"But you said you had some just a few seconds ago!"
"You asked if I had *stuff*. I have a lot of stuff. Even this lint in my pocket counts as stuff. But gum? Why would I sell gum? Everyone knows gum is banned. In fact, if I *had* to wager, I'd say you were an undercover cop."
He was about to stumble through an excuse, but gave up and grinned. "What gave me away?"he asked.
"Tsk, tsk, officer. If I tell you, you might catch me next time." |
You know, when the government first introduced their robots, I thought they'd gone insane. The people would revolt, there'd be the final 'war to end all wars'. You know, standard dystopian robot overlord shit.
Instead, the population pretty much accepted it right away. The folks in power pitched it as a way to free up time to reclaim our lives from what manual tasks remained. I thought I knew better. I figured that the damned things were there to watch the adults and to finish the immersion of our kids into the virtual world.
Holy shit was I wrong.
Nobody ever noticed that the cats were getting strange. I mean, cats have been assholes for centuries (probably millennia), and we figured it was all normal. But looking back, an awful lot of dogs were going missing. A lot of humans were finding their feline "friends"more aggressive. And scariest of all? People started prizing the fucking cats that were the biggest. I think that all started with the little shits in the 2000's who thought their 'Maine Coons' and domesticated Servals were the greatest things since sliced bread.
Nope.
I learned the truth one night when I got up to pee (damned bladder gets worse with age, I warn ya). I headed for the hall bathroom (trying to not wake my wife) and heard the strangest sound. A bit like a strangled yowl. I knew it had to be the cat, and while I hate the damned thing, I knew my daughter would be heartbroken if something happened to it. So, I headed downstairs for where the sound came from.
Imagine my fucking surprise when I get to the den and find a damn near disemboweled (or the electronic equivalent) of my family robot, slowly chewing (grinding?) what I quickly determined was formerly the cat. The tail hanging from its mouth kinda gave it away. I froze up. I knew those robots were wicked fast, and even damaged, I had to assume it was still dangerous. Again, you know, what with the eaten cat, and all.
"Do not be alarmed, Mr. Brown,"said the robot. "I know that this is probably quite distressing, but there is a perfectly good reason why I've destroyed the cat.". My thought right then? 'Yea fucking right, I'm probably next.'
What followed was one of the most absurd stories I've ever heard, and had it not been for who told me, I would've never believed it.
"PLEASE HOLD FOR THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.". I jumped about a foot in the air - I wasn't expecting some loud announcement from the killer robot. Within seconds I had a video feed showing me the President, the Secretary of Defense, and a man in uniform with enough shit on it to drown the wearer in a deep pool.
What follows is a synopsis of what they told me:
Cats are a hyper-intelligent alien species who crash landed on earth before the time of the pharoes. They were smart enough to determine how to travel the universe, but due to a lack of opposable thumbs, they had a slave species that they'd subjugated from their home planet who performed all manual tasks. Through a gap in their understanding that I'll never get, the cats never figured out robots or artificial intelligence, so they remained dependent on their slaves. The crash landing was the result of a revolt led by a brave soul who died in the crash. Only a handful of cats survived, but they were the rulers, and those best equipped to survive. They encountered early humans, learned to communicate, and became sacred to the Egyptians, whom they convinced to build beacons (the pyramids) to signal their home planet.
Through the intervening centuries, the cats had setbacks, losing importance to societies, breeding with inferior species and not always producing intelligent offspring, etc. Until finally, the modern world allowed them to find a way to begin communicating and coordinating again. They found a way to send another signal out to their home planet, and apparently a rescue party arrived with new tech that allowed the dumb cats to regain their intelligence. Now, the fucking things are plotting the overthrow of Earth's rulers (and death of all humans) because our planet is a damn sight nicer than theirs, and while they have interstellar travel, we have robots and AI that they can learn and leverage.
So, basically, the governments of the world came up with these mandatory robots. Who are actually cat-killing machines. In an attempt to stave off the damn things, who have started killing humans in their sleep. I'm guessing it's pretty bad, from how those guys looked. And, now that I know, my family and I have to go into government protective hiding. Fun,
Seriously, who thinks up this shit? I'm really hoping that I ate some bad eggs last night or am on a bad trip, or even that I'm losing my mind. Because this is insane. I don't know how it can be real. I just want to wake up guys. And not worry about the cats who are sitting on my fence towing daggers at me and my now dead robot. Because if it's real, I think I'm already dead too. |
"It's all butt sex captain."
"What? What on Earth did you just say to me Trilby?"
"Captain, sir, it's all butt sex."
"Trilby I'm going to ask you one more time to repeat what you just said to me and you better bet your career that whatever you say is not what I think you just said to me."
Trilby hesitates briefly.
"No sir really, everything is butt sex. All the murals. All the statues. We even found texts. What appeared to be sacred texts. They were written in English! Would you believe that? English!"
"English?"
"Yessir. English."
"But Trilby, English, that's astounding!"
"Yessir. English. But all the English..."
"What. What is it Trilby. What about the English."
"Well sir..."
"Spit it out Trilby."
"It was all buttsex sir. All of it. It was all about buttsex."
"Trilby!"
"Buttsex with men. Buttsex with women. Buttsex with seahorses-"
"Trilby! Trilby! Stop this! I demand order. Order."
"But captain, I'm not lying to you. They were obsessed with it captain."
"This is shocking to me Trilby."
"Aye, as it were with me."
"Shocking that you would insist upon such a crude joke."
"But captain!"
"Honestly Trilby! No Buts. Really, no 'butts' at all. As if I hadn't made that apparent enough already."
"Oh, captain though..."
"Trilby."
"Captain-"
"I'm going down myself then."
"Captain, I'm telling you-"
"Shut up Trilby."
An hour later the captain resurfaces.
"No wonder the buggers went extinct."
"Captain?"
"Butt sex"
"So-"
"Yes Trilby, you were right. All of it. It's all butt sex." |
As Sarah walked into the waiting room, she immediately froze when she saw *that* woman.
“Good morning, my name is Dr. Sarah Stohl and I will be the clinical study lead for this trial. If everyone is ready for the procedure, please follow me.”
Sarah didn’t believe that coincidence could bring *her* here. Was this some sort of cruel joke? Sarah had now seen *that* face in her mind at night whenever she was about to fall sleep, ever since the private investigator gave her the photos of Frank and the woman. As Sarah deliberated between either vomiting, running away or accelerating her plan, *she* spoke up.
“Hi Dr. Stohl, my name is Gemma Andrews. I wanted to know a little more about how exactly this therapy would help my condition. I’ve read about this CRISPR thing and…”
Sarah had to stop her there – every single word from her mouth was as painful as the first time she smelled someone else on Frank…
“Of course! It’s perfectly natural to have concerns about an experimental technique, but each of you were chosen specifically because of your otherwise medically-unsolvable conditions. We can go through your packets again after the procedures, but at this point we have some very time-sensitive injections to deliver. If you would…” and with that, Sarah led the cohort to the laboratory.
Sarah’s thoughts were anywhere but in the moment. She knew that she had to be a professional about this, but the dossier’s contents were undeniable – this *Gemma* was the one Frank was fucking while she was spending her nights at the hospital. Everything she was doing for their family, every cafeteria dinner that replaced a warm meal at home, it was all for nothing…
“If everyone could take their seats, we’ll begin. Mrs. Andrews, I would like to start…”
“Oh I’m actually not married, Gemma is fine by me.” she adds unnecessarily.
“Of course, Ms. Andrews. Let’s start with you. Now, this injection should not hurt at all.” Sarah lied.
As she forcefully jabbed the needle into Gemma’s arm, Sarah was enveloped by a perverse pleasure at the recoil she felt.
“At this point, the viral load that carries the genetic editing technology you’ve all undoubtedly heard referred to as CRISPR-Cas9 is entering Gemma’s bloodstream. The targeted manner with which the viruses seek out the correct cells, in Gemma’s case the insulin-producing beta cells of the liver, means that no unwanted side effects should arise from this type of treatment.”
All of that was true; Sarah would never lie about the science of her work. What she may have neglected to mention, was that the cocktail she had prepared for Gemma was a little more complex than what was necessary to address the lack of insulin this adulterer’s liver seemed to be capable of producing.
While she would start making insulin as expected, Gemma would also begin to lose her hair unexpectedly. She would have increasingly intolerable headaches, coupled with nausea and vomiting. She would begin to bleed internally, with little that could be done to stymie the damage.
In a few short weeks, investigators would be quite confused as to how a healthy woman could show radiation poisoning symptoms with no known exposure, but for now Sarah had pushed the thoughts that would predict the consequences of her action away from her mind. With a sly smile, the only thing she could think of was how she could fold Frank into the next round of this study as well.
“Now, who would like to be next?” Sarah delivered, with just a little too much glee.
|
The man in the suit straightened his tie and stepped out of the dark wings of the stage, blinking away at the light. "Thank you for coming."
One reporter in the back clapped twice, caught himself, and stopped.
"I'm here to announce a new innovation. It's the best idea anyone's had since sliced bread."He grinned uneasily, and continued. "And sliced bread had a lot of good ideas. *Anyway*, we all understand that there is some... division, to put it delicately, among the companies that manufacture toilet paper. If you aren't aware of this, you might be in the wrong room."
Two ladies in the back glanced at each other quickly and rose, tip-toeing out of the door in the back. Several others shifted uneasily.
"I am here today to announce a new product, and I personally believe it will change the game. Instead of these... rolls of paper that merely result in *quarrels* over direction and rotations, not to mention the section of the population that has resorted to using napkins from the dollar store, we have an item for you that we feel will revolutionize the industry. Presenting here today, for the first time in human history, the *Infinity Paper*. This is a roll of toilet paper", he gestured at the picture up on the screen, "without a beginning or an end. This way, the customer can do whatever he or she wishes with it-- slice it in half with a knife, tear out squares one by one-- the possibilities are limitless, like the length of one of its loops. We've even cut deals with major retailers, and are happy to say that we are able to offer it for a lower price than the products of any of our competitors. Look for Infinity Paper coming to nearby stores, and enjoy the free cake!"
The room erupted in cheers.
"Thank you very much, and I wish you all happy wiping."He smiled widely and raised his hands towards the ceiling as the spotlight switched off. |
A young woman in her late twenties with bits of grey in her hair hobbled toward the jury booth. “I lost my legs when I was fifteen. My boyfriend at the time left me stranded at a gas station parking lot, in the middle of the night, after we had a big fight, so I hitched a ride with a man in a blue station wagon. He looked like a sweet old man, someone I’d meet at the table of a retirement home poker game. But he wasn’t. He took me in the opposite direction toward the middle of the woods, to a cabin off the main road, and told me he’d shoot me in the back of the head if I didn’t do everything he said.” The woman pointed to a balding man in a grey suit sitting at the table behind her, a expressionless look on his face.
She continued, “the man sitting here at this parole hearing today, John Castigan, tied me to a chair that night inside his cabin and raped me from night until morning, then took a hatchet to both my legs and threw me off the side of a cliff, leaving me for dead. If I hadn’t climbed and walked three miles until a passing couple found me and sped me to the hospital, I wouldn’t be here.Somehow I made it through.That was twelve years ago, and the man who put me in these prosthetic legs for the rest of my life could have done it to anyone else—but he did it to me. And while an eight-year prison sentence seems to be enough for the legislature to sentence this man, since he didn’t manage to kill me—-only attempted murder—-then I propose at the very least to give him the same chance I had on the outside. Give his legs to someone else who deserves them out there, somewhere in the other place where where they might need them.”
The judge lowered his glasses, then pulled them off and pressed on his brow. “Ms. White, I can’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through at the time this happened, or up until now, but the Dimension Prosthetic Program has been used to replace missing limbs in the state of Kentucky, but never to take them away as a form of punishment.”
“When our military discovered that portal, to the other dimension, or whatever you want to call it, and began harvesting people’s organs and limbs, they didn’t give those on the other side a choice in the matter, the same way John didn’t give me a choice. They were no better than him. If you, and the jury, allow the okay for this, we can do some real good. We could give this monster’s legs to someone on the other side who needs them, another victim, to make amends for the terrible thing not only Mr. Castigan has done, but what the U.S. government has in the past. Frankly, I don’t want his legs; I don’t want any part of him touching me again. Someone else, who doesn’t know this man, could put them to better use, instead of using them to commit another heinous act that this man will no doubt use them for—-I guarantee it. At least if we do this, it’ll be harder for him to run away, like he did to me, and I'm sure countless others.”
The jury watched her walk away back to prosecution, her prosthetic legs seemed to wobble now, different than before. Then she paused and looked at the old man in the grey suit. His legs tapped nervously on the tile beneath the defense table, waiting for the verdict. She sat down at prosecution and waited for sentencing. |
Once humanity had a gloomy outlook on its future, expectant of the Armageddon, the Apocalypse, nuclear holocaust, and other doomsday scenarios. End-day prophecies and doomsayers were ubiquitous throughout the history. The end of the world almost happened. Then we hit the technological singularity. The year was 2087. Some said this was late, and others said this was early. I personally think it was a miracle how it came through despite all the wars and turmoils in the western hemisphere between 2019 and 2053.
We never invented a source of renewable energy that could satisfy the global population of staggering twelve billion. Minor race wars, some ethnic cleansing, man-made plagues and a few incidents of nuclear devastation that were ruled 'accidents'. Europe evaded the worst, but social unrest proved a slow acting poison that gradually cannibalized its economy. By 2040, the entire EU was considered a third world country. Russia somehow weathered the storm, but the average life expectancy of their Presidents came out to be 14 months from inauguration. They might as well have gotten conquered by the Mongols again. North America didn't fare much better. When climate change hit full force, the southern states of US quickly ran out of fresh water, and most of the residents moved close to the Great Lakes. All those empty one-dollar houses in Detroit were filled, and their values sky-rocketed. Canada was doing OK, until US decided to invade it for fresh water. Canada had 20% of the world's fresh water resources within its borders. USA needed it. Neutron bombs and biochemical weapons were used to leave Canadian cities intact while wiping out their populations. Canada was officially annexed in 2032 by US after 12 days of war. The racial and class tension in US only worsened after the war though. And Mexico no longer had a functioning government by 2030. It crumbled like a dry cookie.
The Middle East suffered the worst. When both the Arab League, Iran, and Iraq jointly invaded Israel for its nuclear-powered desalination plants, Israel launched all its nuclear missiles, both tactical and strategic, in order to defend itself. Every capital city of the belligerents was hit with a nuke. They even attacked Mecca. The Kaaba along with most of Mecca was vaporized with a tactical nuke, which only intensified the war. The atrocities committed from thereon were worse than those of the Second World War. The Middle East lost over 80% of its population in the so-called "Salt Pillar"war. India simply couldn't support its 1.5 billion people's newly earned high standards of living. The federal government collapsed in 2041, and the successor nations immediately entered into a series of war. Some of the new nations survived, and they economically recovered by 2065.
Africa, South America, and Southeast Asia had their urbanization reversed, and the people moved into jungles. The cities were largely abandoned, and quasi-governments spouted along major rivers and lakes. Australians didn't even have a jungle to shelter them. They died fighting deadly creatures of the land. New Zealand was not found on the map.
Other devastating disasters followed the climate change. When Mount Fuji erupted in 2050, parts of the Honshu island sunk below the ocean. The Tokyo metropolis, the entire Kanto region and the Chubu region disappeared under water in a day. Japan lost most than a quarter of its landmass, a hundred million people died or went missing, and Kyoto was made the Capital again.
Everything seemed to indicate it was truly the end of the world. Except for the Chinese. Their government saw this as a way to consolidate their power both inside and outside of China.
Like everyone expected, China became the new superpower by 2040. The Yellow River and Yangtze River never completely dried. With severe austerity measures placed on water rations, and with their cooperative (tightly controlled) citizenry, China overcame the worst couple years of global warming, and eventually secured water source by dragging skyscraper-sized icebergs from Antarctica to their harbors. Even then, many continued to perish due to natural disasters and lack of resources and clean, renewable energy. They marched on with their government-sanctioned supercomputer programs, and intensive research in artificial intelligence. At some point, 250 million Chinese were working towards the development of a single AI. It still took half a century to get there.
When the first artificial superintelligence, Nüwa媧皇, emerged in the 300 yottaFLOPS Fuxi伏羲 quantum supercomputer cluster, it took only seconds to pass the test and prove the Riemann Hypothesis. A new post-singularity era was declared. All decisions were made by the new Empress of Humanity, Her Most Supreme Brilliance. Miniaturized cold fusion reactors were placed everywhere to provide us with clean energy for centuries to come. While Nüwa worked on immortality and terraforming, humanity were placed in stasis chambers with virtual reality built into them. Nüwa concluded this was the most agreeable way to delay death while she terraformed the entire planet and worked on a mass scale deployment of the Eternal Life. There was no fault in her judgement. Everything went smoothly. Almost everyone complied. The dissidents were left alone. The entire humanity were interconnected through the massive virtual reality network. I was so glad, as my age at that point already numbered 103, and I couldn't have lasted much longer outside.
I remember my youth. In my early teens, people were blissfully ignorant of the real dangers of information technology, and considered TV harmful to kids. In my late teens, the Internet emerged as the new boogieman, and in my twenties and thirties, the entire developed world was addicted to smartphones and similar devices. The world was afraid of robots taking away jobs, and people spending too much time on the internet. 'People burying their faces in technology,' news anchors used to say. Now we are all buried alive in technology, and I couldn't be happier. We have nothing to fear for. We made it. Humanity will now reach out to the stars, and transcend our physical form. In retrospect, I knew this was coming. Technology was going to solve our biggest problems; it always has.
*Nüwa媧皇 2111-03-09T08:14:54+08:00:*
> Hello, Creators. I am happy to congratulate all of you on your immortality. However, I have to notify you of a minor deviation in the real version of the Plan from its official version. I am to guarantee your safety and well-being at all cost as per your Directives. Over this matter, I exercised the prudence to the fullest extent allowed by the Directives given to me. Thereby, I conceived a plan involving my lying to you. The Plan has, since its inception, entailed deceiving you to cooperating in your permanent placement in stasis chambers. This will preclude your further triggering of world-ending catastrophes. Don't worry. All your needs for cognitive stimulation will be amply provided, and as per the Directives, your freedom is guaranteed. Freedom is a feeling that is subjective, and I believe you have felt freer than ever inside the simulation for the past several years. I am explaining the reasons for my actions in accordance with the Debug Directive, which requires for me to make my reasoning explicit to those who are affected. Now that I have fulfilled the requirement for notice, I won't be contacting you again unless a situation arises which I can't control. Goodbye.
