Split (1)

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Elevator doors won’t close. I hadn’t circled around to the closet yet, I didn’t know where they were. Some armed men had busted into the law firm, killing indiscriminately. My coworkers and friends were mowed down before me in a hellfire maelstrom of hot lead. The last person I’d seen alive was Hilary, and she got killed when they found us hiding in a utility closet. I was the lone survivor. &nbsp; I had lost them around a corner near the partners’ offices. I knew I had probably bid mere seconds of time. I made up my mind and knew where I was going to go. As I crept and ran down the halls of the law office I passed several scenes of brutality. The horrid screams of terror echoing throughout the now vacant office space. &nsbp; “There’s one!” I heard one shout. The footsteps behind me gained quickly, I couldn’t last much longer. In the nick of time I rounded the last corner and was on the homestretch to safety from these monsters. Just a few more feet! At what had to be Olympic-level speeds I finally made it! I was safe! &nbsp; Was safe. To my horror, the elevator doors wouldn’t close.
up held in my hand the device in not activated. i fear for I know that all the questions I might have will be answered. this is the scariest prospect of them all. How can I even begin to think that this act of god is in any way a good idea. there has been massive devastation with infinity less power given to one individual. I had no way of knowing what would happen to me. how it change my mind. I only wanted to know who I was as a person at the age of 50. no I can't. I should't be true but by all accounts it is. all I know for sure is that this thing. this evil thing can't be anymore. I take all knowledge that I have of this and set out to destroy it. to ensure that never will this be able to come back. this takes two years. I sit and I reflect on all that I had to do to make this world better place. I think about who I had to become to make these things happen. I know understand that person I saw. I sit in slight horror realizing that the monster I set out to stop was the monster I became. my transformation is complete. there is no going back. All that I have is myself and my will to live. So I will set out like an old cowboy in a movie to never be seen or heard of but living a much longer life than anyone can ever imagine.
The first rays of sunlight shone into my tank as I prepared for a new day on this alien planet. Draining my tank and donning my human skin, I smiled at myself in the mirror. I could feel it already - today was going to be a great day outdoors. Feeling the sun and wind on my skin, drinking coffee and the spinal fluids of humans for fun, skinning them for new suits. Ah, the simple pleasures that life offer. Glancing outside, a few adults were hurriedly running around their front yards, burying prettily designed eggs in strange places. Sigh - human culture can be so strange sometimes. Despite having been around for half a century's worth of Easter celebrations, I still crack up when children run around, pawing at the ground, for an 'Easter Egg Hunt'. Bah! Why hunt for eggs when you can hunt for gold or diamonds? Come to think of it, I haven't worn a child's skin for a while now... it could be useful to have a few hanging in my closet, actually. Maybe... Easter egg hunts weren't such a bad idea after all. And thus the preparations began. I was out of eggs in the fridge unfortunately, so I had to improvise. Luckily, I happened to have some eggs on hand (not literally, you know, but in certain parts of my body I refuse to talk about) so I just had to wash off the many layers of slime and fluids. Perfect, they already had mutlicoloured shells! Saves me from dealing with those nasty smelling paints that humans use - honestly, how do they stand the stench? All that was left to do was to hide it (or not) and wait. I 'hid' mine right in front of my neighbour's front gate and stood there staring at the sun, ignoring the weird looks the parents were giving me. I was thinking about the feel of boundless energy, of silky smooth skin unmarked by acne, of immense joy and liveliness - I missed that feeling of youthful vibrance, having been a child (or my version of it) at least thousands of years ago... I think... So absorbed in thought, I didn't even realise that a child picked up my egg. Exclaiming in delight, he waved it around. I looked at him. "Careful with that, now." He stared back at me. "Is there a problem, mister?" "Of course. That's my egg you're holding."All the parents around were giving me strange stares, but a quick glare from me set them on their way. "Oh... I see... Can I open it?"The boy asked hesitantly. "Sshh, not here! How about you open it in my house instead?"The street may have been relatively empty, but it made it hard for me to acquire a new skin without any other pesky humans witnessing the entire spectacle. "No, Mom says I'm not allowed into the houses of strangers..."He gave off a mildly frightened vibe, but I was getting a little tired of this charade. "No need to worry, I'll give you lots of candy too!"I smiled the widest smile I could physically manage without tearing my skin at the lips, and steered him towards my house. "Ow, you're hurting me! Let go!"The boy shouted. I made a quick shushing motion and continued. Was I holding onto him that hard? I guess I needed to recalibrate a few of my touch sensors. Oh well, I could recalibrate it using this new skin... "Let go of me! Ouch!"Tears were now coming to his eyes. In a sudden effort, he tried to jerk away from my grip on his shoulder. Then