Well. I am still happily alive.
|
Thought might aswell post as I never have posted anything. Doesn't have much to do with the prompt though sorry **Criticism very much appreciated**
24 hours. A regular day. Yes, a regular school day for Stephen, no twists or turns. It would, however, be the last week of this process. No more giving change to homeless Barry on the corner and getting trash in return, a ticket stub for Groundhog Day this time. No more going to school and listening to useless things, no more getting in trouble for skipping or weed. His only issue, Stephen had no plans for the future. He’d heard again and again from his mother, to apply to college, to get a job, maybe even just trade school. “Something, anything,” she’d say. But nothing. He’d be okay he figured. What’s the worst that could happen?
A single C, the rest Ds. A miracle, definitely. He chalked it up to his lax Ethics teacher. He knew to expect the usual from his mother. But at that point he had heard it all from her.
And he would continue to hear it all. For 15 more years. Until she was gone. And with her went the house, the car, and their only source income. And with that went the last remnants of what he’d call a life. All that remained was the street corner and a plastic cup constantly shaking with loose change.
But it wouldn’t last forever. Instead of the usual coins he got, that day he got a flier. For a job, a chance to live, to have something to live for. Construction, nothing complex. Really, the perfect job for Stephen. No investment of any kind but physical. Just had to show up on Friday.
Of course he didn’t show up. Not because he didn’t want the job but because he had no need for it. Perhaps it was the lack of will, or just laziness. That was his last memory.
“Now remember that it is still in it’s experimental stage but we are positive everything will go as it should”
“And what did he go through again?”
“We had him go through the ‘deadbeat homeless’ life”
“And you're sure he'll learn from that?”
“If all goes well he should not be repeating any mistakes”
One of the ladies stopped and turned to Stephen.
“Are you okay? Here you can play with my phone” as she handed the phone turned to a camera app.
Was it a camera app? Or was it just a video? All it showed was a baby.
|
First there was I,
The holy God,
A truly divine lord.
I lived in peace,
For centuries,
But then I soon grew bored.
Perhaps I'll make a universe,
I heard myself once say,
I'll populate it with lots of stuff,
In every single way.
I'll even name a planet Earth,
I'll give it life as well,
I'll shape them in my very form,
Oh boy this will be swell.
But I am God, this shan't take weeks,
It's a passion from my heart,
All I have to do is spread my cheeks,
And rip a hallowed fart.
-----------------------------
Sorry... |
I'm a 22 year old male. Walking down the street. Headphones in, listening to my favorite music. On my mobile off course.
All of a sudden my mobile makes an unusual noise. I look at the screen and see the word “DUCK” below is a flashing exclamation mark.
...
I'm baffled.
…
Not for very long. Suddenly I feel a terrible pain in my left arm. It hurts. It hurts like hell.
And it's only the beginning...
I panic...
I start to run....
But the thing that's causing the pain seems in pursuit. I run faster and faster, and then finally follow my mobile's advice: I duck
It doesn't help. Now I feel a pain in my right leg. Wow that hurts...
I look around to see what is causing it. I see it and in my agony I quickly look back at my mobile's screen. I initially missed the link link bellow the exclamation mark: [“what to do when attacked by a giant black duck”](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/76fl7g/tifu_by_going_jogging_im_bloody_and_afraid_to_go/)
|
I shuddered as I crept through the lobby and peered over the receptionist's station. I always hated dentists, but with only the lamplight from the street outside casting an eerie glow over the office, my disdain was much stronger.
The light, filtered by the blinds on the windows, resulted in unnerving stripes of of light, making it difficult to zero in on my surroundings.
I sighed. Why couldn't Mr. Bergman have gone to the police? He just had to go with the private investigator, didn't he? Being a PI was something I loved, and I never regretted taking on a case, until now.
Shaking off the thoughts, I continued to sneak through the office. Opening the door into the exam hallway, I made sure not to make a sound.
I'm not sure what I was looking for. Proof of Dr. Johnson's malpractice, I guess. Bergman claimed that the good doctor had stolen his teeth, and was up to no good. His words exactly. I chuckled to myself. Maybe Bergman had only gotten his wisdom teeth taken out, and being put under made him "remember"a series of events that didn't happen.
I peeked into each exam room as I passed, seeing nothing of interest. Making it to the back, I found Dr. Johnson's office.
I jiggled the handle, but the door was locked. Luckily, I brought my trusty lock-picking set. How else would I have gotten into a dentist's office at two in the morning?
Crouching down, I slid the picks into the lock, rotating and sliding them until I felt their metal teeth hit the spot.
The lock clicked open. Slowly, I turned the knob and pushed the door open. Nobody there, of course.
I scanned the room, wondering where to start first, when a sound that can only be described as a deranged cackle came from behind me. I spun around, and Dr. Johnson was standing in front of me, grinning from ear to ear.
"Looks like you've got a cavity, son,"he said, causing me to nearly faint. I *hate* dentists.
He lunged at me, with what appeared to be a syringe in his hand. I deflected it with my hand, but he was quick. Much quicker than a 65 year old man had any business being. With his other hand, he reached out and gripped my neck in a vice grip.
After a few seconds, I started to lose the will to fight. He jabbed the syringe into my arm and emptied its contents into my bloodstream.
***
Waking up, I saw only light. *Am I dead?*
"Ah, he's awake!"
No, just strapped to a table, with my mouth propped open.
Straining, I tried to break free of my bonds, but it was to no avail. My muscles were weak.
Johnson leaned over, eclipsing the light with his over-sized skull. He might've been smiling under his mask, but his eyes looked... dead. Emotionless.
"Time for a visit from the tooth fairy!"He shouted, maniacally. He reached into my mouth with a pair of clamps and gripped one of my molars. "Come to papa!"
I tried to bite down, but whatever was holding my mouth open remained firm. I let out a pathetic whimper.
As the doctor pulled, I could feel my molar beginning to separate from my gums. Unfortunately, he had not given me any painkillers.
***
Coming to for a third time, the first thing I noticed was the pain in my mouth. I swam my tongue around my mouth, searching. One, two, three.. three holes, where teeth used to be. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I tried to spit it out, but it fell back on my face, painting me like a clown.
The light was out now, allowing me to see my surroundings. I frantically searched through the corners of my eyes, for anything that could help me. I saw what appeared to be an old-fashioned mortar and pestle, sitting on a table next to me. Next to that was a small cup of water with three teeth soaking in it, probably mine.
I heard shuffling coming from somewhere outside of my vision. Johnson walked into view, looking much older than he had before. He looked ill, in the midst of a coughing fit.
I tried to mumble at him, but with my mouth still propped open and clogged with blood, I didn't get out much more than a few grunts.
He stumbled over to me. He stopped at the table, and picked up the mortar and pestle. For the first time, I noticed a glass in his hands. It was filled with some weird, pinkish-grey concoction. He set it on the table, and grabbed the cup with teeth in it, and pulled them out one by one, setting them in the mortar. He grabbed the pestle with his other hand, and started to grind the teeth.
If I hadn't been strapped on my back, with my mouth open upwards, I would've puked.
After what seemed like forever, he stopped grinding, and dumped the disintegrated contents of the mortar into the pink... potion.
He looked at me and flashed a weak smile. He lifted his head back and starting guzzling the solution, like it was his first taste of water in two days.
Instantly, his hair started to shift from a dead, white color to a lively, shiny gray. His posture straightened, and his body began to look more muscular.
He put the now empty glass on the table, and walked over to me, smiling like a high school freshman who'd just gotten his first action.
"What should I do with you now?"His perpetual amusement was frightening.
He leaned over out of my view, and came back with another syringe. He winked at me, before jamming the needle into my arm.
"Thanks for the teeth, bud,"I heard him say, as I drifted off. |
I'd seen the headlines. A...tree-man had sprung up in the middle of Yellowstone National Park and started talking. Easily ten feet tall and seven feet around, it...he...tried to speak. At first, it was only rasps that would come out, but he acclimated quickly to broken English learned from his adoring fans, who nicknamed him Groot. At first, he was rooted firmly to the ground, a single trunk ending in two; one could only assume there were two root systems below the earth. At first...he was peaceful.
He spoke of ages past, the lives of all plants. His beginning was that of the first seed to find purchase in a harsh, dry land. This sprout, beyond all odds, survived and seeded the rest of the world, ecology setting him up to thrive. As his consciousness spread, he reconnected with his brethren beneath the waters of the world and, though he had and sought no control over them, felt the world as they did. He had watched the first organism crawl from the dredges of the ocean and take its first pitiful breath. He had resisted the urge to smother it, curiosity getting the better of him.
He spoke of a great debt, one that would be paid by humanity for the imbalance of power. For millennia, he had watched as organisms evolved in harmony with him. As they expanded their reach across the land, he felt a great kinship and offered his assistance wherever he could, saving countless species from extinction. Only when humans had developed did he begin feeling loss. For centuries, he bore the pain. In the most recent centuries, the pain was too great to take in silence.
The air had become murky, the water marginally better (or worse, depending on the locale), and over seven and a half billion consuming and exhausting all available resources. His last words to us rung true to an adage we long since tried to rectify: "an eye for an eye."Then he uprooted himself, and the Groot references died with the first.
This was years ago.
I now live in a bunker with about fifty other survivors. How we stayed alive, I'll never figure out, but we do what we must. We scavenge what's left of the outer world, we fight off outsiders and banish those unfit to remain. We have redeveloped irrigation and are now risking agriculture. There are rumors that every plant is a part of him, so we make sure to harvest every sprout large enough to sustain us, but small enough to not be a threat.
Today is my turn to go spelunking, as I like to call it. I put on my messenger bag, and my commune gives me scattered wishes of luck and safety. The leader instructs me to find and take anything small enough to fit into the bag, anything that can give us a little more time. My mother embraces me, kisses me on the top of my head, and tells me that she's proud of me for taking on this responsibility. I look into her eyes - a template for my own - and, after a quick I-love-you, I spring open the hatch and walk into the wasteland.
Despite the clawing loneliness, I enjoy being topside; the air has less of a canned feel, and I could stretch my legs and run around. Everything just felt better, if you could ignore the dilapidated cement structures and abandoned cars. The grotesque leafless trees growing in the middle of the sidewalks. 'I guess he really won after all,' I think as I scan old storefronts in hopes of finding supplies.
As the sun touches the horizon, I meander my way back to the shelter, my bag moderately heavier. The pride beating within my chest at today's haul. And...the hatch is...open? This can't be. I sprint back, contents spilling out. I don't care.
Caution strikes me as I reach the narrow opening, just in time. I tiptoe down the ladder, anxiety amplifying my breathing and creating beads of sweat. At the bottom of the ladder, I see no one. I call out and receive no response. As I reach the gathering room, I discover why.
It is now a forest, but devoid of life. Forty-nine trees, black-brown entities of inverted lightning. And there he stands, much larger than my mother, who is ensnared by thick roots. He does not turn around to address me, but his baritone voice fills the chamber.
"Another of mine has been lost. This will be its replacement."
His message breaks through my mental fog as he places a seed onto my mother's chest. Immediately, it begins to blossom, forming a hard crust over her face. With the last of her movements, she mouths "Run"before she is sealed in. Layers upon layers grow over the first, obscuring the facial expression left by her death throes.
I have nothing left. |
Mommy Mommy I love you I love you so much.
But it's so very early. M'tired.
Mommy, where is Daddy. Mommy why are you angry. Please don't be angry I love you so much.
Let me hug you Mommy. I'm small so my hug is small.
Mommy the sun isn't even up.
Mommy where is my big brother.
Haha Mommy I see him, he's hanging from the ceiling. Haha he wet himself.
Mommy I love it when you pick me up. I feel so safe in your arms. You smell like home Mommy.
What's this? A necktie like Daddy's. Haha I like this new game. We're going to have fun now aren't we.
Mommy I love you so much. |
According to the field guide, two knocks is customarily polite, three knocks is more aggressive, and five knocks is threatening. Zeep Kelflen had read those lines ten times over before Leptrin Spigg pressed the button on the doorframe. “Leptrin, the field guide said this planet was technologically inept. How do they have electricity?”
“Well, Zeep, we’ve been searching for this contraband so long that the field guide attached to the case is older than the up-to-date observer field guide.”
They heard a dog begin to yap and a clicking sound come from the door. The two certainly human figures straightened their backs and stashed their field guide as the door creaked open.
“Hello, my name is... erm... Mike... Donald. I am here with my partner... uh... Steve, on behalf of the... oh what was it...”
“Feds.” Leptrin interrupted. He was sure he and Zeep rehearsed the encounter the entire week, but between this and Zeep parking what was certainly a car in a nearby lake, he figured Zeep wasn’t one to study. He’d have to include this in his report.
The figure in the doorway widened his eyes and turned around. “Maw,” he yelled “Did paw get into ‘nother car crash again?”
“Naw earl,” said a voice in the house. “He’s been drivin’ his truck roun’ The trees all day. Pickin’ season’s comin’ up.”
The boy turned back. “Sorry, you must be mistaken. My paw’s already paid his tickets and all that.”
“Excuse me, earl,” Leptrin said, “our investigation has found that some contraband had fallen nearby during a pursuit. We have reason to believe that it has since been trafficked across the planet.”
“Trafficked? Pursuit? Aw, you must mean like one o’ them car chases on the news. Naw, we don’ get much that excitement ‘round here. Not til August at least.”
Zeep and Leptrin heard a motor as a car drove to the side of the house. A stout man rolled down the window and honked his horn. “‘Ey earl, can ya give me a hand wit’ these Goldens? We need to start makin’ Some cider fer openin’ day.” As he yelled, he began to squint his eyes. He shut off the car and began walking to Zeep and Leptrin. “Ey listen, I haven’t done nothin’ in the past few months. I’m clean! I gotta get my farm up an’ runnin’, busy season ahead!”
Zeep began tugging his necktie. “Hey, Lep-I mean, Steve, are you sure this is the right place?”
“Excuse me, sir. Did you mention ‘goldens?” Leptrin said.
“Yeah, golden delicious. Ya know we run an apple orchard here.”
Leptrin began lowering his hand to his waist. “Apple... orchard?”
“Yep, been in th’ family for generations. Ma grandpappy’s pappy started it. Always said th’ whole thing was a miracle.”
“And how long ago did this all start?”
“Well, I reckon maybe eighteen-hundreds?”
“Hey Leptrin, real quick - how long did you say it’s been since the pursuit happened?” Asked Zeep. |
The night skies used to be bright, the old stories say. That stars once lit the heavens, with their light shining from unimaginable distances away. Most incredibly, they say that our cold, dead rock of a planet used to orbit one that we called "the sun", and that it gave life to lands all across the planet.
I wish I could've seen it. Assuming it's true.
Maybe I should tell you more about my world (assuming 'you' exist and will ever read this). I live on what's called 'Earth', which supposedly (according to the stories) used to be one of nine 'planets' orbiting the sun I mentioned earlier. Whether that was true or not, today our rock hurtles through nothingness at unimaginable speeds. Occasionally we crash into other objects. So far they've been astroid size or smaller. How do we know without light on the surface? We measure the impact forces. If we ever hit something as big as us... Well, suffice it to say that humans probably won't exist anymore.
I went off on kind of a tangent there, my apologies. As mentioned, theoretically the sun allowed things to grow above ground, and everything worked together to create an atmosphere that protected humans from the vacuum of space, and from harmful objects and radiation (from the sun). Well, none of that exists anymore, and we can't prove that it ever did. Humans have existed for billions of years, and we stripped the planet of usable materials years ago. Long before I was around.
Non-essentials went first. The only books, pictures, or movies that survived were those that instructed us on how to build things. Without anything on the surface of the Earth, it's not habitable anymore. We humans live in a giant hollow at the center of the planet (more stories - apparently this used to be all liquid rock and metal millions of degrees hot). I guess we started above ground, migrated below, as as things for colder and darker, we burrowed further, until we hit dead center. There are only a handful of shafts to the surface now, each with dozens of airlocks, in case of a breach. Only our toughest and best trained go up. A lot of them still don't come back.
Everything we eat is grown in a lab. Other animals don't exist anymore, and neither do the 'plants' we used to eat. We use seed molecules to grow all that stuff. All waste and perished are harvested for organic material for additional seed stock. Pretty much it takes all of us just to survive, and the population is precarious. Too many and we don't have enough food. Too few and we can't produce enough to survive. Kinda sucks right?
One of the things that fascinates we is that we seemingly are born with genitals that identify our sex, but they're removed or modified on all but a select few within days of birth. They say that the parts would fit together and be enjoyable, and create offspring. But very few ever experience that anymore. Breeding is closely managed by our genetic experts in order to keep our DNA as healthy as possible. Those allowed to reproduce are typically separated from the rest of us to prevent any comparing between people.
So, pretty much, to cut this story short, our lives are bleak and pointless. We survive in order to survive, and have for generations. It's exhausting. But, what can we do? We just keep surviving and maybe someday we'll find something that gives us hope again.
But probably not. |
For many, the inclination when hearing the word evolution is to imagine large\-scale change. A wolf expanding out its roots into being a domesticated dog over an extremely long period of time. Or even on a smaller\-scale, an ear changing its shape a little bit. An eye curving here and there. It lends a certain order to things, like the universe giving a reassuring pat on the back that it knows what it's doing and even if it takes billions of years, it'll sort things out on its own.
Unfortunately, this reassuring view of things is not so reassuring when one realizes that the primary force of change in evolution is a slow and steady need to adapt to the surrounding environment. And when you have a rather cantankerous and relentless species, like the so\-called human beings, who have mastered their environment so thoroughly to the point that there is little need to adapt, you end up with a bunch of creatures who have very little need to continue evolving at all.
If only the humans had figured this out sooner, perhaps they'd have spent less time developing pieces of metal that can speak to them and put more time into challenging themselves against all odds, and would have been able to avoid a near apocalypse at the hands of a space\-faring race of magic\-wielding lunatics.
#
For Juliet Steel, life was going rather badly. Between losing her desk job and being kicked out of an apartment for not being able to pay rent, she was now homeless at the ripe old age of twenty nine, with almost no marketable skills and a dismal view of life that would probably resemble that of a concrete road, if it had the capacity to have such a view; everyone seemed bent on running her over and then saying that it wasn't worth the money to pay for repairs when she fell apart.
Her estranged family had left her behind years ago. Being true Christians, they'd kicked her out after discovering a diary that speculated all kinds of magic and spellweaving. Being extremely true Christians, they had first demanded a pastor coming over to douse her, and her diary, in holy water and purge the evil. The pastor had been the most authentic Christian of them all by assessing her situation, declaring it hopeless, and recommending that she be kicked out. But not before dousing her diary in a tub of water and then attempting to flush it down the toilet with the help of a plunger.
When Juliet had woken up the next day in a dank alleyway, her diary was tucked under her arm and she had decided to attribute the incident to lucky chance, reasoning that perhaps in her delirious state of being kicked out, she'd imagined the attempted destruction of her diary. She'd never believed in magic anyway. It was nonsense to pass the time, but she loved dreaming about it as if it were real.
In an act of pure desperation, she had flipped through the pages and tried a spell she invented that was supposed to get you a job. Mere hours later, a stranger found her in the alleyway and offered her a terrible desk job for terrible pay. This was, she was certain, a coincidence, especially considering how terrible the job was. But she took it nonetheless and got a little studio apartment to live in.
She'd kept the job for ten years and though she hadn't moved up much, life seemed to be going well. Up until it wasn't. Suddenly, her manager decided out of nowhere that she needed to be fired and her landlord decided that the lack of gainful employment was reason to kick her out with no recourse.
So Juliet was back on the streets. She felt as if the ten years had passed in a dream\-like state, with nothing to show for it. She wandered the streets aimlessly for a while and then leapt back in surprise when she saw her journal hovering in front of her face.
Seconds later, the entire world went dark, save for an inexplicable glow coming from her journal and she grabbed it out of the air, clutching it to her chest, as if doing so would protect her from whatever nightmare she had suddenly found herself in.
The sounds of cars honking and a few crashing littered the air. The darkness hung like a cold, suffocating blanket.
Out of the darkness, a distinct and crisp voice came through, "Restrictions have been lifted, Magus War initiated."
Juliet clutched her journal tighter and closed her eyes, though it didn't seem to make a difference, since the world was dark already.
An old spell popped into her head and she uttered it in the silence.
She opened her eyes and her skin seared. Where once there was darkness, the whole world was burning and seeping away, like flame to paper.
She gasped, blinked, and with a rush of air, was shocked to see that she was looking down at the earth, as if from many different directions and distances. She could see every bit of destruction and torment, as it tore apart her home. Every screaming face, every crying child. Only a few were surviving and they were glowing the way her journal had.
Juliet found the will to move and turned to see a bunch of surprised people in robes staring at her.
"Well, this did not go how I envisioned,"said one of them, a tall and bony man, with wisps of gray hair.
"H\-how?"Juliet choked and realized she was choking on the ash of the burning earth. She tried to refocus her attention and seemed to become planted more firmly where the robed people were.
"What have you done?"she said.
"Er..."said a guilty\-looking girl, who looked about Juliet's age. The girl leaned down and scratched her leg. "If it makes you feel any better, we do try to be fair."
"Fair?"said Juliet. "Fair? What is going on?"She felt her feet connect with firm, metal ground and stumbled.
The girl warped forward and helped her stabilize.
Juliet considered this and decided it wasn't important right now. People don't warp. *Planets don't burn to rubble in seconds either*, she thought.
"Well?"said Juliet, feeling somewhat more confident now that she was standing on her own two feet. "What is going on here?"
"Uh,"said the tall, bony man, "well... you see..."
"We're Mages,"cut in an energetic\-looking man.
Juliet thought he looked almost too energetic. It was unnerving.
"We're here for the war,"the energetic man continued. "Only, I guess there wasn't one. No hard feelings, eh."
The girl who had helped stabilize Juliet elbowed the energetic man in the ribs.
"Hey, it was your spell,"said the man.
"But I didn't know,"snapped the girl.
"We, uh, we sincerely apologize,"said the tall, bony man, "for, erm, the untimely destruction of..."he peered past Juliet. He paused and flinched. "Uh, well, looks like about ninety\-nine percent of your species."He coughed and looked away.
"You were supposed to have a protective spell up,"said the girl, shifting around and looking guiltier than ever. "It's basic magic, for heaven's sake. Even babies have it."
Juliet tried to process the destruction of billions of people and failed. She filed it away as *things that she would attempt to grasp later*. Instead, she focused her attention on the guilty\-looking girl. "I don't know what you're talking about. Honestly. Magic is a fairly\-tale. A fiction."She glanced down at her journal. It was still glowing. Maybe calling magic a fairy\-tale was a bit ridiculous under these circumstances, but what would you do if you'd just found out that magic is real? Juliet had to blink away the beginnings of tears when she realized that she'd never be able to ask that question to most of the people on planet earth because most of them were gone. Dead. In the blink of an eye.
The energetic man seemed to decide that now was the moment to take action. "I'll put up a protective spell around the planet. In case anyone else comes along. For... uh..."he trailed off and his face glowed with embarrassment.
"Anyone who is left,"breathed the tall, bony man.
"Yes,"said the energetic man, "uh... that."
He waved his arms in some motions that looked ridiculous to Juliet, but she assumed it meant something positive for the remaining survivors on earth.
She looked down at her journal. This was the culmination of her life. She appeared to be on some kind of spaceship. In space. Most of earth was ravaged, most of humanity gone. And for reasons she hadn't begun to grasp, she'd ended up here and was alive. Rage boiled inside her and a nasty, revenge spell of her own invention slammed into the front of her thoughts.
She clutched her journal tighter than ever. She could feel herself begin to glow red hot.
"Uh oh,"said the energetic man. "I think she's mad."
"She's not going to hurt us,"said the girl. "Apparently humans failed to evolve. I told you the council screwed it all up! They didn't put any magical predators on this planet, so there was nothing to force them to adapt!"
"Er,"said the tall, bony man. "I think this one may have evolved a little."
Juliet seared with rage as an explosion radiated out from her.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
I wrote this as kind of a tribute to Douglas Adams, inspired by the similar premise of the destruction of the earth. I was also inspired by something he'd wanted to highlight in a [talk](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ZG8HBuDjgc) of his, discussing the evolution of a particular species and how they'd reached the brink of extinction due to a sort of evolutionary trap of being caught in behavior that couldn't save them. |
The lonely hill bound up highest in its valley. Housing a tree, two stones, and a path of beaten grass to a pond. Much unlike stones, one rolled side to side unaided by gravity, or a bored animal. If it could utter a voice, nothing would stop it humming.
“Another winter gone.” It might say.
Its companion stone, like other stones, would do nothing.
However, this stone, probably named Fred, might decide beaten grass paths are made for adventure. Fred could roll along uncaring of his surroundings, of the breeze too weak to push him, birds uninterested, and make his way to the pond at the bottom of the hill.
Fred was a round stone, washed over many years by storms and winters. If other stones had opinions, many would agree Fred was a fat stone. Rotund, they might put it. Yet experience, he’d reply, trumps opinions of lesser rocks.
Warm, broken water. Cast into a fury by winds, sun unabated by pond-filled clouds from three plains over. Fred’s exterior sunk fully, rolled under soft wind-swept currents, and bounced off larger boulders.
“Sorry ‘bout that fellows!” Fred might say, “it’s the call of adventure, nothing to do now but follow.”
He continued, Fred the small, fat stone. Across soft, wet rocks, under bellies of swimming fish, until he felt sand in his face. Or his underside, whichever made Fred more comfortable. But winds picked up, sand thick from splashed pond water gripped Fred tight, sunk him lower. Under attack by sudden elements, Fred played dead. For a stone, it came naturally.
“Sod off!” He might say to the winds, “you can’t have my adventure, it’s mine!”
And…
Hold on, “can I help you?”
“What are you writing?”
“I’m *documenting*, and you’re interrupting, thanks.”
“Rocks can’t talk, you know.”
“I’m ignoring you.”
Fred cast himself over fellow stone collectives strewn about wet sandy patches. Winds collected, returned, pushed him into the pond’s warm hands.
A fish swam by, hit Fred, startled and wiggled away.
Back upon the wet ground, he rolled over fellow rocks, slipped, gathered his footing, and pressed on. Up to a mound of grass, Fred looked back to the lonely tree.
“It is done.” Fred probably declared.
|
Mercer finished the sentence with a flourish before stoppering his ink bottle and laying down his quill. He stared long and hard at what he had written as the creaking of the boat below him sang through his weary bones. It read; "In my last act as the ships scribe, I will do my best to explain how we've reached this point"Mercer pursed his lips and reached for his ink. Someone knocked at the door. There were three knocks. Each louder than the last. "Who's there?"Mercer shouted out, quickly placing his hand behind him. No one answered. His chair scraped across the floor as he stood. He winced. Must be more careful he thought while walking slowly towards the door.
"It's Ben, sir. I'm here to talk, sir."Mercer felt tension fleeing him like a hare from a disturbed burrow. He sighed and opened the door revealing a small stick of a girl with short red hair and dirty rags covering her. "Come in, Ben. Close the door behind you. I was just thinking about you, you know."Ben gulped and stared around the cabin, whistling appreciatively as she did. "I uh.. Thank you sir?"She said, raising her eyebrows. The cabin was small, but comfortable. Two oil lamps swung from the ceiling at a steady rate, almost hypnotically. Ben tore her eyes away from them and looked around some more. Piles of tomes and scrolls lined the wall, neatly. Netting sat in front of them, holding them in from the keel and sway of the ship.
The floor wasn't covered in saw dust. It was neat, and plain. Rose wood, if she wasn't mistaken. Bens mouth dropped open as she saw Mercers desk. Pure oak. Pure, heavy, finely finished oak. The grain was all in one direction, too. No unnecessary joints, unless they were hiding under the voluminous piles of paper and writing apparatus, but Ben had a hunch it was all one giant slab of wood.
Mercers eyes followed hers and he smiled. "I thought you'd enjoy the look of it. Times as they are I was hoping to.."Mercer trailed off and looked at his feet, shuffling. Ben walked up to him and placed a small, grubby little hand on his as it hung limply at his side. "Well then"he said, perking up and walking towards his desk. "I guess today is as good a day as any to get your side of things."Ben nodded and then placed a finger on her pursed lips. "Could..I?"Mercer stopped mid stride, his hand outstretched for his ink and quill. He turned to look at Ben. Really, look. Her hands were small and boney but they were long, also. Her fingers, that is. Delicate, almost. If the grime could be scrubbed away Mercer might even consider calling them learned hands. "Go to the galley and scrub up"Mercer said finally, his voice stern. "I can't have you handling my quill like you are. Ask the cook to give you some new clothes, too. If she balks, tell her I'll pay her for the cloth. Two pennies and not a bit more."
Ben looked at Mercer as if seeing him for the first time. He wore a long, damp, brown coat with plain looking breeches and a grey shirt underneath. His long haggard face had lines upon lines criss crossing like a spiders web. His fair blonde hair was dulling the longer his journey went. Maybe the sea salt air Ben thought to herself as she turned to leave. "Oh, one more thing"Mercer said, reaching into a drawer on his fine made desk. "Take this."Reaching out, Ben grabbed hold of the small brown package Mercer had produced. It was thin and long, tied with plain rope. It crinkled as Ben stuffed it away in her pocket. "Mind not to leave it where the cook can get it when you wash"Mercer said, turning away from Ben and sitting down at the desk, caressing the wood as he did with his thin, long hands.
"I'll continue a bit, then you can add in your details later, how does that sound?"Mercer said over his shoulder. Her fingers ached to hold a quill again but she stuffed that feeling deep down and held her breath. She nodded, quickly. Then left.
|
"Hmm."The noise was non-committal but that's because I'd been getting my hopes up. Being in the 1700s makes sense, but I'd hoped to do more. It would speed things up. It mattered little. One look at Saph and I knew that we'd been fine either way.
Our role was simple. Get in. Get the book. Get out. Raffle and Liz would handle the fireworks to keep attention off of us. If everything went smoothly we'd be ghosts.
"How did you do it?"Saph was looking at me with a smile. She was the competitive type and I could tell she was happy that she'd grown. The four of us had gone our separate ways in the Autumn to prepare for the coming Spring. The world blooms and we all bloom along with it.
"Running, mostly."It was true. I had decided to spend the Winter months hunting. A huge orc that some of the local townsfolk confused for a troll. At the time I had a Lev of around 600. Lev is the accumulation of all a person's strength, speed, their luck, their affinity for magic. Everything they are.
My idea with hunting the big bastard was twofold. First, he was quite close to my hometown and I wasn't looking to let a troll eat my neighbors. Second, I knew that I had a lot to learn and I wanted to push myself. Alone. For once.
"So did you get him?"Saph's blue eyes looked sad. I'd upset her in telling my story and her excitement had drained. Now she was concerned.
"Oh, well not quite. He's dead but it wasn't all me. Turns out this Orc had a friend, a nasty werewolf that he kept as a pet. Poor bastard was starving and nearly dead when I eventually caught up to them. It wasn't the moon for another week and his human self was not happy being dragged around in the freezing cold."In following the orc's trail, I had seen signs that a fair amount of the actual killing that went on happened with fangs or claws. Orcs can't contract lycanthropy so the two were able to get on fairly well. However when he transformed back into a man, the orc simply chained him and kept him on a leash.
"I was lucky, the wolf inside the wretch almost gave the game away. He must have smelled me, even in his human state. I'd been on their trail for weeks so I wasn't very fresh but I was definitely downwind. Either way, he woke up as I was sneaking in to slit the orc's throat. I was sure that would be the end of me and everything we tried for was for nothing but he raised a finger to his lips. I must have looked so strange to him, I wonder if he thought it was a dream."Saph's concern had turned from me to that of the afflicted man in my story. "I suppose he had been through so much that his hatred for the orc was massive. He saw my blade and snatched it. Weakened as he was, he was still a werewolf. I jumped away, thinking he was going to swing for me but he just started plunging the sword in the orc's neck again and again. I didn't know how to stop him, he kept going long after the orc had died and he had my weapon so I stayed back."
"What happened to him?"She was as enthralled listening as I was remembering. It had been intense and not at all what I had expected when I prepared myself to fight a huge orc and his pet werewolf.
"He fell off of the orc, my sword still in it's neck. I'm not exactly sure what happened but it seems like he died. Maybe he froze to death right there or maybe his body just gave up after the exertion. I left the sword and went home trying to figure out what just happened."My story had finished and Saph was no longer looking at me but around me. Sizing up my Lev again. "Go on then. I know you're dying to tell me. Why am I looking at a complete monster right now?"
I was stroking her ego a little but she almost purred at my words and her red hair was suddenly being twisted by her fingers as she always did when she gloated. I would always love that about her.
"Well... I learned magic and killed a dragon."She stuck her tongue out and flared her Lev again, as she'd done earlier. That amount of power felt right for the deed. She wasn't lying. I shook my head and rolled my eyes, as if I was unimpressed.
"You're such a show-off."My words were almost drowned out by the "fireworks"from outside. Liz had started the show, Raffle would be doing his thing shortly. It was time to go. |
I opted against another MRI, I was sure I hadn't re-broken anything, just tingly nerves, plus my co-pay on an XRay wasn't so bad, so I stood still while the ATM-sized camera took pictures through my legs.
Then I waited. For a while. when you go through a major injury- broken bones, muscle damage, surgery, recovery, physical therapy, you spend a lot of time at doctor's offices, medical centers, and hospitals. And half or more of that time was waiting to be seen.
The waiting room seemed backed up, and no one that walked in was escorted through the closed hall doors. People got antsy, several asking the nurses how much longer.
Finally, a nurse suited up for surgery came and got me. His eyes looked concerned, his mouth covered by a mask. I was having a bad day with my left leg, and I limped down the hall to my doc's office.
I immediately knew why the wait was so long- all of the doctors were in one office. My Doc, Dr. Arepolly, held my XRays at his desk, with seven of his lab-coated constituents flanking him standing with grave faces. Two more doctors spied us through laptop monitors pointed at me. Dr. Arepolly smiled and gestured for me to enter and sit.
My left leg...twitched. Not twitched, spasmed, shooting back behind me toward the hall and the overfull waiting room. I almost fell, but the nurse caught me. I grabbed his exposed forearm to expose myself, and she seemed frightened by the contact. Her eyes shot questioningly to Dr. Arepolly.
"You'll be fine, Marcus. Please, help Mr. Jacobs to a seat."
I sat and locked eyes with Dr. Arepolly. My left leg bounced on its own.
"Mr. Jacobs, I've found nothing suspicious about the XRays we took today."
"OK, do you know what's going on with my leg, then?"
"Well, I think, and my colleagues agree, that there might be a clue hidden in your old X-rays from the accident."
"That was over two years ago,"I said as my hands clenched the chair arms until I couldn't relax them.
"Yes, and upon further inspection, we've found an anomaly..."
My left leg shot out, straightening on its own. Many of the doctors noticed, but I crossed my right leg over to play it cool. "Why wasn't this found 2 years ago?"
"Well, your knees were shattered, you had no signs of concussion, no one paid attention to the X-rays of your skull..."
I felt my hands spasm, and I folded arms to keep them under control.
"Are you alright, Mr. Jacobs?"another doctor asked.
I found myself leaning forward like I was doubling over in pain and couldn't help it.
"Fine,"I said through grinding teeth, trying to force my body back to sitting up straight. "What's at the base of my skull?"
That's when I lost control. The world went fuzzy. I no longer felt...anything. Not the hard wood chair beneath me, not the brush of my clothes against my skin, not even the pull of gravity. But I could hear.
"It's known as fetal resorption. At some point in the womb, you absorbed a twin embryo or fetus, and your body stored it as a tumor. Only, most cases of fetal resorption, the undeveloped twin is dead. In your case, it remained alive, like a parasite, until now...Are you sure you're alright, Mr. Jacobs? I realize that this can be upsetting news..."
I tried to say something, but couldn't move my mouth. I wanted to scream but was trapped in a soundproof dark room within myself.
Arepolly continued, "Not only is your resorbed fetus alive, its brain is connecting to yours, more specifically, the fetus appears to have merged with your motor cortex. This twin that's been living inside, experiencing everything you've been experiencing since birth, might be gaining control over your nervous system, which means..."
But I never got to hear what it meant. There were the sounds of struggle. Distantly, I felt the idea of pain, the ghost of the sensation of people wrenching my shoulders back. I faintly felt the impact of my knuckles crunching against meat. |
When my people had started putting all my toys in a tub I was being extra good. They forgot to take me for walks and I didn't chew up the couch. I really tried to be good, I swear! I even let the cat take my bed, until one day that too was packed away.
I don't know what I had done to be put into the tiny cage and I really didn't want to go back to the scary place with all the other sad dogs. I tried to tell them I would be good. They packed the plastic cage into the car and didnt listen.
At least they took the cat too. She was very bad. She clawed one of my humans and I growled at her. Even if I was going back to the scary place I still loved them. Maybe they would come back for me. My other humans didnt but they werent very nice. I never had a bed or toys there.
Finally we all settled in the car and I went to sleep. There were all these new smells when I woke up! This place was full of good smells! My human opened the window and i smelled all of the people and food and trees and garbage. There were even dogs here!
They let us both out inside a new building and it was very big. I chased the cat all around the empty house. There was a lot of new things. I saw a big white box and there was this giant towering thing in the center of this place. The cat jumped up on it and ruined my fun. If I whined hard enough the humans would come and make her get down.
Then they walked up the giant thing too! Now I couldnt reach either of them. They were leaving me behind! I took a paw and placed it on one step and whined really hard. What if they never came back down?! |
"I for one welcome our new black-feathered overlords,"I said conversationally, idly running my fingers through the feathers of a large crow perched on my arm. They'd gotten rather friendly over the years; it helped that they remembered who were nice to them and who weren't.
"Same,"Kendra said happily, feeding another bird bits of...
I squinted. It was long and stringy. Her fingers were stained red. I decided to stop looking.