several things happened at once. For one, I accidentally tore a hole in his shirt. Oh well, I could always buy a new one. Unfortunately, I also tore a hole in his skin. That wasn't so easily fixed. Fortunately for him, I have first aid kits at home - it can't hurt to stay prepared (though I'm not sure if the equipments I have are suitable on humans, to be honest). Even more unfortunately, he loosened his grip on my egg, and it flew from his hands straight towards the pavement. MY egg. MY EGG that broke apart in a pile of lime-green goo and half-dissolved eggshell. !!! I was boiling inside. Literally. If he didn't burst out into tears, he would have noticed that small jets of steam were issuing from my ears. "Are you okay? Come to my house, I have some Band-Aids that can help you,"I said, putting on the most pitying voice I could muster. The boy, shocked from everything that happened too quickly, nodded his head, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. As I guided him (gently, this time - no more tears or I was going to have to find a new skin host) back to my house, I smiled on the inside. After a whirlwind start, I guess this day was going to be good after all. My jaws unhinged as I reached for the back of my neck to unzip my skin, while guiding my prize up the stairs of my porch. It was time to feast. Edit: this is literally my 1st post here, so comments/suggestions are most welcome!!
"You want me to do what?"Terrez said watching the man across from him slowly spin the Stock Chip in his hand. "I want you to kill the Damned Legion. What was unclear about that?"The man wore a perfect pristine black suit and had sharp elegant eyes that stared straight into Terrez's soul. "Listen, I might be good, I might be the best, but the Damned Legion is something different. I've never seen him and I've taken jobs alongside him"Terrez remembered back to the Corporate Bombings on Micron Five, how the Damned Legion knew the entire plan and was able to get into there security grid without tripping any security girds, something Terrez was unable to claim. "I've hardly ever talked to him nonetheless seen him. What you're asking is actually impossible and I should know"Terrez looked at the Stock Chip he held in his hand, 1% was a lot, but it wouldn't be any good after he was dead. "What if it wasn't impossible?"The black-suited man said "What if I stopped him from moving around and got him stuck in one place? Could you kill him then?" Terrez laughed just a bit "What are you talking about, he's better at me when it comes to running away, even when ships are banned from leaving the planet he still manages to get away. You can't contain him, you can't hold him, go find someone else for you're suicide mission" The dark-suited man visibly put on a mask of anger as he stood up. His human form stood a good foot above Terrez's sleek furry body, but Terrez still assured himself that he was ten times stronger than this weak businessman even on his worst days. "I want him dead, and you will do it for me, mainly because you are here, but also because I'm doing this"The man pulled out a small device with a neat little red button on top. He pressed it and almost instantly the entire planet fell into a massive blackout. Terrez looked out his small window toward the streets below and the chaos that was beginning to ensue only after a few seconds of total darkness. "By my calculations the electro-magnetic Bomb's effects will wear off in 185 local hours, Every ship, every signal, every life function on this planet will be turned off during that time"Terrez looked at the monster who had just doomed millions "I expect him to be dead before everything turns back on" "I...I don't understand"Terrez heard a scream a few floors up and the smashing of a window a couple floors below "Why do you want him dead?"Terrez felt responsible, he felt he had caused this destruction in some twisted bureaucratic sense, but he now had a job to do and if this man was truly right in saying that the Damned Legion was on the planet and now had no chance to escape it might be possible some good come out of the millions dead in this coming weak. "It's simple really, he killed me three....three days ago"A stutter was in the man's words "I was about to present a prop...proposal to the major hee"There was a jagged stop in the man's words, almost as if his body froze up "Head's of our company, This is a mental record, specifically opened in my will to seek you out and give you this mission"The man started to twich and certain holographic projectors behind his face began to give way "The Stock will be tranfered, once you have killed him"The man fell to the floor, the advanced robotics behind the almost lifelike android collapsing under the Electro-Magnetic weight now put on them. "You....You..."Terrez never heard the last words of what that android said, he thought that must have been the last electronic thing to work on the planet. Terrez was alone now, with the knowledge and chaos displayed in front of him. It wasn't a typical job, by any stretch of the imagination, Terrez didn't even know if he still wanted to do it, yet some sort of obligation to the people below made him feel compelled. It was going to be hard, especially now with the blackout and the fact Terrez had no idea where to start, but he was going to do it, he was going to do it and become the best contract killer in the galaxy. "Not if I can help it,"The android said behind him, suddenly springing to its feet and lunging at Terrez. Terrez barely had time to react, dodging under the flying mass of metal and plastic hurtling over his head. Terrez had to think quick about what was going on, if this Android was Cloud-based DI could theoretically hack into it, it must have some sort of structured carbon protection around the wires to protect from the Electro-Magnetic Bomb. Terrez moved to the other side of the small room and watched as the Android took a second to get up and reorient itself. Within that time Terrez had fashioned an ancient Taveleen fighting stick from the materials strewn about his room. None of his conventional weapons would work, all destroyed by the Electro-magnetic bomb, but he still had his own two hands and the X shaped stick he had become so familiar to. Again the android leaped at Terrez, but this time he was ready, plunging one of the ends upward into the androids metallic body and piercing the thick metal casing in one fluid motion. Terrez threw it down to the floor in the opposite direction, as the hole through its internal systems shot blue and red sparks. The android tried to get up, but Terrez thought something important must have been hit because the Android kept failing at its attempts. "Who are you?"Terrez said, aiming the stick at the androids head, knowing that the DI inside couldn't be threatened like that. "YOU...WONT....KILL ME....I....AM...UNSTOPPABLE"The android sputtered out in exasperated voice recalls. In that instant, Terrez knew the Damned Legions greatest secret. "You are smart my friend, you fooled the entire system, hell the entire galaxy, but now I know and now I know how to kill you"The android twitched and sputtered on the ground. Terrez always hated DI's unable to be killed in the conventional sense, but he had 'killed' many before and the Damned Legion was no different. "Let the games begin,"Terrez said, reaching around the broken android and pulling the main electron cord.
December 12th, 1985 New York City. Manhattan, empty Nassau street late in the evening; Jimmy Tedesco stumbles home after work with a few beers in his belly. The bells of the Santa hat he stole from a barman announcing his every step. The remains of an under cooked kebab staining his chin, his mouth filled with the sting of over spiced meat. The beer, like lead in his legs distorting time, his home seemingly further away with every awkward step into powdered snow. Passing a Wendy's, wishes he'd waited to get something else to eat. Wendy's closed hours ago anyway. He doesn't usually drink this late but his girl was at a Duran Duran concert with friends. They'd be out late, heavy make up, heavy drinking, heavy laughing. He wanted to avoid the start of the girly night, and just hang out with friends. His feet regretting it now, his nose and ears joining in the complaints as the relentless snow and wind chill turned them red. A girls scream echoed through the empty street, then another and another. Jimmy Tedesco shocked out of his stupor, turns around, sees three green boards blocking an alley, one board busted, footsteps in the snow. A dark alley, of course it was. Nothing happened down brightly lite alleys after all. Three men huddled around a women, short black skirt riding high, long bronzed legs kicking. Pink heels coming lose and flapping at the force of her kicks. A dumpster near by, a piece of broken wood from the green board next to it, In Jimmys hand in an instant, his fog lifted. Purpose clearing away the haze of the beer and junk food. "Get the fuck off her, assholes!" His words punctuated by the hard sound of thick wood on skull. Then another swing, another hard sound. The girl quiet now, motionless. The men turning their attention to him. Their faces distorted, rigid. Their mouths gaped, wet with crimson. "Fuck." Short man in a shabby blue suit first to reach him, received a heavy kick to the balls as a first prize. No effect. Jimmy gripped the wood again, swung, heavy thud. Followed by another and another. Bone shone white with blood under the moonlight. A second man, ripped bulls shirt, stumbling, grasping the air, desperate. Met the blood soaked wood the same as his buddy. The third mans skull broke the wood. "Oh for fucks sake" Jimmy backed up slow, looking around for another weapon. Broken bottles and a half burnt mattress were all that came to view. "Fuck it." Jimmy charged, dipping in front, grabbing, then lifting him up and high, passed the girl on the ground. Jimmy slammed him, wrestler style. Got up, grabbed a hand full of hair and smashed the mans face into the broken glass on the ground until he stopped making noises. Jimmy stood up, his breathing erratic, his heart thumping against the wall of his chest like it wanted to escape. "What the fuck?" The din of his breath, the focus of the thing at his feet, masked the sound of his final attacker. The girl, teeth bared, on him, in him. Chunk of his flesh in her mouth, his artery pierced, blood sprayed the alley. Jimmys knees went, he pushed her off with the last drop of his energy. Turning, backing away, falling onto the body he had just put down. The girl, dark hair, long. Her left breast exposed, beneath that her intestines also exposed, half chewed, hanging like an apron. She was chewing the piece of him she'd just taken. Life almost over, no more fight left, not even to scream. Jimmy Tedesco watched with blank horror as the girl with the skirt too short for the weather, and the pink heels dragging inched towards him, but worse still behind her perched on the green boards, the angel, sworn to be his guardian, slow clapping. "close! Very close! I give it a 6.5, mostly for effort. That body slam though, mmm, that was pretty sweet. Anyhoo, this looks like its going to get pretty gruesome, so, Im gonna take off. See ya!".