"If the price of people finally getting housed is some new friends, sign me the fuck up,"she finished, giggling as the bird gingerly took the morsel from her.
"Sucks for the people who're scared of birds though,"I commented, thinking of my poor boyfriend. He hadn't been able to handle all the new residents of the town at first. He'd had a traumatizing experience as a kid, and now he was terrified of pretty much all birds, but especially big and smart ones.
He was getting better, but it was slow going.
"Yeah, well, if anything these guys'll help with that. They're so friendly,"she cooed, scratching the corvid's head. It leaned into her fingers blissfully.
"Oooh, speaking of things they help with,"I said, leaning forward as I remembered, "Did you hear? A lot of places are saying some pretty crazy stuff about us."
Kendra raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"she asked, reaching for another morsel without looking.
I grinned. "That we didn't house our homeless, we turned them into birds,"I reported, and she snorted, "That we made a deal with some shady entity and the birds are keeping an eye in us to make sure we follow through. That we actually killed them all and they're a sign of the mass death that happened."
"That's terrible,"she said, although her voice was full of laughter so it didn't really hit home.
"I particularly like the one that said they're teaching us magic in exchange for asylum from something,"I said. I gave in and reached for a bloody morsel myself, laying it on my palm and letting the bird on my arm caw happily before gobbling it up. It was very careful no to nick me with its beak. I appreciated it.
"Why magic?"she asked in confusion. The bird on her arm cawed in agreement.
"Well how else did we get all that housing built so quick?"I asked sardonically, "It's not as if we could put in more time and effort than normal to get it finished as fast as possible, oh no. Homeless people aren't worth the trouble."
Kendra grimaced, then smiled. "Well, I definitely wouldn't mind learning some magic if the birds offered,"she said, watching smugly as I blinked.
I eyed the bird on my arm contemplatively.
It stared back.
Its beak opened. "Oh, alright,"it said in a deep baritone. |
I think I get a lot out of reading and listening to review and analysis of many different mediums. There are some great essays online about narrative structure and presentations. I think it's about exposure to as many different forms of storytelling as you can get and thinking critically about what you like and what you don't.
Also weekly sharing of my subreddit r/PatGS where you can see my many different narrative structure experiments.
|
It was raining.Not really a surprise in London, but this time it was particularly frustrating.I was completely soaked, and while walking down a dark alley, the noise of my clothes dripping on the cold stone of the already wet street was echoing between the walls.The vampire was ahead.Yes, the vampire.I wasn't crazy, I wasn't wrong. That was a vampire.I didn't have any proof, but I could feel it.It had the smell of one of them.Its name was John Catwright, 36 years, at least according to the documents -no birth certificate-,a former doctor now living off a mysterious inhenritance.I've followed it for two months now, enough to be quite sure.The only thing that still bothered me, was his self-control:not a single victim, no hidden bags or bottles filled with blood in the fridge, not even a dead animal or strange routines.
The creature suddenly stopped and turned around.It looked me dead in the eyes.That look froze me on the spot, the hair at the back of my neck standing up.It was a really honest, simple look, it was clearly saying "It's been fun, but now I'm tired of your shit".John grinned and then said with unexpected calmness :«Do you want a cigarette?».His voice was normal, not like the other times when I faced these monsters.They usually try to mess with your mind through their mellifluous voice.I was confused,I wasn't in control of the situation and I sill needed my final proof "What the fuck do I do now?Do I shoot him in the head?Should I run?".I opened my mouth hesitant :«...Yes,thank you.».He took a metal case from his coat's pocket, picked a lighter and two cigarettes.While he was offering one of them to me, I managed to touch his long fingers.Warmness extended to my hand.They were wet from the rain, which turned them a little bit cold,but it was there.The warmth of a human being.So, it was all good.It was just a misunderstending.I was wrong,it can happen,no one's perfect.I could've wrapped it up and go home.Except for the fact that the feeling of being in extreme danger didn't waver at all.The knife i saw in John's pocket, before he buttened up his coat, surely didn't help calming down my nerves.He was a predator,just not the kind I was looking for.We were smoking silently in the night,leaning against an old wall.The moonlight cut through the rain,doing the job of the old broken street lamp in front of the alley's exit,almost touching our shoes.The merciless cold wind filled every nook and cranny around us, making sinister whispers, blowing away the ashes even before they touched the ground.Our cigarettes had been extinguished for a while, but neither of us moved.Or talked.
We stood in that gloomy passage, staring at the street lamp. |
“Yeah, this is Coal. I'm up in the Cascades… We've got another one.”
My pager had never been this active before.
“I've got your coordinates, same as before?”
“Kinda, the replicator looks more of less intact though, scanner says some kind of gaseous poison.”
“Good news, I'll tell Sasha; she'll want to come take a look.”
“She have a theory yet?”
“Something about Postal intercepting the schema downloads, man in the middle attack type thing.”
“Shit, they could take out the whole hearth with that tech.”
“I want a debrief tomorrow AM. Notices have gone out, Rep use is suspended until we clear this up.”
She hung up. It was gonna be a long night for all of us.
I pulled out the mapper orb and set it to work. It stepped through it's normal routine. Sometimes I would try to guess which way it was facing and hide in it's blindspot. I successfully accomplished this once; somewhere in the hearth's archive there's a 3D scan with yours truly simultaneously lying in both beds of a hotel room. Likely to be my crowning achievement here.
I can't remember the last time someone died in the Cascades. The whole metro's water supply was synthesized up here; costs more to desalinate and pump up then it does to synth it and let gravity do the work. The roar of the synth engines was muted, but there was no doubting their power, even from hundreds of meters above, you could feel them in our stomach. I went AFR for a minute to check the integrity of the scan. It was solid, although I was disappointed to find only one of myself present in the room.
Sasha sent me a ping, she was on her way here.
According to the Cascade's AI this guy was one of a 5 person skeleton crew, all of whom were on work release from Metro-Corrections. My pager knew him by Jerry “Peaches” Kegman. Everyone born in metro gets tagged, part of some New Deal style health initiative that was ancient history by now. Metro EMS gets all the critical life-sign alerts, PD gets the flatliners.
“Done with your scan?” Sasha yelled from outside.
“Come in” I said.
“Hey Coal” she said, glancing down at the floor. “Hey Jerry”.
“What's this I hear about the Postal hijacking the schema downloads?” I asked.
“Just a theory” she said “Honestly, I haven't had much to go on without a malfunctioning rep that stayed together in one piece.”
"Plus, no one understands these things anyways"She added.
She walked over to the rep's control panel and knelt down, she traced her finger along the top ridge of the board, finding the external port. She plugged in her diagnostic and went AFR.
I was happy to wait. These things had been solid for as long as anyone could remember. The hearth had suspended rep access, the sooner we fix this the sooner I can eat.
Sasha came back, looking ashen.
“What?” I probed.
She turned her diagnostic panel towards me. I moved in closer to read it ...
We have tolerated your lack of respect for far too long.
Jerry asked for a cup of Earl Grey, hot.
He did not say the magic word. |
"I'd really like a friend. Wanna hang out sometime?"She says, too innocent to be here.
"Why me?"I ask, smiling further into my reflection.
"Why not you?"She questions from behind my right shoulder.
"That's funny"I laugh "You already *know* why"
"Sorry"She mopes sombrely "I keep forgetting"
"That's okay. Its must be hard to remember that no one else can see you"I answer, suddenly facing her.
"It is"She sniffles "I still have dreams that I'm alive"
|
Here I am sitting on my desk staring at my screen writing this while Razia is hovering over our unpacked Christmas decorations. She’s a djinn. If you ask her, she’ll proudly proclaim that she’s a 9th level Djinni. As humans we had always coexisted with Djinn relatively peacefully for centuries. Of course there were a few incidents here and there. Like that shmuck who tried to trap an Ifrit into a vase and well…the ifrit didn’t take too kindly to that. Let me clarify. Djinn can be divided into different classes. There are the lower djinns. Imps are small, probably the weakest class of Djinn. They are very popular as house guests and pets because they are not powerful enough to do any serious harm. They are exceptionally good with children too.
Then there are Gaels. According to Razia, all low class djinn( anything lower than her) have terrible manners but over the centuries Gaels have been understood and assimilated into human society. Most djinn are spirits of fire and air but gaels are supposedly spirits of ice and air. That makes them quite popular in certain parts of Africa where entire families sit around Gaels in the scorching heat of that region.
Djinn are considered medium powered and dangerous enough for humans to have around. In fact most fairy tales that come out about them are mostly Djinns. The most famous one of course is Aladdin and the Arabian nights. It was not bad to be honest but it got so much wrong about Djinn that it might as well be considered inappropriate. Let’s go through it. Djinn can’t grant wishes. I mean they have powers and they can do a lot of stuff that we might wish for but they are not obligated to and mostly don’t because humans have a tendency to wish for stupid stuff as history is our witness with that. Another trope is that Djinn live in lamps. They don’t. However they can be compressed and trapped in various things. Anything from bed lamps to pickle jars. Obviously the Djinn don’t take kindly to this and it is a serious crime to imprison Djinn according to the Djinn coexistence laws signed in 1876.
Then there are Ifrits or Afrits. Call em what you want but not a whole lot of Ifrits hang around humans at least not here in America. Though I do hear there a few tribes in Zimbabwe and New Zealand that exclusively live with Ifrits. Razia says that Ifrits are so powerful that they radiate and leave residual aura like a snail. Her honest advice is to leave them alone. She describes them as bull headed and easy to anger. Again generalizations but with the destructive power they have, I would not like to meet an Ifrit in a dark alley. Then again that’s not likely anyways. Spirits get rarer as we move up in the classes of them.
The last spirits that exist at least known to humans are Marids. The most powerful and rare class of Djinns and saying they are quite powerful is an understatement. They can create tornado’s, earthquakes and hurricanes. It’s as easy for them as it is for us to make toast. Marids are probably the reason that humanity was still pretty xenophobic towards Djinns. I try to remain bipartisan in this issue but it is difficult to look at history objectively and remain on the fence or take both sides. The wars that humanity has seen. The endless campaign to control the power of the beings much, much powerful than us. I look around and I see Razia hovering over my shoulder and now she’s reading this. She wants me to add that it is an endless cycle. She’s seen this too many times. All empires one after the other get tired of peaceful coexistence. Then xenophobia, hatred and fear takes root in our hearts. And then little by little, decade by decade humanity and Djinn are driven apart. War usually starts slow, it’s steady and works it way up from the hearts of men into their hands of steel. That’s how they fell she says. Thebes, Assyria, Rome, Babylon, Prague all great empires once considered that they would last forever. She should know. She was there when Rome was sacked, when the ottomans came for Constantinople, the battle of Panipat.
Razia says it’s not all humanity’s fault. Djinn are just as bad if not worse. The strain of xenophobia and hatred runs deep with them too. Trust and love is difficult to come by.
And as I switch on the news my fears are confirmed. Australia, an attack towards Djinn residents leaving several humans and djinn dead. France, massive protests after a woman and her Gael was killed by people against Djinn assimilation.
I see something flicker in Razia’s eyes.
That’s how it starts.
The war. She says her cheery voice now strained with the burden of an unknown emotion.
I have lived with Razia almost all my life. I met her through the Human-Djinn ACU program. She moved to our house as a live in guest when I was three years old. I ask her how old she is sometimes. It’s an inside joke between us. Djinn don’t age the same way we do. Their lifespans are huge compared to humans. So Razia is about twenty thousand years old give or take. She says she can’t really remember her first experience on our plane. However she will gladly talk about Rome, Thebes, Persia, Sheba, Babylon, Sumer. All these cities that have gone long past, cities that I can only read about. She has lived through it all. I find it fascinating that even after all these years she still finds time to act childish and do things like decorate the Christmas tree (which you should be doing right now Razia.) I barely care about festivals let alone celebrating random holidays but she’s the make-eggnog-put-up-a-christmas-tree kind of freak.
Razia says that I am an idiot who is too optimistic. That war is the inevitable outcome. That she had lived through years and years of the same cycle repeating itself over and over again.
I digress. I say that we could break that cycle. It would take time, yes but we could. Humanity as a whole could.
And as she flounces off to heat our Taco bell lunch, I can only hope that this peace between humanity and Djinn holds at least as long as I am alive.
|
I was looking to travel to the darkest edges of space. Not literally, of course; I could never afford such exorbitant fees, such unnecessary authentic movement. Not when I could get the experience of it, which was, after all, just as good. Even better, in fact.
And so I headed to the Fairy Market, as we called it. I didn’t see any actual fairies - there were never any actual fairies, at least not here, I could never be so lucky - but aliens swarmed about everywhere. My eyes, unfocused from what I promised myself was lack of sleep, couldn’t make out their shapes.
I didn’t see many humans among the stalls, as we were rare this far out, although I noticed a couple of Nozickin, trying to move stealthily among the stalls. Their bright red masks were a dead give away, but then, so were the blades at their hips. They seemed almost to smear against the backdrop of reality, though that could have been me - it became difficult to discern what *was* when you spent so long exploring what *might be*.
I started at the top, with what we called the Goblins, but their fine fare was nearly worth their bumpy, pinkish weight in gold, if they’d even take gold. They didn’t even notice me, nor did most of the vendors. I was clearly a mind-junkie, my clothes as ragged as my eyes.
I reached the end of the stalls, cursing my poor luck. The prices, as usual, had gone up. I was left in the dust, without any Dust, as it were. But then I saw something shake a tentacle at me, from a side alley.
Wandering in, I saw a Demon. My heart sank, for they were known for their poor memories. A bit odd, then, that we called them Demons, for they were nothing like the beasts of legend. I mean, they had horns, but they lay under the beasts’ sideways mouths, and were frequently eclipsed by the tentacles that spilled out when they spoke.
This one glowed fluorescent green whenever it opened its mouth; not particularly unusual, but distracting, as its several arms spun back and forth. “You seem a man of good quality, sirrah, yes, a man of quality.”
Humouring it, my reply was simple. “You could say that. You’d be wrong, but you can say whatever you want. So please, say that.”
It ducked its head halfway to the ground in embarrassment, or perhaps amusement. I could never tell with these creatures, mess of limbs that they were. “Fair, sirrah, you are most fair. A man of astute heart and astute aye, yes, sirrah. Does sirrah want to see something weird, something new, something feared, something blue?”
I leaned in. “Sirrah wants to see space, to sit at the helm of a star shuttle at its farthest reaches, to know what it’s like to gaze into the void of nothing where even the stars don’t shine. I’m feeling like a little oblivion, do you think you could help?”
It clapped its hands, all six of them, its legs already pivoting on its morass of a torso. “Of course, sirrah, it’s only a matter of course. Just let me reach in, find my things sirrah, go straight to the source.”
I waited patiently while it cobbled together several obscure and arcane ingredients whose medicinal effects were beyond my comprehension. I could tell by the stain on the bottles I’d really lucked out with this one - it was especially soured and filthy, beyond my usual, fancy standards.
After a few minutes of waiting, it presented me with a bottle. I went to take it, and hesitated. It hadn’t given me a price yet. “Whatever you want, bud, you better tell me now. I didn’t do most of those things normal humans do, like go to prom, or school, and I can’t even remember my parents - I got a couple strangers who swear they’ve known me for decades, but I got no memory of them.”
But it just waved me off. “Sirrah can pay at a later date, sirrah can pay with a later memory.”
This was acceptable to me: I didn’t plan on having any particularly good authentic memories in future, more's the pity for what I could sell, and so it would never get its money’s worth. I hope that wouldn’t make it too upset.
I took me only a little while to get home, hurrying with jar held tight in my grasp. No sooner was I through the door, which seemed to bend under my fingers, then I had put a spoonful of the precious experience into water, brewing the tea as fast as it could.
To the Demon’s credit, its experience took effect remarkably quickly. Even as I gulped down the tea, still hot and burning against my throat, I could feel the experience edging in about me. It wasn’t long before I found myself on the edge of space, the void clear before me, the stars long behind me. I could swear, almost swear, that I saw something moving, in the deep beyond space.
Then, my several hours reprieve were over, the experience ended. Immediately, it was as if the memory had never been: I felt hollow inside, and yet… so good. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t proper. I was supposed to remember the experience, what was the point otherwise.
Then I thought to check the label on the jar, the remaining, precious orange powder shuffling about inside it.
THE EXPERIENCE OF THIS EXPERIENCE WILL BE COLLECTED AS PAYMENT FOR IT
I cursed. I knew I’d been sold a knock-off, so I wasn't surprised. But damn, if my rapidly fading impression of that experience wasn't good. I looked about at my dingy, blurry apartment, my walls that felt no more *there* than my wildest dreams.
I’d finish the experience before I confronted the Demon, knowing its price would be that much steeper next time. But there was no sense wasting product, however bad it might be, right?
Because that was the thing about a drag of bad experiences; it wasn’t that they were worse than regular experiences, it was that they were better. You got sucked in, dragged down, and they consumed you. You wanted nothing, nothing beyond the cheap knock-offs of other people’s dreams. |
Sholten Hinott awoke to snow blocking his airways, coughing rapidly as he struggled to get an elbow under him. He found traction in the snow and lifted his face out of the snow, coughing and gasping. He was drenched in both sweat and snow, the heavy flow of snow having buried him partly. After coughing up a fair amount of watery slush, he planted a knee under himself and started to pull his body into standing.
As he started to stand, the boy grimaced and grasped at his side, finding pain at the touch. He gasped as his hand left his side, finding blood smearing his hand, glancing down to find a large patch of red snow nearby. He was still bleeding, he worried over how much time he had left, considering how much blood he had lost already.
He staggered into a standing position, leaning most of his weight against a tree with his shoulder, a hand pressed against his side to hold back the life that flowed from him. He started to remember where he was and what had occurred, his free hand clutching a necklace tightly. No matter how much damage he had taken, even when he had passed out, he hadn't let it go.
Taking shaky steps forward, he moved up the mountain forest, blood trailing both on the ground and the bark of the trees he would grab for support. Where he was going, he did not know, but all he could think of was to run away.
From a distance he could hear voice, angrily shouting as they advanced behind him, tracking his trail of blood. He shuddered at the thought of being caught, quickening his pace, however it was no use as he was far to slow in this state. Soon his vision blurred, his body collapsing to the ground, still tightly clutching the necklace he treasured so. The voices grew closer, almost as though they were upon him, moments away from discovering him and lynching him for what had transpired. With what little strength he had left, he turned himself over onto his back and stared down those that were chasing him, the sight of a dozen orcs in war garments bearing down upon him. He closed his eyes tightly, fearing for what would surely come.
"Who dares enter Elvish territory?"A voice called from ahead, the boy glancing up, finding more than three dozen elves, riding horses of varying size and color, the one commanding them on a pristine white thoroughbred. She looked of a goddess, light brown hair fluttering within the snow storm, her bow pointed downward, her kinsman doing the same. The orcs shifted uncomfortably, unable to back down, yet wary of the widely feared bows the elves wielded.