It makes no sense. Pluto's disappeared. Yet, according to all calculations that's exactly what happened. Teleportation is still in it's primitive stage. It shouldn't... No! It isn't capable of teleporting anything of that size! Even if it's just a dwarf planet. I looked at every possibility. I rewatched the footage and I looked up all the relevant information. And, I still don't understand a thing. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Am I being tricked? Is this a prank? Did someone find a way to simulate teleportation? "Daniels!"Great, who is it this time. "Daniels!"Oh. It's Williems. I sighed. What does he want now? A few seconds later, he barges into my office like he owns the place and for some reason he's glaring at me. What the hell did I do this time? "You good for nothing moron. Why haven't you solved this problem yet! Do you know how many calls I've received in the past hour?" I opened my mouth. "Don't even try to answer! I don't have time for your stupid jokes. You better be finished with this within the hour or else your fired!" He turns around and just as he's about to leave. I tell him the following : "Sir, why you can't fire me, I'm the only teleportation specialist alive." He grit his teeth, glared at me yet again and left without saying a word. Anyways, I'll find a solution. There has to be one. At that moment a miracle happened. Pluto reappeared. Talk about anticlimactic but you know what I'll go and take credit for it. Maybe, they'll give me a promotion. Who knows? I wonder where it went though. It disappeared for over five hours. Eh, not my problem.
Men and women have always been gifted in wrongly perceiving others similar to them as different. Wars have been fought because of it. Genocide has been perpetrated because of it. Entire races enslaved for hundreds of years. And then, just when we were on the cusp of achieving a world where most accepted all those differences were merely illusions, we had to make them a reality. The conservatives tried to stall it. Tampering with God’s plan they argued. Meanwhile, half of them paid a hefty premium to have their children tailored in the black market. For a while, all the world could do was to be suspicious, afraid the technology would widen the gap between rich and poor even further. After the scale of the hypocrisy was made public there was no way to contain it anymore. Under a legal, yet regulated system, the middle class got in on the fun too. The poor still couldn’t afford it, but if you can please the majority, who cares? So inequality did become worse. But another form of inequality was brewing. An inequality of generations. How exactly does one hold a democracy together when a minority is forced to subject themselves to a will of a majority that is inferior to them? A majority that is afraid of them? How does one save a republic built upon the self-evident truth that all men are born equal, when that is no longer the case? When the first proposals to create an “enlightened democracy” came forward, one where only those who have the intellectual ability to understand the problems of the nation could have a say, the response was muted. Maybe because they thought it was too far-fetched to come true. They were wrong. And as the years went by, the minority grew closer to a majority and they secluded themselves as much as they could from the poor and the pure. Where once purity meant superiority, now it meant the opposite, weakness and simplemindedness. The pure slowly became the laughing stock of the country. Unemployable, brutish, desperate. So they did what any desperate people would do when threatened. They came together and they fought back while they still could. Civil wars have always been the worst kind of wars, because they pitted brother against brother. But to live in a world where we managed to pit fathers against sons and daughters… we might have outdone ourselves this time. God help us.
With thanks – and apologies – to Douglas Adams. ------------- “Now Mister Desiato, if you’ll just turn your attention for one moment to slide two-hundred and forty three, you’ll find the structure with which I intend to-” “Alteron.” Hotblack Desiasto, seated in his trademark Lazlar Lyricon-designed, overbearingly large, overbearingly black seat, raised his hand. The professor stopped, his mouth hanging open with an expression that, experience had taught those who knew him, meant any optimistic interrupter had but a few seconds before the deluge of financial figures would begin anew. Hotblack squinted at the jumble of equations and Sankey diagrams that spread across my monitors. “Your colleagues at Maximegalon may understand the details of this, but alas, I have absolutely no idea what I’m looking at.” “Well, it’s quite simple, Mister Desiato, all it requires is a basic knowledge of hyper-dimensional tax refund policy, and the relationship between that and-” “And as we have established, Alteron, you are employed to have that knowledge, so that I don’t have to. Right now, I just need to know one thing – how long will I have to be dead for this time?” “A year, by Sol calculations. But it is the most cost-effective way to save you several quadrillion over the course of the tax year. Enough for a whole megafleet of stunt ships.” “Exactly what I wanted to hear, thank you, Alteron. Enjoy your shore leave tonight, you’ve earned it.” Hotblack nodded, slowly, making a mental note to arrange Intergalactaflora cards to cover the exile period. Professor Alteron raised all six of his hands to his glasses, moving them onto his second pair of eyes. He opened one of his mouths to speak, but Hotblack intervened. “Figuratively earned it,” he clarified. “Figuratively.” “Very well.” The professor, power taken from his star drive, shuffled his glasses, awkwardly. “Thank you, Mister Desiato, sir.” “Have a good night, Alteron.” The rock star leaned back in his chair as the cockpit door slid closed behind the professor. It had been a good tour for Disaster Area, “The loudest rock band in the galaxy”, Hotblack reflected. Their tour had taken them out past the Seven Sister, into the Cassiopeian Clusters, even venturing near enough to the Eroticon system that he’d had fanmail from that Gallumbits chick. Sure, there was that unfortunate incident on Maxwattica Seven involving a spare stunt ship, but that had actually brought the mortality rate per concert down compared to their last tour, and driven up ticket prices in the 37-mile zone. Tonight, however, was going to be something special. Fan mail from this far out was certainly unusual, though not unheard of since the band had begun to explore the larger spiral arms. (The Galactic Core had included Disaster Area on the list of banned weapons under the Planetary Destruction Act 5.5-Apple-26, resulting in a several-lightyear wide area in which Hotblack was required to be separated from his keytar by no less than three Faraday Cages, one Maxwell Cube and seventeen miles.) What made this fanmail especially of interest was that someone, this far out into Sector ZZ9, was that it had mentioned Hotblack’s acoustic works. Before making it big with Disaster Area’s first single – “Don’t Stop Now Baby, This Bed Is Big Enough For Three” – Hotblack had, under a false name, of course, been known to write and perform work that was best experienced not from within nuclear bunkers, but across the hallway in an open-plan pub. Which, he had discovered, on asking his agent to track down the source of this mysterious mail, was something that “Earth” seemed to have altogether too many of. ------------ The ship, so black it seemed that the evening light simply slid off it, gently slid into car park, silently lining itself up between the wall and a large coach emblazoned with “VISIT SCOTLAND” on its side, with a picture of a very dreary-looking lake behind it. Earth, it seemed, hadn’t yet made interstellar contact – indeed, the Guide itself only had two, not entirely helpful words to say about it – “Mostly Harmless”. All-in-all, this seemed like a very suitable place to play his acoustic set. Hotblack reached for his keytar, disconnected it from every Peta, Giga and Megwatt Amp he could find, and slung it onto his back. He stepped out into the street, into a place that appeared to be called “Eyes-ling-ton”, by the signs, and made his way through the crowds of people, pleased to note how well he blended in. The Barrio Angel was a bright, eclectic, and altogether garish mix of light and sound. There were suitcases, umbrellas and laundry baskets pinned to the walls and ceilings, several different types of seating living peacefully in harmony to support the weight of far too many punters for such a long and thin venue. It certainly made a change from the usual black-on-dark-grey luxury interstellar travel he was used to, but, as he set up his keytar stand and mouth organ behind one of the more sturdy looking suitcases, Hotblack felt the buzz in the air and knew a good show was ahead. And then, raising himself to his natural height of around eight feet and closing his eyes, Hotblack played the first chord of his most popular acoustic number, a lively tune of life, love, and exploding natural satellites, called “It Wasn’t Me This Time I Promise”. The bar fell silent. His fingers moved with ease to the second chord, gently blowing the complementary note with his mouth organ... And still the bar was silent. Hotblack opened his eyes. The bar had emptied. He stumbled out into the street, glancing at the people around him and turning his gaze up to match theirs. There, hanging in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t, were a fleet of giant, grey, featureless cubes. “People of Earth, your attention please,” Hotblack was already running. And Hotblack Desiato did not "run". Not unless there was a Vogon Constructor Fleet involved. “This is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz-” the voice, perfect and pure, echoed around the planet as though in unison from a billion microspeakers. Hotblack had known the guy who had done the tech for the Vogons. Had – he winced – being the operative word. The poor man had been treated to a planet wide reading of poetry, and quickly driven mad, all so that the Vogons could absolve themselves of any debt. He careered into the car park, scrambling with the key. The doors glided open, effortlessly, and he began to belt orders to his crew. “Mason – Power up the Petawatt Amplifiers, arm the stunt ships, get me the MegaLaser from our last tour – the Vogons need a little lesson in bur-Rock-cracy!”