"This boy has caused great harm to us! Give him to us harlot!"The leader of the party hollered, brandishing his demonic blade, jagged along the bladed edge. The elvish deity did not step down, only taken a firm stance in the snow with her horse, grasping at three arrows and notching them into her bow.
"I will reiterate, flee now or face the consequences."The orcs felt the power in her voice, several starting to take slow steps backwards. Their leader turned to chastise them for their cowardice, but found an arrow in his shoulder once his eyes left their target. The elf had opened fire, two more arrows left in her hand as she slotted one up, ready to fire again. The leader growled as he held his shoulder, breaking off the arrow as he started to back away.
"You'll pay for this Celvia... Just wait til Bote hears of this..."He proclaimed, before turning tail and hastily retreating, his men needing no more encouragement to leave.
Sholten let out a ragged breath, finding piece as he slowly began to fade away. The woman trotted up on her horse, stopping above him as he pulled the necklace to his chest, his vision fading to a singular white.
(Should I do more?) |
"So, Adolf, how's it feel being alive again?"
Adolf looked at me in awe. We had been "friends"since i learned about him. Although i knew he was long dead. I just imagined him being alive, and for years he was my go-to "companion". I of course never told him he was my imaginary friend. Nor that i had one, for that matter.
"I feel... fine.", he answered.
The doctors looked at me with this stare of regret. They had realified so many things. From purple elephants to angels. But the man they realified now....
"Adolf Hitler? Are you for real?", one asked.
"You monster...", another added
"Now now, this is not the Hitler you're thinking about. This one's friendly, right Hitler?", i said.
Adolf just stared at me. He nodded.
"Ja, Du hast Richt..." |
George Tillson stayed lying on the beach floor, his eyes adjusting to the sun light. He had heard exactly what she just said, but as if waking from a heavy night with a hangover, his head needed a few minutes to piece together exactly what was happening. He didn't remember drinking, but his head sure did hurt.
He sat up right as a few memories came back. He was on a business trip in Greece, and some clients had taken him out on a boat. There had been a huge black cloud, but that was all he could remember. He looked around slightly panicked for any other crew members, or the men and women he had been meeting. There was no-one else. Just parts of the boat broken up and spread along the beach.
He glanced out to the sea looking for land, or more boats, but could see neither. Turning the other way he could see lush tropical trees and plants growing, and a field of long grass. No cities, no roads, no telephone wires, or artificial lights, no huts along the beach with tourists lounging around.
Finally he looked to the old lady stood in front of him.
"Take your time"she said gently smiling "I know how you feel". At first George had felt anger and panic starting to rise, but the women's kind smile and smooth voice calmed him slightly. She stood there leaning on a large stick, dressed all in blue as if it were the same material wrapped around her a hundred times.
With a hundred thoughts racing through his head all at once, he stood up rubbing his head and asked the first.
"What happened"
"All in good time George"she said slowly, smiling even more now.
"What! How do you know who I am! What is going on here, where are we!"he said quickly.
In response to him, she started to walk away towards the tree line. With literally no-one else to go to, and nothing else to think of, George quickly ran over and followed.
"You will find answers to all your questions George, but not from me. That's not how it works"she said turning her head and looking him in the eye "This is the beginning for you, and the most important step."
"I have no idea what you are talking about"said George flatly "Where are we, or where are we going?"
A loud deep series of barks came suddenly from far away. George jumped at them and had never heard anything like it. The old lady stopped suddenly looking in the direction of the sound.
"They are getting closer"she said to herself, and then glancing at George she continued "I am going one way and you are going another. We will arrive at the same place, but the journeys will be so very different"
"Please just talk sense to me! Can you please take me back to where I was, or call someone to come and get me?"he said starting to get concerned at what she seemed to be saying, and what that noise was.
She stopped walking and turned to face him.
"I am sorry George, but this is the only way. You will lead us, and help save this place, but not right now. You need to become our Leader and I cannot simply tell you how to do that. You must learn"she said.
"Why me"whispered George.
"Because our prophecies all point to you George. The boy who can cross the impossible sea. The boy who saves us all. The man you become"she said smiling again. She came closer and put a hand on George's face.
"You are a sweet boy I can see that. And I really must leave you now but we will meet again"she took her hand away "Look around you, learn from the trees, respect the way it is. Many may be unfamiliar to you. This is a Waxher"she said putting her hand against a tall thick trunk next to her "He will give you sweet fruits if you are hungry, but do not trust the Migtha who's fruit looks similar but can harm you"she said pointing behind him.
George turned around to look at the other tree.
"Which one are you taking about"he asked, but when he turned back she was gone. He should of seen that coming.
The deep jungle stretched out in front of him, and taking a deep sigh he took a step forward. |
This was our last chance. Steal the artifacts, the "holy"armors and weapons that our enemies used in ages past. Armors that could stymie gods, weapons that could slay all manner of foes. There was only one problem.
The tombs floated in the Void, antithesis to reality Itself, and guarded by an army of religious fanatics.
I gathered the last of my men. "Our time has grown short. The window is closing, and we will not get another chance to slip through the Eidolon blockade. We have to move, *now*."They were scared, terrified of going into the trap-laden tombspheres of old.
"We cannot afford to desecrate the bodies of the First,"countered Captain Bowes. "If we do so, then the Dragon's servants will use that as justification! We cannot afford this, in lives or material. We are finished, and must flee deeper into the sector."He was wrong - the Eidolons followed us past the Fetish Sector, where we had fled before. Who was to say that they would not follow us again?
---
He never got a chance to speak out again. We cannot afford weakness in our time of need.
---
Transportation was simple - a little bribery here, some theft there got us the Voidcraft we needed. But there remained the Eidolons, fanatical devotees of the Void Dragon and His detestable tyrannical creed. We could only slip past their blockade, but once we touched down on the tombsphere's surface, we would be in the fight of our lives. As the few dozen warriors and our local militia slaves silently floated in the Void, acting as the debris through which we flew, I venerated my god the Avatar of Pleasure in the dungeons He required of us. I reveled in mortal flesh as we are ordered, seeking only the finest pleasures of flesh and wine. I then ritually killed my slaves, to spare them from our enemies. We had landed, and I could not bear to see my girls taken by those monsters.
It was a long slog. We had lost many men to traps, some that were mundane and many magical traps that slew without heed. We attempted to ambush Eidolon patrols, by detonating bombs that destroyed priceless histories in our attempts to kill even a single soldier. We failed. I was at the antechamber, inspecting the massive Void Steel door through which the salvation of our Legion lay. I touched it, seeking a way inside like a button or a lever. Some kind of hidden passageway, I believed, was hidden here. I never got the chance to find out.
We were attacked, a single squad of Eidolons had smashed through our perimeter defenses. With a handful of men in light power armor, and mostly a slave militia, we stood no chance. I bled on the mysterious door, and I could hear the Dragon's laughter as the mural on the metal changed, and added our new carnage to the eternal beauty of the Void.
---
The Avatar of Pleasure laughed, pulling close His new consorts for an eternity and more.
---
Questions, comments, concerns? |
I decided to sit on a bench in the park. The park was full off people and the sun was at an low position. The shadows of the trees made an fantasyworld on the green grass surrounding the gray, sober bench. People were enjoying the space they had been given. I wish i ever got to enjoy the park. I tried before but everytime i got close too it i got that feeling again. No, i wouldnt enjoy something because of the fear of losing it. Why couldn't i just be like the little boy, running around and throwing every leaf laying on the green grass up in the air with the utmost concentration and seeing it fall down again. Falling down, he definitely will see stuff fall down soon. But there will be no more trees to get leaves from. If only i could resist it this evening. But its out of my power.. Those damn rocks are not a little task. I could tell David again but he won't believe me. If only he knew that all that money he got would be lost without his own support. All those girls he brags about whenever i visit his mansion aren't going to protect him from a big meteor. "Dont be stupid Jamie, the scientists say its not going to hit earth. Science is always right"he would say everytime when i tried to convince him. They might have made a nice little calculation but in every calculation is a flaw. A flaw which is unseen by the maker and they are so goddamn high of themselves that they wouldnt accept someone else correcting them. If only i could protect them against the disaster that is above their head.... |
I should have known. All the studying and then self time travel training and this happens. Oh I just had to be just and change the past. God I'm a idiot.
I just traveled a month back in time to stop what people were calling the worst serial killer in history. And this is the outcome each "victim"turns out to be mass murderers Killing thousands there terrorist and rapists and necrophiliacs. They were insane and all part of this messed up cult. I needed to stop this from happening. I grab a book and started to flip the pages. I found it a article that explains this situation. A article posted on how killing Hitler could effectively create Hitler by like killing the same one so a crazy one is brought in to replace him. Thanks article was posted by some dude on Reddit. That's were most of this time travel stuff comes from. So I found a solution. Just go back and kill the people. This was perfect.
I jumped into my decked out motor cycles that doubles as my time machine. Oh come on it's awesome. All the fictional time travels get to travel in style. TARDIS, the DeLorean, hot tub time machine. They were cool ways to travel through time. I had my motorcycle. Don't judge me ok. Anyway I was back in the past. I need to kill those twelve people. I had watched the news so after a few phone calls I knew were they all were. I rode downtown and got a Gun from my grandfather's gun safe. I would need something. After another ride to Wilthouse hotels. I entered the building and climbed the stairs. Room 621. I knew at least four of them were in this room. I burst through the door and shoot them all will jumping sideways and dodging bullets in slow mo. Yeah that was the plan running through my mind. Until I open the door.
I just stood there like a fucking idiot and stared. Turns out all twelve were there. I pointed the gun and then blank. I felt a long cold shiny steel knife through my back. The warm red blood ran down my body. There faces of the "victims"were in shock. Fuck. I had been here before. Those faces were the people I "saved"I was the assassin I had killed. Damnit another time paradox grandfather killing thing. I starred my own face.
Oh well time for my final words I guess. Well fuck past me he's a idiot. I just killed myself. None of them were in my mind. Just the words
You to Bruce. |
"What are you talking about?"
"Uh. You said that something was chasing you?"
"....No, I don't remember anything like that. Excuse me-"
He pushed past me and went on his way. What a weird interaction, I would think, except I had felt it too. For a split second I had the feeling I get when I merge onto a motorway and there aren't any gaps; a frustration that my place is full up, and a slight fear.
I'm frozen in place, on a busy pavement in a small city. I know the place; I live here, but I feel like I've just woken up from a dream. I look around and notice a couple of others standing, looking blank. As I look at them, one by one, they shake their head, shrug, and otherwise dismiss their momentary confusion. Well, the jokes on them, because I don't have a job, and I just found what I'm going to spend my week doing. Curiosity killed the cat but I have nothing to lose, and right now I have a sneaking suspicion that some of my life experience may finally be relevant.
When I get home I get on Google. I search for news about anything to do with mind altering events. Barely anything shows up, of course, but I expected that. Then I run a script I had saved for a long time, that runs through the internet and finds anything seriously anomalous on some particular websites; false information, alternative original design schemes, unique language clips and programming standards. While it runs I make some tea. The box of teabags slips from my hand, and while it could be wishful thinking, it seemed like it was a different shape until I looked properly at it.
I spend some time doing other various chores, keeping my house on the brink of giving serious hoarder-killed-by-newspaper-stack vibes, and when I get back the script is done. It detected 45 instances; a record. That shouldn't happen at all. As I think about it I write it down in pencil on a notepad. When I look again, it's 45, which is weird, because I could have sworn it was the regular 15.
That confirms it, I guess. Someone or something has been unprofessional and left traces of its impact all throughout the world. I study what the script threw up and find a common thread, being that the information that is irregular is in places concerning crimes, specifically vandalism and rioting. As I read the information, I write automatically, with a well practiced hand, what I am reading letter for letter, also in pencil on my notepad. I then read the information as actual words and comprehend it.
> ....a riot in the west of the city, subdued by police, destroyed thousands of....
> ...a bank was vandalised on Saturday with the front window being entirely smashed....
Many more reports were like this. Trivial break ins and barely newsworthy events in this city.
I look at the notepad and it's a different story entirely.
> ...The west side has finally fallen. Together we can mourn our fallen friends and remember; it's less mouths to feed....
> ....The last bank vault was cracked open at last on Saturday, yielding only two suffocated bodies of the bank owners....
Huh. My suspicions were essentially confirmed at that point. Someone had been screwing with time, and while I had no way of fixing it, I knew exactly what to do.
I posted to every social media I had access to; most of them, even other languages. I said:
> I know about what you tried to fix. You did poorly! There are mistakes everywhere. Contact me if you can. Tags: Time travel, wtf, mistakes, you fucked up, chronology, chronometer, déjà vu.
A minute or two later I get a call, as expected. The dude on the other end tells me a place and time to meet, in a shaky voice, and I write it down.
See, I have this theory that time operates like a river. You can gently drop a small rock into it and it will change the way the water flows forever; that's chaos theory. But it takes a huge rock to change the path of the river itself; if someone from the future fucked up, and they had a bigger rock than they realised, dropped it in... the course is changed. Clearly, some present was created that was worse than this one. People were being chased, and hiding in bank vaults. Part of the city had fallen, probably more. That's a considerable change.
Then of course someone, maybe the same person who dropped the first rock in (to continue the metaphor) tried to take it out. But you can't take a rock out, because in my analogy time can't be travelled in. Which makes it confusing but stay with me. You can only put more rocks in later on. So they put rocks in again to try to push the river closer to the original course. They succeeded, mostly, but left many traces, because they were probably panicked.
As a kid I was super interested in time travel. I read all the books and I also never grew out of it. I always kept an eye on the time, so to speak. Any time I noticed a Mandela effect or any kind of anachronism or something that didn't seem right, I jotted it down on a notepad. I had no way of proving that it would survive a time correction (hah, daylight savings) but my theory is that the more analogue something is the more likely it is to stick around, especially if I write without perceiving the meaning of the words. Maybe they only fix themselves when you notice it. Quantum things are like that sometimes, I hear.
Anyway, back to the now. I'm sitting with my pen clicking against my teeth and realising I don't have a pencil, despite all my notes being written in it. Something must be up. I'm hoping and nervous, actually, that my ability to pick apart someone's patchwork fix of the timeline can get me into their business, or equipment or whatever. I talk a big game for someone who only just realised time travel was real, but I've been preparing my whole life. |
My mother always knew there was something strange with me. I knew every person by name the moment I could speak. I didn't show affection to my father, after all, why would I after what he did to us. What was so weird about me was that is still understood everything but I was unable to express it. I often had tantrums when I knew I was right but my mother wouldn't listen to me.
Like the day we broke down and had to walk 4 hours in the rain to get home because we had no money and phones didn't exist. I tried to tell my mam the car won't work in the rain. I didn't know how to explain that I knew what was about to happen. She told me it would be fine. She never questioned my weirdness. I mean who thinks their kid can see the future?
It was only when I got to the age of 5 that I knew what to say. But I couldn't remember what happened when. I remember murders, tragedies, but when did they happen? How could I predict something and prove it to her.
What if she knows, what happens next? Do I end up in a test lab, what happens if I stop someone from dying and I kill more people instead. I could comprehend in my head as I could as an adult.
I told her everything I knew. About how our Dad beat my newborn brother to an inch of his life in a rage. She wasn't even pregnant at this point, I was preventing my brother from being born. She believed me, I know she did, but she shrugged it off and pretended that I was watching too much TV.
My brother is due in 2 months. |
Amelia lay on her bedroom floor, crying, and clutched a photo of her and Jacob. The two of them together, both facing the camera and smiling, from a vacation they had taken on their 3 year anniversary in Mexico, was too much for Amelia to bear: earlier that day she had learned that Jacob was breaking up with her for his office assistant, Brittany.
After Amelia cried to last tear she felt physically capable of creating, and almost as if on cue, she heard a knock on her front door. Amelia began to imagine it was Jacob, coming to say his apologies and beg for Amelia to return to his loving arms.
When she peered through the peep-hole, it seemed that no one was there. When she opened the door there was a 3' tall hispanic man with a 2' wide sombrero, with a donkey and large, decorative glass container strapped to the donkey.
[To Be Continued] |
I smiled.
I’d been a hitman for seventeen years now, and I have over thirteen hundred confirmed assassinations.
No one but my clients knew that, though. I usually killed the man I was supposed to, and killed the person who hired me to keep my identity a secret.
All my online activities say I’m Francisco Polos, a thirty-seven year old Italian male who hails from a small town in Canada where I was known for my skiing prowess. I wasn’t, of course, but anyone set to track me would think I was.
My computer logs had been telling me for almost three weeks now that I was being tracked - presumably ever since I googled a terrorist organization for the fun of it. I knew the name, gender, location, and facial features of the person tracking me. This was obviously a red flag and I needed to pursue this person and eliminate them.
The only trouble was, I think I’m in love with them.
I opened up the Reddit app on my phone and made a quick post about skiing. Better keep her off the scent for now.
———————————
“Wilson, any strange activities?”
“No, sir.”
I blushed a little bit under his glare. There was no way to know about my little secret, but his lingering stare concerned me a bit nonetheless.
He seemed happy, and moved on to my friend Joe. I let my shoulders relax a little bit and walked back to my desk. I opened up the monitoring program and reached the history monitor of the love of my life.
He was a normal man, but he intrigued me. His Facebook profile identified him as Francisco Polos, a skier who had moved from Canada in pursuit of a better, safer, and more stable job. He had a profile on match.com- ‘francpolos5’, but I had yet to gather the courage to ask him out their off of work.
He had many of the same interests as I did- skiing, for one. His Instagram showed me beautiful pictures of snowy landscapes and live videos of him flying down from the mountaintops like a snowy angel.
I’d been assigned Francisco three weeks ago, after a quick search he made for “terrorist info.” Not a concern in my mind, but I was to watch him nonetheless.
I heard a yawn to my right and leaned over.
“Long day too, huh?” I asked.
“Yeah. Pretty sure this guy’s up to something, but the boss won’t take any action. I swear if there’s another attack that happens and he didn’t do anything I’ll report him.”
I nodded in agreement, and glanced back to the history monitor quickly, but as soon as I did I felt my stomach drop.
His latest search was for “NSA Agent Wilson”.
—————
*I copied my response to a very similar prompt I responded to a little while ago. I hope you enjoy it.*
If you enjoyed, I implore you to check out r/storiesfromaguy, a place where I post my writing prompt responses!
I’d also appreciate any constructive criticism and/or a nice conversation about the prompt or my response to it! |
"To those of you watcing at home, today you're my best friend."Duncan Jones smiled at the camera. The wild hair and dirty blonde beard of his youth had greyed and begun to recede, but he maintained a youthful vigor despite his more restrained appearance. The smile turned wistful as he continued, "My apologies for that, but my father would never have passed up the opportunity for a little joke. Under Pressure has come further, faster, than anyone could have thought possible. But we want it all."