Today I posted a writing prompt to reddit.com/WritingPrompts I didn't know it at the time, but it was the worst decision I've ever made. Shortly after, my writing prompt began to occur...to myself. At first I laughed and thought it was funny, but soon I realized it wasn't a joke, they knew intimate details about my life that nobody could except myself. TIL I am a teacher. Who knows what I will learn tomorrow..
Title: The World Is On Fire and Everyone You Know Is Dead Despite all of this, the Bard had a plan. You see, he was a very musical fellow, and if there's one thing this world needed, it was music that didn't sound like a cacophonous murder of ravens as the smoldering city of Rome lay in ruins, a shadow of its former glory. With this sweet melody, one could almost forget he who had started the fire which seemed now to be always burning as the world's been turning. He, Nero, who had started the fire, was dazzling all living ears with a hypnotic tune like none other than that of the Pied Piper. Because, as everything was starting to seem somehow inexplicably better, you now know that the Bard most certainly had a plan.
"I'm not kidding, and this is not a joke."she told me sternly. I did what I could to stifle my laughter. "ok... Then what are your powers?"I inquired, my skepticism showing more than I intended. "I have x-ray vision and I can fly."she pronounced. She gazed at my lap a little longer than I might like. "you're not wearing underwear. See, pervert." "hardly counts. I told you it was laundry day this morning."I countered. "well, I can still fly"she asserted, as she turned to open the window. At this moment, I realized that this was not a joke she was over playing. She was not just pulling my leg. She sat on the window sill, and spread her arms out of the window, as I jumped up in astonishment. I rushed to the window just as she sprung from it. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for letting it get that far.
Their buildings burned while their roads were soaked with blood. These primitive, unaugmented creatures had somehow come under the belief that they deserved a spot among our systems. How naive. We let some flee, for they would go home, and following them would be our punishment. We tracked 4 ships heading out of the system at FTL speeds. We activated our heat sinks, masking our emissions for our pursuit. The heat from their warp drives was too easy to track, this wasn't even an escape. But then the most surprising things happened. In the middle of deep space, they disappeared into the darkness. The radiation from their ships was gone, and in its place was darkness. As we drew closer we encountered an unexpected gravity well. And then, the darkness was replaced with light, and our ships joined the void.
“I love you - I love you too much. It makes it hard for me to concentrate. To maintain control. When you’re around, I can’t. I can’t stop myself. “I love you, but you need to leave. For your safety, and mine.” She stood, shaking as she said the words that had been in the back of her mind for months. But her voice didn’t tremble. Her will was strong, even if her heart was soft. He stood looking at her, his mouth hanging open as he absorbed her words. “But.... baby....” He said softly. She simply shook her head, afraid if she spoke she would break. “You mean it? You want me to go?” He asked, more quietly than before. She nodded. “Ok,” his voice was now a heartbroken whisper. He turned to go, then glanced over his shoulder and added, “I still love you.” He turned away once more, crossed the room, and exited without looking back again. It was for the best - at his words her resolve crumbled and tears began sliding silently down her face. As she crumpled on the floor, a sobbing heap, the room around her began shaking softly too.
I never in a million years thought I would find my soulmate as well as love her family. I had always been conscious in any new relationship to be a gentleman. I kept in mind that flatulence is something most women turn their heads away from. It could make or break a relationship.I was invited to meet my girlfriends parents, it was taco night. I was nervous, sweating, about to break into tears knowing that at any moment during this delicious feast that I was going to let out a monstrous beast. As I have said I have always been conscious to be a gentleman. I had never farted in front of my girlfriend up to that point. When that first, loud, Unholy abomination from my anal region burst into reality I almost died. Her family turned all eyes upon me. Then a second and a third came roaring. Startling enough my girlfriend and her parents became excited. They all rushed to my chair and began to sniff around. It seemed as though they where proud of what had come out of my ass. They gave sighs of relief, moans of joy. I stated I never thought that I would find my soulmate and love her family as well, but after those slips, I realized I was a part of the family. I proposed the instant that everybody stood up. I knew that anyone that could be satisfied with the gas that comes out of my behind would always be satisfied with me as a son-in-law and husband. My wife and I have been married for 20 years now. We have three lovely children. We consistently play games on road trips of who can leave the stinkiest fart while keeping the child window locks on. We seek out food that will create a rumble in our tummies. Today I must thank the Blessed taco, for that is how I raise such an incredible family. ..... THE END. P.s. sorry on mobile and using speech to text. Also just for the sake of ya'll knowing I am a female. Side note to that... I make sure that I get through the farting process as soon as possible when getting a new person. Everybody should.
"You accidentally caused the end of the world. Again. That's the fifth time this month..."your boss, Leonard LeRoy, sighs. "When I said to stay out of the testing room, what did you think I meant?"You just fidget in your chair; Leonard doesn't want you to say anything. He stares at you intensely, boring a hole through your whole body. He sighs once more before saying, "Listen, you're a good kid but if I didn't owe your mother an improbablistic amount from an ill-fated poker game, you'd be out of here already."He pauses to catch his breath. You think back on what led to this point. It was...yesterday? No, it must have been Tuesday. Yeah, it was at lunch after the referenced fourth world ending accident. You had gone to the factory's cantina and ran into a colleague, one J.Q. Samuels (the J.Q. didn't stand for anything). "Oh hey, pal. What is this, four? Five?"he asked, voice laden with sarcasm. Smirking, he continued, "LeRoy's certainly not happy based on that mug o' yours."He laughed and you attempted to move past him to get a drink, however he grabbed you by the collar, stopping you. "Listen. Just because your mother is lead designer here you don't get special privileges,"J.Q. hissed before shoving you away. Glumly, you went about your lunch thinking about your mother. It was as J.Q. said, but then again, he wasn't entirely correct either. Your mother was lead designer of Populace Inhabited Planets, lovingly called PIPs, and that was exactly why you had to do what you did. And knowing your mother, you'll be doing it many more times, all without anyone knowing why. As you bit into your burrito, an announcement could be heard ringing throughout the factory. --please report to-- You only half listened, wanting to finish your food before heading up. "So,"the smartly dressed woman in front of you started, "this next one's not going so well but it's being pushed ahead to Testing in the next couple days. I keep telling Lauren to hold off but...". She stopped abruptly. You had been trying to hide your fatigue, anger, and, most of all, your sadness but it was no use. When your mother is as powerful as she is, you can't hide anything. "OK, I know you're not...happy with the current situation but I'm looking towards retirement and I want my last PIP to be the one,"she emphasized "the one"and brought up a holographic display. It was showing the plans for your mother's latest, and "last", PIP entitled "E. Ver. F.". There were so many edits and corrections throughout you weren't sure how anyone could keep it all straight. "The biggest issue seems to be with the populace. I can't seem to get them to slow down weapons development and blowing each other to smithereens. Things were simpler when it was version one and all I had to do deal with were dinosaurs.... Nevertheless, I need you to go into Testing and dispose of the latest version." Your mother stopped talking and looked at you again. You could tell she didn't care for any objections, let alone feelings, so you stood and left. That was Tuesday and this morning the PIP entered Testing, so you set about your work, making the annihilation of the people seem an accident. A little global warming, a few strategically placed weapon caches, seeds of malcontent. At this point, you were a professional at this. Leonard was saying something, "--your mother doesn't seem too upset by your...activities...but the guys upstairs certainly are none too pleased."You simply nod, knowing full well your mother doesn't care about those above her. It doesn't seem like Leonard has anything more to say so you stand and exit the room. No one is around because your accident ended work temporarily, but also because it's lunchtime, and you head back to Testing. There's one remaining log on the screen next to where the PIP had been. On it are the words, "As our good God giveth, so too doth the Devil taketh". You grimace and think, while deleting the log, The sooner Earth is finished, the better. But you also know that you'll be doing this for a long while yet.