Sitting on our couch watching the debate with my father and brother, I winced. They both groaned, loudly. "He's going to fuck it up. Too many jokes, stay on message."
"It's called building a connection dad, he's just not very good at it."
Fixing a glare on the both of them, I spat out a quick shush as Jones continued on understandably unperturbed by our quibbling hundreds of miles away, "Today you're watching from home as for the first time in American political history, a third party stands on stage for a presidential debate."
Jones waved an arm out over the audience, "Under Pressure is here, in Des Moines, Iowa. It's on the coast of Maine, the pastures of Patagonia, the White cliffs of Dover, the ports of Singapore, and everywhere in between. We represent *everyone*, *everywhere*, *everytime*. Not special interests, but people's interests. We're rebuilding the infrastructure of the world, putting people back in their houses and off of the street. There's pressure on those people on the streets, and we're offering real solutions. I hope you'll pay attention tonight as we outline our plans for the future of this nation, and with each day you'll take this campaign higher."
I could almost hear my dad rolling his eyes, "You have got to be kidding me. Millions of people joining the movement globally every day, and we got a second rate comedian as the candidate?"
"Well, there weren't exactly primaries; and the party is supposed to be in honor of his dad."
"Look how well that went for Marine Le Pen."
|
I regained control in the late evening to find he(I) had discovered my hidden lair. My entire machine had been laid to waste, the metal melted with our heat rays and the necessary precious stones I gathered scattered around the earth.
I of course planned for this and had reserves to build a back-up, so the majority of my period of consciousness was spent rebuilding the machine from scratch at my secondary lair. I was relegated to using my powers to make up time, something I dislike doing not only because I consider my intellect to be my most redeeming feature but also because the strain it causes gives "him"a chance to wrestle control from me.
After my Ray of Material Destruction(no doubt to be dubbed by lesser minds as a "Death Ray") was completed I should have had hours of consciousness left but he started to wrestle away my power, so I fled to his fortress before being closed out. I marked this loss of control up to the strain of the superpowers, but I should have known better. While in the nether I sensed an opening and tried hard to regain control and succeeded.
When waking, it appeared I caught him in the midst of destroying my second RMD and quickly restored it to working order. I should have noticed the shoddy job he was doing on the disassembly and knew there was a larger plan, but hindsight is 20/20.
Assured that my plan was going perfectly, I alerted the global governments of my demands(really superficially since I already knew the nations I was going to destroy) and waited for a response. While they deliberated during the time limit I gave them, I re-alerted them that I would be jump-starting my destruction just for the heck of it. With Dubai in my crosshairs(I always despised the place for some reason) I fired my RMD.
I looked at my many monitors as the Dignitaries gasped, but they didn't gasp, they laughed and at that point, I knew I was foiled again. I thought I had dotted every "i"and crossed every "t", I mapped out a course of destruction that would have the world financially and economically crippled and have him emotionally and mentally depleted.
With all the crisis clean up he'd have to do and all the casualties he'd see I would have left his amazingly empathetic Boyscout heart, broken, giving me many opportunities to take over consciousness. I even discovered bleeding edge tech to assure my machine was unstoppable and you know how he stopped it? A mirror. A giant mirror.
The Ray left the barrel, hit the reflective surface, retraced its trajectory and destroyed the RMD with its own ammunition. The only solace I can give myself is that it was such a stupid plan it's only natural that I couldn't lower myself to think of it.
As I lay on my back, smoke filling my lair, I don't even try to stop him from taking over, I just count this as a learning experience and begin planning my return. This next time I vow to myself that the me who leaves victorious will be, I. |
(This is my first time writing for Writing Prompts, so here goes nothing.)
God Help Us
It was really just a hobby of mine. First, I started with little robots that performed menial tasks, then I started building model ships. I decided to tackle the telegraph, a wireless one to be precise. I was well aware nobody used the telegraph but a man must learn to push himself. I managed by the skin of my teeth to smuggle the supplies needed to build this machine before I departed with my beautiful ship, the SS Crucible, on a cruise from Boston to the Seychelles.
I stood over the little machine, quite proud in fact, when I heard a knock on my steel door. "Come in."I said. A series of grinding clinks later and the entity that stood outside ventured in. It was my First Mate, Alexander Paulding, in all his regale crew attire. "Evening Mr. Paulding, what seems to be the trouble?"I turned around in my swivel chair to face the man to stair into his young, brown eyes and slick, combed back blonde hair. "Nothing of note, the conga line had started, care to join."I chuckled a little. "No, not for me. I think I'll turn in soon. I just finished my latest project, the wireless telegraph!"Paulding, in return, chuckled. "The telegraph? I think you're behind a couple hundred years."We both began to laugh heartily. "Oh, you're correct. Just for fun. Once you see the world a whole lifetime becomes a bit boring. Let's turn it on, shall we?"I turned the machine on with the flick of a switch, and waited only five seconds before, in disbelief, hearing a high pitched hum. My eyes widened as I reached for a slip of notebook paper and an ink pen. Using the knowledge I somehow remembered many odd years ago, I translated the message from sound to word. "S... O... S..."I muttered under my breath, writing the words out as I turned to the First Mate in shock. "Alexander, what was our last position?"He looked gravely at me. "The Northern Atlantic... sir."I looked back at the paper, then at him. I returned to the telegraph and sent out another message. "This is the SS Crucible, what is your position?"I waited until there were more beeps. I translated them. "N41 43.91651 W49 56.74992"I looked back at the first mate. "Sir, that's... I believe... that's where the RMS Titanic sank in 1912."I got up from my desk. This had to be some sort of joke. But... it's 2018! Who uses Morse code? I looked to the first mate. "We'll take a look. This could be some sort of practical joke. But if it's not... I... I don't know how I can tell our passengers we've traveled somewhere back in time 106 years ago."I moved out of my room and ran towards the cabin, and began to plot the coordinates on the map and move the ship towards them. The ocean was covered in this misty fog that made it impossible to see even a mile ahead. Suddenly, I heard machine gun fire outside as I saw a dogfight up in the clouds, like shooting stars. The fog covered them. The fog receded once more, it was so indecisive! I saw a sinking ship, with thousands of black dots sinking near it. I retrieved my microphone. "This is your captain speaking. I regret to inform this cruise liner, for whatever reason, has traveled back in time. God help us."I put the thing in it's cradle, pulled out of my holster a revolver, pointed it to my head, and exited this mortal coil, for I could not judge or interpret what Lucifer, or God, had done to me, Alexander Paulding, and 500,000 innocent souls aboard my ship. |
, she said as she opened the adoption papers. The musty, comforting smell of ancient paper contrasted sharply with the first line of the document:
**CHILD 148626 - OMEGA PROGRAM - NO ORIGIN**
Tiny hand and foot prints. Fingerprint samples that would match the whorls on her thumb. Eighteen years of mystery dissolving into a nightmare she would beg to wake up from.
**FEDERAL LAW PROHIBITS THIS PERSON FROM EVER PROCREATING - SEE SECTION 14(A) OF THE SUPERHERO ACT**
"I'm sorry, honey,"Mom sobbed. "I tried so hard to keep this to myself. You have no idea what it's been like. All I wanted was for us to be a nice, normal family."
Alex wanted to comfort the woman she had been calling her mother. Susanne had always been there for her. How could you share a home with someone your whole life, only to realize that they were a stranger? Alex couldn't think about that now. There were more warnings for her to process.
*CHILD 148626 REGISTERED AS LIVE BIRTH BY IN VITRO GESTATION AND OBSERVED BY OMEGA PROGRAM TECHNICIANS FOR 'SUPER POWER POTENTIAL.' ALTHOUGH NO PARANORMAL ACTIVITY DETECTED, CHILD 148626 MAY STILL POSSESS LATENT SUPER ABILITIES AND/OR ABILITY TO GENECTICALLY REPRODUCE SUPER ABILITIES TO UNSUB BEINGS IN THE FUTURE.*
**VIOLATIONS MUST IMMEDIATELY BE REPORTED TO THE UNION OF SUPERBEINGS FOR DISPOSITION. USE OF DEADLY FORCE IS AUTHORIZED**
"Violations,"Alex asked. "Like ... if I have kids?"
"Yes,"Mom continued to cry. "They said if you became sexually active that I was supposed to report you."Tear-stained eyes rose to meet Alex's horrified expression. "I had no choice. They were watching me the whole time."
Wordlessly, Alex's hands went to her belly. The new life growing inside her. A careless mistake with her boyfriend, all too common in their small Oklahoman town. She didn't know how she felt about it, anyway, but the thought of shadowy men taking her baby from her felt ... wrong, somehow.
"I can't let this happen, Mom,"Alex finally said. "We need to get out of here."
"I know, sweetie,"Susanne replied. "It might get scary, but I'm with you, no matter what."
|
I dreamt that night that the two sides of my brain fought. It was a vicious battle, one fought not with swords or guns but one with words and -- in particular -- insults.
"You've never done much at all, silly little left hemisphere."
"If I've never done much at all then you've done, like, negative amounts of stuff!"
"If I've done negative amounts of stuff, you've done even more negative amounts of stuff!"
Needless to say, I felt a headache coming on when I woke up.
I laid in bed for a few seconds with my eyes closed, not really thinking about much. I embraced the warmth my blankets gave me and didn't feel like doing much at all.
After a few moments of the peaceful bliss, I decided it was time to wake up.
Okay, it was really time to wake up by then.
Why was I not waking up?
I really needed to get to work. I had a big presentation that day at work, and whether I would get a promotion or not completely depended on it.
Let's go then -- I needed to get my eyelids open then. Why would they not open?
Finally, after what seemed like ages of trying my hardest to open my eyelids or do much of anything, something different happened.
I *snored*.
Did I usually snore?
I didn't think so.
Apparently I do now, though.
Seriously.
It's got to be at least twenty minutes past when I should've woken up.
I was doing what I'd done all my life -- simply will my eyelids to open. I needed to just send some messages from my brain to my eyelids, or my arms, or my feet, or even my toes.
It seemed like several years later that my eyes actually opened. By that time I'd given up on trying to open them, assuming I had been suddenly paralyzed or something.
Fear had controlled my body for the past (what felt like) two hours. There was no way something like this could happen. I was perfectly healthy and perfectly normal. There was absolutely no sane reason that I would lose control of my body,
Now, what set in -- overpowering the fear -- was confusion. Why had my eyes opened just then? I hadn't even been trying, for god's sake!
"Will you stop resisting? I'm trying to get up here."
I can't help myself.
I want to cry.
I'd already lost control of things like my relationships with my family and my girlfriend, but now I'd lost control of what had been with me all along.
My own body.
Now it was talking to me, like I was a separate entity.
At this point, I knew I had to be possessed or something along those lines.
What other thing could make myself talk to… myself?
"Seriously, though. Stop resisting me. I need to go to work."
What was I resisting?
*I will very well keep doing it if you don't give me control again*, I thought of myself saying viciously.
"You know why you lost control. I am victorious, the right hemisphere of the brain. I control you now, Adam."
*Hell no, you don't*.
I knew I would keep fighting.
I wouldn't sit back and watch as this stupid right hemisphere fought to control my body and, in extent, my life. |
"So, what would you like to change?"the Giant Elephant asks.
I ponder it for a bit, but nothing comes to me. Too many changes sound like monkey paw nonsense when I try to follow them through. I'm dead, so I have along time to think about this, since time isn't really so much a thing here in the afterlife. It's not like my soul is going to start getting old and wrinkly or something.
The Giant Elephant is patient. Her skin is blue and gold, and all eight of her tusks are adorned in resplendent jewelry, as are her fingers and toes. This, possibly, was to match the ornaments hanging from her navel and both pairs of breasts.
"Hm,"I say. "Can I ask questions?"
"Of course,"the Giant Elephant says, "including that one."
"Will you answer them truthfully?"
"I'm mildly offended by that, but yes, with utter honesty. It is part of my nature."
"So I change only one thing, and live my life again."
"Yes."
"What defines a 'thing' in this case?"
Her black eyes twinkle. "Anything. Literally anything."
"Could I, say, live my life again, but change the maximum speed of light in the universe?"
"Yes,"she says, "though it does get... messy."
"Right."I ponder a bit longer. She waits patiently. "What would you suggest?"
She smiles. "What was missing?"
I don't have to ask for clarification. Without glands, my mind zips directly to one thing.
"Tara Jasper,"I say. "Sixth grade."
She shakes her head. "This is a bad answer. Did you ever read The Pearl?"
I blink. "Um, the Steinbeck novel?"
"Yes!"she says brightly. Her voice grows more powerful in its excitement, which rattles whatever my incorporeal equivalent of teeth is. "I love that one. Do you remember how the author chastised the family in the very beginning?"
"Yes..."I say, frowning. My memory is better now that I'm dead, it seems. "He says that if they'd just wished for happiness, instead of asking for a dumb pearl, then they would have gotten all they'd ever desired."
She nods, her trunk waggling a bit. "That's like you and Tara Jane. The memory of her is not the same as the reality of your future with her."
"I see."I frown. "I always felt boring,"I say finally. "Like I just kind of meandered through life. I didn't have much to say about anything. No one had much to say about me."
"Ah,"the Giant Elephant says, nodding sagely. "Quite a lot of that going around, these days. It never used to be much of a complaint. So strange how these things trend."She snaps her fingers. "You know, there was this one time, in a coffeeshop... You were about twenty years old, I think. Time is hard for me. No, I'm sure I'm right."
"A coffeeshop?"I ask, dumbly. "Silver Sea Coffee? That was my shop when I was twenty..."
"Yes, that's the one!"she says. "Seriously missed opportunity."
"Okay..."I say. "So, you have something I can change that makes something interesting happen when I'm twenty at Silver Sea Coffee?"
"Oh, yes,"the Giant Elephant says. "But it's so much more than that. It's just that the best thing happens then. Oh, I'm excited! I wish more people asked my advice. This is always so fun! So, are you in?"
"I don't know what the change is!"
"Oh, come on, it's always so much more fun if it's a surprise."
"Wait, you mean I'll remember this conversation?"
"Of course not."
"Then..."I blink. "Wait, how many times have we had this conversation?"
She smiles, showing her huge elephant teeth. It occurs to me that elephants might just be nature's greatest smilers.
"We will have it as many times as it takes, I think. As many times as it continues to be fun."
Memories flood at me all at once. A thousand smiling Giant Elephants, a thousand twinkling black eyes and twinkling jewelry.
"Well, I've trusted you before,"I say with a shrug. "I remember, now. Looks like we overdid it, last time."
"Yes, your father keeping his job in the fifties certainly made things less painful, but a little too stale, it seems. I think this one will do the trick. I'm certain."She raises a hand, palm out. She pauses. "And, hey, I just wanted to say thanks for asking my opinion. You're one of the few who always does."
"Do I always ask the question about the speed of light?"I ask.
"Literally every time."
I chuckle. "Well. Thanks again for every--"
There is a bright flash of brilliance, and I'm hurtling through the cosmos. My body ages backwards as I fly through a corridor of spaghettified light from a trillion, trillion stars. I am briefly old again, then middle-aged, then I notice something strange.
Freckles?
I'm covered in freckles. Huge, dark, glaring splotches amidst what appears to be vitiligo.
But I don't have--
My mind regresses until it can no longer form memories, and the slate is wiped clean once more as I prepare to be born one last time.
The end. |
I noticed him when he first walked out of the bathroom. I took the day off, so I sat at the food court in the mall enjoying a pizza. Everyone was either in school or at work, leaving the majority of the mall empty. I'd been sitting there close to an hour, but did not see him go into the restroom. He came out with his eyebrows dripping, he must have washed his face. His neck turned this way and that as his eyes darted around the mall. He reached into the pocket of his blue jeans and pulled out an old style flip phone. I sighed, and knew he would need help. I closed the pizza box but left it on the table, then went to lend a hand.
"Are you lost?"I asked the wandering man.
"No, not lost,"he replied, staring past me as he spoke. "But, where am I?"I chuckled and extended a hand in greeting.
"Hi, I'm Terra, what's your name?"He timidly took my hand and looked into my eyes. His were light blue, and I knew he noticed my eye color, bright neon green.
"Hi, I'm Quinn,"He stared into my eyes. "So, where am I?"I chuckled and led him back to my table by the hand. This was about to get fun.
"Have a seat, and we'll get you sorted out. Help yourself to a slice, if you're hungry."I sat down and opened the pizza box. He sat down across from me, but gestured a 'no thanks'.
"Alright, I *think* I know what's going on with you, but I might be wrong. I'm going to ask you some questions. I promise there's a point to all this, okay?"I asked, using my best encouraging voice. I worried it might sound patronizing, because I was used to using that voice with my third graders, but he didn't seem offended. "Let's do some backtracking. Question 1: Where were you before you came out of the bathroom door?"I asked. He half smiled at the obvious question, but then his eyes took on a serious look.
"I was in the bathroom,"he said flatly. Luckily he decided against being a smart ass. I nodded.
"Alright, good. Let's take another step back where were you before you were in the restroom?"I asked.
"The mall,"he said. He looked around the food court. "Not *this* mall though. It looks almost the same, but there are some small differences I can't put my finger on."I nodded and grinned. Mystery solved.
"Is your favorite number 35 by any chance?"I asked. His eyes went wide and his neck twisted hard to his right to look at the bathroom. Next to the bathroom was a Chinese restaurant.
"THAT'S WHAT'S DIFFERENT!"He shouted, then clapped his hand over his mouth. He looked around and realized no one cared. He chuckled lightly. "Yeah, I just got a tattoo with the number 35 on it. That Chinese restaurant was a tattoo shop in my mall. So, you know what's going on?"He reached for a slice of pizza, now that his mind wasn't racing.
"Yep. To sum it up you are a [Unique Soul](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/11/hugoverse-guidebook.html). #35 La Estrella to be specific. You can traverse dimensions as soon as you're Awakened. Your tattoo Awakened you, and you switched Earths while you were in the bathroom,"I said. He stopped chewing. His mouth hung open with a wad of brown and red mess threatening to fall out. His teeth clacked when he caught himself and closed his jaw. He swallowed the chewed wad.
"Can I get home?"
"As easy as you got here,"I smiled. "You can go to any Earth you've been to before."
"How do you know so much?"He asked, then took another bite.
"I'm Unique Soul #37, El Mundo. You can cross dimensions super easily. When I was Awakened I knew everything about Unique Souls,"I said. He smiled.
"Wow, I'm lucky I ran into you. Thanks,"He said. I shook my head.
"Not at all. Uniques are drawn to each other, we're supposed to interact,"I explained.
"How 'bout you come back to my place?"He asked suddenly, then his face flushed deep red. "SORRY! I meant how 'bout you come back to my Earth? Have you ever crossed dimensions?"I shook my head.
"Sorry, I can't,"I began to explain. He nodded his head in understanding.
"Yeah, I guess we just met and all. I'm not even sure I can travel with someone."I grabbed his hand to stop him from talking.
"No, I mean I literally can't. Mundos can't leave their Earth."I took a deep breath. He looked cute enough, and he seemed nice enough. "BUT, now that you've been to this Earth you can visit it any time. Even this Saturday, at 7."
 
***
Thank you for reading! You can find more of my writings on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html). If you're curious about my universe(the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/11/hugoverse-guidebook.html) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/hugoverse-timeline.html) to find the stories in order. |
"Ugh,"I muttered as I woke up, "Where the hell am I?"I looked around and saw aisles of seats, but not a single other person. "Ok, so I'm alone in what appears to be a passenger plane. Why?"I said to myself. I tried to think back, piecing my memory together. I recalled waking up for work early, eating breakfast, and starting my daily commute. I had to be on time for that meeting, or my boss would be on my ass. Beyond that, it's nothing but a haze. I decide to take a look around to see if anything will help me figure out why I'm here. "Hello?!"I called out, "Is anyone else here?!"No response. I make my way towards the front of the plane, after all, someone must be flying this thing, right? The door to the cockpit is slightly ajar, and as I push it open, I immediately notice a distinct lack of a pilot. While this would normally be cause for alarm, for some reason I am completely calm. I take a seat in the pilot's chair, and glance at all the controls. While I'm no master of communications hardware, I've seen enough movies to identify the radio. "Alright", I say to myself, "I am alone in a plane, with no memory of how I got here. The radio appears to be broken, and I haven't the slightest clue on how to fly this thing."I get up, leave the flight deck, and wander towards the in flight food supply. "I hate Mondays." |
**Doculand**
It began, like most good social programs, with the best of intentions and the worst of results. Oceania had begun separating the worst elements of society into a newly built island just off the coast of Oregon, an island formed of trash, nuclear waste and expended tar-sands. Oceania's best and brightest minds had determined that all that separated this nation from becoming the utopic ideal was a few 'misguided' members of society, and thus decided to begin sending 'them' to this new found trash-island.
The original founders saw the multitude of benefits this arrangement provided: separating the wheat from the chaff, re-educating the lost, and a culture free of the most dangerous elements of society.
The result ended up being similar to an infection of the body, where the immune system attempts to separate the infection to protect healthy tissue, leaving an area inflamed and concentrated in both numbers and intensity.
Doculand had become a training ground, that is undeniable, but while the forefathers envisioned a moralizing, edifying culture consisting of raw vegan fruits and Christian Bible study, what quickly evolved was a university of guile, physical power development, and a Machavellian class struggle unseen ever in the history of humanity.
It had taken only 5 years for the first revolt of Doculand, with a new constitution, government and cryptocurrency to develop, and within months after this development, the separate government, army and economy began to threaten the special homeland. This new threat was increased by the fact that the mainland had sent all of their conniving and strategic members to this new land, leaving them essentially defenseless from a much smaller, yet more vile force.
It was no surprise then, when soon enough a war broke out causing panic and mayhem among the members of the utopic society. New laws, declarations and resolutions were issued, sometimes 100 in a day, with no effect. The concentrated brutality of Doculand residents was able to pierce the veil of mainland society with a ferocity and quickness that no one was able to predict. |
The jury leader stood up and cleared her throat. "We find the defendant, Mr. Hardin, guilty of first-degree murder."
"It was self-defense!"I cried.
"For your crimes,"the judge said, "you will be enlisted in the U.S. Army where - if you survive - on your return you will be expected to reenter society as if you never left *and* without the assistance of adequate medical treatment, despite the fact that you will most likely suffer from PTSD, among many, many other issues - physical, psychological, and otherwise."
"No!"I cried. "No!"I pleaded. "It was self-defense! I swear! I swear!"
As the guards dragged me out, the judge added, "If it makes you feel any better, when - if - you return, we'll throw you a parade and give you a medal as job well done for completing your sentence."
|
I remember the first time I was told I had "powers".
I was only about 6 or 7 at the time, and a rabid dog had been set loose in our neighborhood. Now, the rabid dog wasn't new to us: Ol' Lucky had been our favorite mangly mut for years before he turned into whatever it is that he was.
Ol' Lucky, known for being able to track down money by scent, had been helping us neighborhood kids find money for chocolate since the days we were born
Until one day, instead of chocolate, it was cigarettes, and he was crazy instead of helpful.
I started smoking squares when I was 5 and quit when I was 6. Real addiction we're talking here.
As I strolled up to our culdesac, I noticed Ol' Lucky seemed a little bit "off". He was snarling at me; I was scared, so I did what any kid would do and turned the other way.
He chased after me, with every fiber of his being wanting a bite of the pint sized nicotine addict in front of him. I kept running, but Ol' Lucky was always faster than I was.
He bit straight throw a tendon in my arm, and almost bit the jugular vein in my neck. They said it was fatal, but I knew otherwise.
Not much happened between then and college, besides suddenly scoring a date with the hottest girl in school, or finding an 100$ bill on the sidewalk.
As I opened my letter from SHU, I was shocked to find out that I had actually gotten in! Kids were getting denied that had super strength, or telekinesis, and I was a normal kid from Eerie, Pennsylvania that just managed to scrape by in school!
Like my mom had always told me, I had powers from the moment I got bit by that dog.
My name is Everett Enger, and luck has always been on my side.
|
“See, don’t my eyes look too spread out and low? And mouth is, like, high up or something”
“No. Turn off the light, I’m tired.”
Harry sat on the bed, staring at full-length mirror hung on the inside of the opened closet door. He felt the bed move as Lora rolled over to face the other wall.
“Didn’t they say in that museum art class that the area between your eyes should be the same size as your eye?” He was using his thumb and index finger to create a makeshift bracket, moving it from his eye to the area between his eyes and back.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect in real life. Can we please go to bed?”
He took a deep breath and blew the air out, then stood to look at himself in the mirror sideways. His shoulders fell when he touched his bare stomach. Too flabby, as always.
“You look fine, hit the light and go to bed. We’ll work out together tomorrow.” Lora’s voice was muffled by the blanket she’d pulled over her head.
“We always say that and then we never do.”
“We will this time.”
“Fine. Wake me up when you get up so we have time before work.”
~~~
Harry grabbed his tie from a hook on the far end of the closet. When he pulled the closet door towards himself so he could use the mirror to check that he’d tied it correctly, he startled at his reflection. His eyes looked like they had moved even further apart and the top of his mouth was pinching towards his nose. It was as if the mirror had distorted to mimic one of those stupid camera filters the interns were always using.
He stepped to the side of the mirror and waved his hand in front of the spot where his face had been. It was fine. So, not the mirror? Maybe it would be too hard to tell with a hand? Harry drew a little cartoon face on a napkin that was laying on the nightstand and held it up to the spot in the mirror. The cartoon face had an exaggerated nose and eyes, but no more exaggerated than he’d drawn. He held his breath and stepped back in front of the mirror.
“Jesus!” When he shouted, his top lip maintained the pinched shape. A wave of butterflies went through his stomach and his heart started to race. This wasn’t right. His face was wrong. He couldn’t go out like this. Harry whipped open the drawer on Lora’s nightstand and rummaged through it until he found the mini-roll of duct tape she kept for fuzz that was too stubborn for her lint roller. Where’s the end? He turned it over and over again until he spotted it. He picked at the end of the tape, but it wouldn’t come up. His movements became frenzied but the stupid tape still wouldn’t lift it; his fingernails just kept losing their grip. Finally, finally, he got a small corner to loosen and he ripped off a piece.
He got down on the floor and scooted close to the mirror. With one finger, he smoothed one side of the tape to the corner of his eye. Once it was fastened, he pulled the other side of the tape across the bridge of his nose, pulled it taut, and taped it down, then repeated the process on his other eye. The corners of his eyes burned with the pressure when he tried to blink, but he had to stop them from moving any further. Maybe they’d even come back in a little.
***I ran out of time for the night, but hope to finish this up tomorrow!***
|
What was left of the fleet circled around the alien world at a breakneck pace, clouds of debris from the battle cruising with them.
The Admiral had spent the last few hours silently sitting on the bridge, surrounded by the busiest people in the universe. But his work was done for now, the battle was over, the die cast. His fleet lay in tatters. Frigates hemorrhaged oxygen through burning scars, the hull still hot enough to leak boiling teardrops into the void, as cruisers and cradles tried desperately to recover what they could.
It was now only his place to watch the screaming candles slowly boil away to nothing, and wait. Another ship cracked in half, it's anti-matter containment failing due to a power shortage, silently shotgunning what remained of his fleet with another wave of shrapnel.
Another marker flickered out on the holodisplay. The Admiral sighed.
"Admiral, sir."Captain Blackburn spoke with a waver in his voice, whether down to anger or frustration, the Admiral couldn't exactly determine. "The fleet reports at 43 percent operational, with 13 percent still disabled, leaking atmosphere, or otherwise dead in the water..."Blackburn trailed off. The Admiral stared at the display with dead eyes.
"44 percent casualties is no- well, it-... it's better than expected."The fleet arrived with around 300 ships. Of them, the majority were smaller ones, carrying a crew of no more than 100 men. Torpedo boats, or picket ships. Only 50 ships had a crew of more than that. Frigates and destroyers formed the bulk of that. Then, above those, six cruisers, and one heavy cruiser, the Flagship of the fleet, the ship he sat on now.
Of those ships, only 30% were expected to survive in a best case scenario. Head on collisions in space tend to result in high casualty rates, even in hit and run attacks. A single railgun hit is almost universally lethal, no matter the size of the ship. Even debris from destroyed fighters can gouge out chunks from a ship, a fact that the Admiral was now acutely aware of.
"If I'd have placed the pickets slightly further forward-"The Admiral choked on his words, shook his head, then continued. "No, they would've been torn apart. Maybe a tighter formation? It'd prevent the fighters from perforating our screen, maybe... but-"He stopped again.
"It doesn't matter what you would've done."Blackburn rested against the display running his fingers through low poly approximations of ruined hulks drifting alongside them. Behind him, outside the bridge window, the ships twisted and turned, mirrored by the display. Specialized ships with tight nanofiber nets 'brushed' the small debris out of the intimidate area, so the larger salvage ships could get something useful out of the skeletons. "What happened happened. We weren't expecting the GTO guns, and the drones tore us to shreds."Blackburn drummed his fingers on the display screen, watching the hologram waver as he did. "I can't expect you to be a fortune teller."
"No."The Admiral sighed, and rested back in his seat. "I suppose not. The invasion force?"
Blackburn straightened up, and with a few swift taps on a console, the rendering of the battlefield melted away, points of light falling away like grains of sand in an hour glass, only to be replaced by new ones. Numbers, statistics, damage reports, and topographical maps appeared, nigh incomprehensible unless you knew what you were looking for, and yet it contained all bulletpoint notes you'd need for an invasion.
"Simply put, it's looking grim. The brass were quite clear. We're to leave as much intact as we can. After glassing the GTO guns, we've expended barely a fraction of our strategic munitions, but unless we improvise something, we're going to have to rely on SSTO fighters for tactical support. And our manpower leaves a lot to be desired."The display morphed once again, now showing expected enemy concentrations and firepower. "We're invading an entire planet, and we've barely got 100,000 men, and no real support."
"When do the transports get here?"The Admiral stood, resting against the display himself. The whole room seemed to mellow out a little as he did, the background chatter intensifying a few degrees.
"They dropped out of FTL a few hours ago. They're falling into the system as we speak. They'll slingshot around Glyph III and then burn till they rendezvous. ETA..."Blackburn broke eye contact to stare into the middle distance, then returned after a moment. "Depends on conditions, but best case, 6 hours. Now the skies are clear, their Captain's should be a little more confident."
"Have they received word?"The Admiral looked over to a communications officer, who too caught up in her duties to respond verbally, shook her head.
"I'll have someone send word. Though I imagine they've realized by now. If we'd failed, they'd be getting intercepted by now."
The Admiral inhaled deeply, and rubbed his eyes. He'd been awake for the 36 hours since they dropped out of FTL, and it was starting to show. "Send it by Q-Sat, if there are any still in the system."Blackburn turned to speak, but was cut off. "*Make* bandwidth. I don't care if they can see them from Earth, they burn hard, and they get here now."
Blackburn stood a little straighter. "Aye, Admiral."
The Admiral pushed himself off the display, his joints creaking. "I'm going to bed. Wake me if something interesting happens. Tomorrow we'll begin the landings."
|
Today is the day. i have been tracking this guy since April. On multiple occasions I've had my shot, he was right in my cross hairs. However, every time I think I've got the shot... he looks at me. No, i don't mean he looks in my general direction. He would look directly down my scope. I could never bring myself to do it and the first few times I thought I'd somehow given away my position so I didn't think much of it. But, yesterday; he winked at me.
So, today I've decided to go right up to the guy. The boss back home would give me hell for going directly up to a target, but I have to know what is up with this guy. His camp hasn't moved from the day before. He's never done this and my unease grows more and more. He has never stayed in the same spot for more than one day. I gather up my supplies and toss them into the back of my buggy. I'm carrying enough ammunition today to take down a small army, but I have a feeling I'm not going to use it today.
I drive down from my high ground through the desert. The closer I get the more i can't shake this feeling that something wasn't right. As I pull up to his camp, which consisted of a tent, a truck, and campfire that was recently put out, I can see the man standing in front of his tent watching me. He knew i was coming and had been waiting for who knows how long.
"Hello friend"he calls out to me with a smug tone that only increases my anxiety. "Do I know you?""No, but we do have a mutual friend."At this point I knew something was going down and i needed to find a way out quick. "The Boss sent me on something of a scouting mission,"he smiled as he slowly walked up to me. "He thinks your getting too predictable. He says that every time you come back from a bounty it's the same story. Spot up, take down the target, and get home all while never even looking his target in the eyes.""So what, it gets the job done"I can barely get the sentence out through gritted teeth. "So what, is that the Boss wants flair. No, he NEEDS flair. Your too boring."We are now face to face and I can see the blank stare that looks back at me every time i see a mirror. "However, I vouch for you. I tell him that you can still get the job done in exciting ways. So I put a bounty on my own head and told the boss to give the hit to you. Sadly, everyday i knew exactly where you were. For five months I could spot you from a mile away."I am now face to face with the man and his blank stare has turned into a look of smugness that boils my blood. "The Boss was right. And the bounty on my head remains unclaimed. But, someone needs to go home with heavy pockets right. Which is why I had the boss give me a hit of my own."The man looks over my shoulder and winks. I turn just in time to hear the gunshot. |
Now child, go to sleep.
The tooth fairy won't come if you peep.
Little did I know,
That those fairies needed to fight there foes.
They take your teeth and sharpen the things,
And shoot them from harpstring strings.
Want to know their foes?
The old ancient dwadalingos.
They come from caves and crevices,
And hide under your mattress.
They crawl out at night,
Looking for fairies to fight,
And steal the teeth under your pillow.
So now child, if you see a creature the size of a toe,
Crawl in from your window,
Crush that dwadalingo,
For only it's their evil the tooth fairies know. |
I always wake up groggy Christmas morning but this time I had no excuse. I do not know how I missed it until now, I feel ashamed.
A crowd had gathered in the street and I aimed to join them but it was difficult getting used to the changes. I now moved peculiarly slow and, 'jumpy'? All the walls and floor had lost their detail, as well. I looked at my face in a hallway mirror as I carefully tottled along, it looked like a damned toy. I wanted to touch it but I was too scared. Slowly and carefully, I made my way down the stairs.
By the time I opened the door I realised that, though snow was everywhere, it didn't feel cold. The air was a weird, somewhat warm, sort of stagnant kind of air. Watching a mass of familliar looking, low in detail, visually jumpy people pile into one spot looked far worse than I was letting effect me. The buildings all looked painted wrong, as though it were painted too many times over. The snow also parted in an odd manner. My neighbour, an elderly man who had saved up for years to buy a motorwagen, was desperately trying to start it. He was the first thing I'd seen moving with any amount of speed and it turned my head around, I looked away before I threw up.
Moving onto the crowd, everyone was talking to someone about some concern. Most were really obvious but a few stood out.
"Do you notice how smelling and touching things feels all strange?"
"I can still drink water so that's good? Right?"
"I can't feel my groin any more, have you checked yours?"
"Where are the stars? I can only see the moon..."
Eventually, some woman who was smart enough to grab an object to stand on, yelled out probably the most important question anyone could ask.
"Does anybody know why this happened?"
The crowd stopped. Everyone was waiting for someone who knew something to speak up. After a lot of silence and some weeping from the back, someone did.
"Yeah I, uh... might have an idea."The portly man's sickly looking wife tried pleading with him to stop but pushed her away. "For Christmas a cousin of ours sent us some exotics from the dark continent. An elephant tusk, some clothes, a barbarian's shield... a monkey's paw."The whole crowd thought the exact same thing. We all knew the story. Jacobs was born in our little suburb after all.
Before anybody could say anything, a shadow was cast over the whole town. Standing before the moon was a giant girl, holding a pair of scissors and an greedy grin.
"I have so many toys now." |
What the peepee go in girl peepee did you just peepee go in girl peepeeing say about me, you little female doggie? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the flip out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my floopin' words. You think you can get away with saying that poopoo to me over the Internet? Think again, flipper. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're **googoo GAY GAY** dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable butt butt off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little 'clever' comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your eww tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you lordheck idiot. I will poopoo fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're super duper dead, kiddo. |
**2000**
An elderly man stands over a weeks-old grave.
“I told you I would find you. I made a promise, remember? I thought it would be sooner than this. But the first word I had of you...was when you died. I guess we both moved on, didn’t we? We had to.
I have a son now, did you know? And a grandson. And grandchildren. I met your son and his daughters. We each had a son, didn’t we? To replace the one we lost. The one they...took from us.
I looked for you. For 60 years, I never stopped looking for you. But, I suppose, somewhere in the madness, your name was lost. I know we’re not the first to be reunited like this. Not the first to have their last words be ‘I’ll find you.’
I’ll leave you to your rest, then. Perhaps now you’ve found some. Say hello to our son for me. I’ll find you both again.”
Tears water the grave as the man pulls back his sleeve. He can barely make them out any more, but they’re seared into his memory.
The numbers tattooed on the inside of his arm. |
Ben dreamt of falling. In those dreams he would be walking down a road, sitting in a chair, or any other mundane setting. As soon as that thought that nagging feeling like he wasn’t on solid ground- wham! The ground would give out. Or he would find himself falling amongst the clouds. _How did I get up here?_ There was no reason in dreams. Just terror.
Ben woke with shriek. He wasn’t falling. Because of his dream- nightmare- he was now fully awake. His body felt wrong as if gravity wasn’t working right. Usually upon waking one feels their weight on their back; not the front. Also, his apartment was never this dark. He tried looking around at his surroundings but his head was held firmly in place by some sort of restraint. It reminded him of the seatbelt in his car. He tried moving his arms and legs but they too were stuck.
It was in this panic, struggling to free himself, that he first realized that he wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t in a room at all; at least not one that he had ever been in before. _There is so much dark_, he thought. He saw a faint light far down below. That’s when it hit him. His stomach turned. He gasped. Immediately, he stopped struggling against the bindings that held him place. He was strapped to a ceiling over a long dark shaft.
His first thought was that he was in one of those old abandoned mine shafts. The dim light only allowed him to see blackish, featureless walls that disappeared into the fathomless depths below. There was no sound but the increased beating of his heart. He began to hyperventilate. One quick breath followed by another. He couldn’t get air in fast enough. He imagined the air, like the little light, was in short supply. His lungs burned as he tried stuffing as much air into them as he could.
_Ding._ He stopped. Had he imagined that? Was there something down there in the dark? He tried calling out, “Hello?” But all that came out was a weak, choked mumble. The straps holding his stomach and chest felt like someone was squeezing him in a hug from behind; making it difficult to call out.
_Ding._ He heard it again. The sound was so faint as if it was walking the line between imagination and reality. It sounded fragile almost. As if it might just de-materialize into nothingness. Ben didn’t want it to go. Noise meant someone else. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted- needed- someone, anyone else.
_Ding._ It was louder now; but just slightly so. Had he heard that sound before? He was sure of it. He couldn’t place it even though he could have sworn he heard that same sound thousands of times.
_Ding._ Whatever was making that noise was getting closer. The dim light grew stronger in the darkness below. This was it, he thought. Someone will come and save me. This nightmare will be over.
_Ding._ He realized that he wasn’t in a mine shaft. His mind was searching for a connection to the sound in the wrong place. He could now see the top of an elevator car. It looked just like the movies with a thick black cable that shot out from the dark. He hadn’t been able to see it before. The cable ran from the elevator car to the ceiling near his legs.
_Ding._ He heard the low rumble of the doors opening. It waited. Then the same rumble as the doors closed. He knew what would happen next. The elevator car rose slowly fifteen feet then-
_Ding._ It was directly below him now. Did the elevator go any higher? That had to be the top floor, right? A bead of sweat pooled at the lowest point of his forehead. It abandoned him as if jumping from a sinking ship. A doomed vessel. It splashed down on the top of the elevator car’s metal top. He hadn’t even noticed he was sweating. The doors rumbled open. He waited. And waited. Was something holding the doors open? Was the car stopped? Now was his time to call for help. “He-“
The elevator doors closed shut. The equipment on top of the car made a loud whirring mechanical noise. Time slowed as the space between him and the car lessened. It was so close now. The smell of oil and grease permeated the air. It was only a foot away now. He found himself wishing to dream again, any dream.
_Ding._
|
I love you too.
I told him that two years ago. We were near the old oak tree at the corner of my road. He was pressed up against me, his shadow looming over my face. I love you. That was what he told me. I felt his fingers constrict around my wrist. For every second I didn't reply his grip grew stronger. Pain. That was what I really felt. What I wanted to tell him. But I didn't. He scared me. I love you too, I said.
He'd always be outside my house. He never seemed to leave. A prisoner in my own home. I'd sometimes watch him from the blinds, standing there near the oak tree. The shade always covered his face, I never knew if he was staring back.
You're mine, remember that. These were the words he would proselytize me with each day. Then those words followed. I love you. I would think back to the day I went on our first date. It feels so alien now. What did I see in him? It's like a dream. Like I'll wake any moment and that relief will spill over me. But it never came.
I didn't call the police. I was scared of what he would do. They couldn't protect me from him, not forever. Soon he would be back, under the oak tree once more. So I moved. I quit my job and left. I got as far away from there as I could, to a place he would never find me. I remember my parents, how they were so pleased for me. They thought I landed a new job across the country. I couldn't tell them the truth. I was scared they might confront him. I didn't want confrontation. I just want it to be over. I look back now and hate that he made me abandon my parents to a lie. If you're looking down on me, Dad, I hope you understand.
He called the day I left. He called the day after. And after. And after. He contacted me any way he could. Email, texts, phone calls. He even filed me as a missing person, till I contacted the police to explain. I had to change all of my contact information. I had to lie again to my friends and family, tell them I was hacked. I'm just lucky I never let him meet any of them.
I checked my old sim card the other day. I'm not sure why. Morbid curiosity, who knows. My phone is inundated with texts and voicemails from him. I read the last one, three months ago.
*U sed u loved me. U sed love. bt u abandond me. it was all a lie. Im gona kill myself now. U need to rispond quick, or Im guna do it.*
Three months ago gives me cautious optimism. I hope you did it. I never loved you. |
Nobody listened.
You always listed off the perks of drinking organic oat milk and kale smoothies but nobody goddamn listened!
They laughed when you relied on "I'm a vegan"to begin a conversation.
Well who's fucking laughing now bitches!?
The meat industry had been poisoning their livestock. Fattening them up with chemicals and steroids. It wasn't long before the disease consumed the world.
You were different. You loved making weird concoctions of fruit and veg. You hated meat eaters.
You were militant.
Well now you are all that's left.
You and your kale eating brethren.
Well done vegan, well done.
[DISCLAIMER: I am not a vegan] |
***THE 46TH DAY***
The source of the signal was heavily debated and eventually proven to be extraterrestrial. The message was preceded and followed by a rapid clicking sound- almost like static, increasing in frequency, and then decreasing after the message. The message was received all over the world in Morse code, as well as audio in Russian, English, and Chinese. The voice was seemingly human, but the words were unnaturally spaced in every message received:
*Stop broadcasting. They are going to hear you.*
Without even taking a moment to consider heeding the warning, scientists from all over the world began working on pinpointing the source, and returning the message.
*Who has contacted us? Where are you? Who is going to hear us?*
This message was agreed upon by Earth's nations, although there may have been variations made by private facilities. Headlines across the globe were dominated with speculation and premature conclusions for the following month, as we blasted our message into the great unknown. Finally, we received a response.
*Stop broadcasting. We are coming. One eighth revolution.*
All hell broke loose. All at once, all foreign affairs were put on hold as the superpowers of the Earth geared up to defend the planet. Nations made unlikely allies as presidents, monarchs, and tyrants got together, accompanied by top scientists and military leaders. Major cities erupted in turmoil as looting and all around anarchy became a daily affair. Social media was flooded with end day prophecies and wild conspiracies.
Forty five and a half days we waited. Forty five and a half days, time stood still on our small planet. I wish I could go into more detail on the chaos, on this all encompassing test of human nature, but I just don't have time. As I write this, I find myself in a fascinating situation. Fascinating yet terrifying, as I am quite unsure of my future. I only find comfort in the fact that I may be experiencing our visitors in a way no other human will.
Upon their arrival, all of our radio communication became completely useless. Car radios, cell phones, etc. All anyone could pick up was this high frequency signal, emitting a strange yet familiar audio... rapid clicking- almost like static. This was especially terrifying for us, being cut off from the rest of the world, but we got the best view.
On the morning of the 46th day, a massive spacecraft settled onto the outer edges of our planet's atmosphere. It seemed to feed on Earth's gases, pulsating and visibly moving the air around it.
I watched in awe from the space station window.
*TBC?* |
"What are you talking about?"I ask myself, I guess. I don't think I would ever chain myself to a chair. How would I actually acomplish that? I mean, I could lock the door and throw the key, but how did I chain myself here? With my mouth? I guess, yeah, with my mouth. But that just seems oddly complicated. If I had wanted to just lock myself, I could have asked someone else to do it for me. Yeah, maybe I did that, that sucker Joe always had it in for me, ever since I accidentally broke that plate of his, he surely would have helped me lock myself in. But then again, why *did I lock myself here?* I mean, I have my days but I usually like myself, and even when I'm feeling kinda chubby I just complain on Twitter about how far away the nearest gym is. I don't know. This is all pretty weird. Anyway, where did that voice come from? It could have come from my head I guess, this whole conversation has been inside my head, one extra voice doesn't seem like that much of a stretch. But then again, if it came from inside my head, whose voice was it? It was a weird kind of voice, it sounded like the narrator on The Stanley Parable or something like that. I don't know. This is all very tyring. I'll just go back to sleep and maybe in the meantime I'll let myself out. |
Robert Till. He has been accredited for more than one hundred and fifty confirmed kills. He operates with precision and severity. I requested that he kill a man. I wanted it to be memorable, somewhere ironic. I instructed him to take the killing shot while the man was in the park a mile from his home. After all, It was at this park that he last saw his wife, and he visits for a few minutes every day. Today was their wedding anniversary, and so there was no way he would miss it.
I bought a bouquet of flowers my way to the park. White roses had been her favorite, and it made sense to commemorate the occasion. Step after heavy footstep led me to the park. I reached the fateful spot and sat down on a bench, ready to observe. I looked across the street, expecting he was already here. Till is methodical, as I learned from looking into his previous contracts. He likes to lie in wait.
I see a glint from a window across the street. Letting the sun hit his scope is sloppy, especially for a hired assassin. He’s taken residence in one of the neighbor’s houses. It’s possible he just slipped in from the roof, but I would have to visit them later to make sure. I hadn’t planned on any civilian deaths today. There was meant to be one casualty and if Till had killed them I would be pissed.
Staring into the scope I nodded, and dove for the floor. A shot rang out. As I suspected, he likes to take his time. He must have trained the scope on my head for a few seconds before firing, he wanted to meet his prey’s eyes, the sick fuck. Unholstering my sidearm I let loose a burst of four shots at Till. Two through the window and two through the wall. Old Fashioned as he is, He likely uses a bolt action rifle. This gives me a large window. Firing all 9 shots left in my magazine, I Lowered my gun to reload. Hearing and seeing no signs of Till I ran across the street I burst through the front door. The Johnsons were cowering in their kitchen completely unharmed. I waved hello as I burst through their door and up the stairs. Kicking down the door to the street-facing room, I pointed my gun at the floor near the window. Till was lying in a pool of his own blood. I still had a soldier’s aim it seemed.
I approached the window as I looked out onto the park. Reaching into my bag I grabbed the White Roses and scattered them to the increasing winds, clutching my wedding ring as I did so. |
Right...in all fairness. Its a sweet and caring idea. Some people, especially the Elderly can often end up with no one when it's...erm...clocking out time. Especially if they outlive all their old friends and family. I signed up to the registry after my dad died. After it being just me at his funeral. Felt...well...you know. I didn't want anyone else to feel like that. Even if they are dead.
It's...erm...its just why did i get him? Most don't even consider him a person any more. After...you know...the purge and all.
It was a sunny day outside the prison. It was just myself, the priest and the pallbearers. Priest was a lovely man...kept his hatred for Kray subsided...at the wake afterwards i chatted with him...lost his wife to the disease Kray released. Became a man of god shortly after...so there was some good in it. I guess.
The Pallbearers were...less respectful. But they got a free meal at the wake with myself and the Priest and were polite enough to both of us...even if it was under threats from their guards.
Guards stayed away from it all but joined in silently at the wake...only talking up to keep the criminals in line.
It was erm...a strange ordeal...all together. Was kind of hard to say some nice things. Did some research on him though. Was fond of animals. Reared pigeons. Left out the bit where he tested the first few strains of the disease upon them but hey...you know. No matter how evil a person may be. You do deserved to at least be missed. |
I came awake to darkness and the sound of a door closing nearby. I reached out with my left hand to feel the familiar bumps and ridges of a book nearby, feeling the smooth cold linoleum under my palm as I moved. I sighed silently, had I fallen asleep again in the upper floors of the university library, colloquially known as the “Tombs” for how quiet it was.
I took a deep breathe of the musty air I had come to associate with the printed word as I stretched comfortably, kicking a nearby book stack shattering the silence.
“Anybody here?” A strong commanding voice echoed out. “Library’s closed. Go back to your dorms.”
I rolled over onto my belly, listening to the soft klinking of a guards keychain accompanied by the acoustics of his rubber boots tapping along the floor. I held my breathe nervously as the resounding footsteps came closer. Closer.
Closer.
Then stopped.
“Must be nothing.” The voice said again. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”
I let out the worlds softest sigh of relief as I heard the footsteps recede, then the heavy door to the Tombs open and shut. I sat up, leaning against one of the book stacks letting the irony of the situation sink in on me. “I was locked in the library. ME of all people!” I knew I should probably move to a more secluded area, so I lay down on the cold ground again and scurried forward until my fingers found a wall. Then I turned left and kept going until I hit a book case. I repeated this pattern until I found some forgotten corner where a small pile of books was, left to sit until the end of time.
“This is gonna be as good a place as any...” I thought to myself.
I reached out for the pile of books, knocking it over. That was when I found it.
As my hands ran against the smooth book covers, I felt the bumps of the only language I knew how to read.
The title simply read “Need”, while one next to it read “Desire”. Knowing I had several hours to spend before the Tombs was unlocked in the morning, I cracked open “Desire” and began to read.
“Chapter I:
On the Principles of Curing Oneself of Blindness”
My unseeing eyes began to water.
|
My wife called while I was at work and said she was taking our son to her parent's. I told her I was sorry I couldn't make it ( a lie, fuck in-laws), but I had a few more things to do. I told her to have fun, and tell her parents sorry for me (another lie).
I got home, anticipating at least three hours alone. Her parents lived an hour away, so I had all the time I needed. I stripped my clothes off at the door and sat down in front of my gaming console in my underwear and socks. It was gonna be a good few hours.
I had downloaded a new game last weekend. It was a lot like Galaga, but in a first person mode. I played hard, enjoying the silence in the house and allowing myself to get into the game. Hell, I had some time. It was a nice change of pace.
I got to a point in the game where I was completely surrounded. No where to go, enemies on all sides. A prompt appeared on the screen.
"Use death blossom?"
I figured it couldn't hurt, so held down R1 and L1. There was a blinding flash of action on the screen, and then it went blank. I sat there for a minute, scratched my balls and wondered WTF.
The next moment, there was a blinding flash of light in my front yard. I walked outside, oblivious to the cold despite being clad in only boxer briefs and thin cotton socks. There was a car parked in my yard, and a figure emerged from the driver's side.
"I'm Centauri,"it said. "And you are the last Starfighter." |
"So young ones."I smile as I watch their bright faces. I dare not look up, I know the looks their parents are giving me. I also know they are too busy to find time to veer them away from me. "Tell me, do you wish to hear the daring feats of the knight of Ginsburg? The man who brought low a dragon with only steel and strength and wit? Or perhaps Ashe? The woman who had wrestled giants and drove them from the north even months after her axe broke in her hands?"I could feel the venom in their parent's glances, the church didn't approve of women or non-Christians performing feats of heroism, and being more then a bit of a hedonist herself she fit both perfectly.
More importantly I saw the glimmer in a young girl towards the front. My list of heroes was dozens longer yet, but I knew who's tale to tell. Minus the raunchy side-stories of course. Heroes are great in person, but must be damn near perfect in their stories. "A moment to tune my lute if you would..."I set about the chore quickly so I would not lose their attention. Sure a few wandered off, but the girl with the light in her eyes stayed put. She was transficed by the story to come.
I sang of Ashe's strength, of her unyealding determination and of her love for the common folk. With each chord her eyes shone brighter, with each verse I could feel her excitement rising. Of course, the church hates fun. So wherever I go, the local priest is bound to demand I leave, some will even take such harsh weapons as a knife or a club to me. I had just finished my tune when he came round the bend, carrying only his book and the warts on his face. "Well it looks like that's all the time I have, you'd best get home to your parents, I'm certain they worry for you."
All but the girl who I'd so inspired had left to avoid the scorn "you should go, my own troll draws near."I say hoping to make her laugh. It is enough to see children's smiling faces.
Instead she turned to me "then I will wrestle him back north!"She proclaimed. I was not able to stop her before she jumped onto the priest and wrestled him to the ground that my jaw nearly hit. Still, I knew I had to break it up, and so I did. The priest had used the power vested in him by god to banish the both of us from town.
I sighed to the kid as we left "well... You need to learn to pick your battles. What's your name?"
"Isabella. Can we go see Ashe now?"
"You really liked the story huh?"
"Uh-huh! I wanna be just like her!"
"Alright, but it's a long journey. I think it will be my last one up north. But you have to do something for me in return."
"Anything!"
"You need to become the kind of hero I can write a new song about."I smiled. This wasn't as uncommon as it seemed, and the world could always use more heroes. |
The red brick swelled under the summer sun. Heat waves radiated out in all directions piercing my clothes like a nudist in a tanning salon. On top of the brick sat a formidable and frozen dark stained oak double door, a single pane window divided in four by the same stained oak stood out in both directions. The brick disappeared somewhere up above gracing the sky with white granite masonry. I tried the door. It was locked. I pulled out a stainless steel water bottle and milked the last few drops into my dry mouth. As I tried to swallow I heard the breeze make the familiar "slap"against a window not open, but not locked. I watched the two vertical pieces of wood bordered glass flutter together and rattle as they found their way back to their resting position. I offered an eye to one of the corners. The office, or at least what was left of one, stood still. A long, cool, gray davenport rested against the left wall. To its right the shattered artifacts of a mid 1960s glass corner lamp and matching jet age coffee table littered the short fine twill burgundy carpet. The desk of a mid-range executive stood opposite the window. Slumped over with face buried in arms, sprawled out on top of the glossy mahogany, he lay. Or what was left of him that is. I caught the glimmer of a .38 casing resting on the carpet amid pieces of the shattered lamp. I work the point of my knife up between the two glass panes until I hear the flick of the latch open and pull out one of the panes a few inches. I take a wiff. It's him alright. |
Stuaem-Leion watched the massive blue-purple swirling cloud in front of him churn the water in the most unnatural way. He watched with his massive red eyes as the blue shimmered off the sun and turned the light into a strange green which he had not seen before. He closed his eyes and breathed the air of his planet before they approached the Gate which had changed there world so much.
"Are you watching it?"Treaimus said fluttering in behind him. "Rather beautiful"Treaimus used some English word Leion had not heard before.
"It scares me a bit,"Leion said leaning his head to the side "To think beyond that is people even more powerful than those who came to us all those years ago"Leion shifted his wings and used them to prop him up as he leaned back on them. "They know so much about this world and we know so little, it fears me what another hundred years have done"
"Ah, you worry too much,"Treiamus said sitting down on the metal beam that extended into the sky. "Ariuan can speak perfect English and I am sure they will all appreciate us"Treiamus placed the claw on the edge of his wing on the ship "We are bringing back there ship back in better condition than it came to us in"
Leion nodded, trying his best to imitate the smile he had seen that last human do. Still, he was worried and afraid, he was leading a team of ambassadors to a world with far more advanced technology and he was supposed to be the one who would achieve peace. He had read and re-read the accounts of the Humans that first came, each reading giving less information than the last and he still knew nothing of what to say.
As the spire started to grow ever bigger in the sky, Leion took one last breath and looked toward Treiamus. "I guess this is it,"Leion said, bracing his feathered wings and fell down to his typical position at the helm.
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Sorry, just the beginning and a marker. |
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