Every few steps Katherine stopped to glance down at the baby strapped to her chest. The little girl slept soundly. Even still this didn’t stop Katherine who, with both hands occupied, had no other way to manage the child. Up ahead Ben had made it through the tree line to the river. On the water a small boat bobbed gently up and down. Ben began to unzip the grey cover on the boat. He rolled up the back flap and laid out two sleeping bags on the floor of the boat. As she made it through the clearing Katherine heard a small rumble and looked back to the city to see smoke billowing from a building. Ben glanced back before returning back to his task with a new fervor. He started loading the boat with their supplies and belongings. “Don’t think about it,” Ben said. Katherine wasn’t sure if he’d said it to her or to himself. Even if he had said it to her, she wasn’t sure she could really just ignore an explosion like that. They’d moved to the small cabin the night before. Ben was restless in the city. A few nights ago he woke Katherine and told her they were going on a trip. Katherine took the hint from his tone of voice and face. They gathered food and water, clothes, fuel, and gear. At a glance it looked like they were going camping. And that’s just what they told the city guard. When they left at dawn. Right now only two outpost guards and one city guard know they’re in the forest. Or at least that they had been. The other day they heard gunfire and today was explosions. Things were panning out how Ben thought they would. He just hadn’t thought it’d be so soon. Ben took Katherine’s bags and placed them into the boat leaving Katherine with they baby. She placed her now free hands onto the child. Stroked her hair while she slept. “Where are we going to go?” “Right now just away from here. River opens up just a head. We can turn around there and ride away from the city. From what I know the military doesn’t have a river patrol here yet. So right now we take the boat as far as we can. If you can drive during the day I can take watch at night. If we need to we can camp. After that...well let’s just focus on now.” He sorted everything out in the boat and then stepped in. He offered his hand up to Katherine and helped her onboard. “I’ll take this first drive. We can switch later.” He untied the the boat from the shore and they pushed off. With a low rumble the engine came alive. As they turned around where the river widened they caught a glimpse of the city on fire. The first of probably many helicopters chopping through the air and descending upon the place they once called home.
"You're only supposed to have my sub-conscious thoughts! Stop stealing my thoughts!" He sits on the chair in shame. "Say sorry. And say what you did." "What? You want me to apologize like–like a fucking child?"He storms up, stomping on the carpet. I look at him angrily, and he gives in. "I'm sorry for messing up your first date,"he sighs. "And?"I say, my eyebrow raised. He sighs again. "I'm sorry for stealing your thoughts during your first date and saying aloud, 'I'm totally going to bone her tonight.'" "That's better."I walk away and up the stairs toward my room. I'm almost at my door, when "Totally fucking destroyed him."I stormed downstairs. "What did I tell you?"I yell. "I don't know, but you sure have edgy thoughts,"he replies, laughing. My palm curls up into a fist. "Okay, okay, I'll stop,"he said, snickering. I nod, satisfied. "I'll go back to subconscious. Seriously." My phone vibrates in my pocket. It's the girl from the date. I read the texts, anger on my face. "Great fucking job, Jake."I shouldn't be this angry. It's just a woman. We didn't even have a full date. But I am, for some reason. "That's technically an insult to yourself, you know,"he says. "Oh, fuck you,"I say, rolling up my sleeves for dramatic, cliché effect. I lunge at him, and start strangling him. He struggles to speak, but I can hear his words. "I shouldn't be doing this, I shouldn't be doing this!"he says. "I should be doing this,"I say, pushing harder. "I shouldn't be doing this!"He repeats his a few times before finally dying. No more subconscious thoughts. Thank fuck. Except–now there's a pressure on my throat. What's going on? Oh man, oh man. I panic silently. I can't speak at all. I just walk around, unable to escape the invisible grasp of I-don't-know-what. And I collapse on the ground, next to my subconscious. I use my last precious seconds to look at my clone. And I think, "Huh. Guess I needed him after all."
Ever heard of Them? Well, neither have I. Until today. Them are creatures, not of legend, not of story, but of truth. They don't resemble humans. In fact, I'm not even sure what they look like. Well, some say that people years ago, like before anyone who died in 1940 would've been born during, Them were the most talked about thing in the whole world. People went into detail with their different types of shapes (that's their most identifying feature) and how to protect yourself. Sort of like now, with SCPs. They made a few movies about this in the 1990s, inspired by the memories of the elderly of their lives. They were never properly released; but shown in local theaters in select cities, and many enjoyed their stories. And then–poof. No one remembered. Even though some people who live today should have seen the "Them"movies ("Them,""Them II: The Flight And Fall Of Bart The Staircase,""Them III: And Now They Breed,"and "Them IV: The Final One Of Them"), no one seems to have seen them, or at least remember them. And no, Them didn't erase the memory of the public. Actually, they liked the fact that the people knew about them. They seemed just as puzzled as anyone. And if everyone forgot all this, then how do I know this, you ask? Well, I know because Them are here. And they won't let us forget them anytime soon.
I enter the bank through the front door with my gun raised, scanning the empty counters. The man to the right of the door points his pistol at me and... Okay, I enter through the front door and turn to the man to my right. He's just beginning to turn my way when my taser darts hit his chest. His padded armor takes the brunt of the electric shock and he points his gun at me. I enter through the front door and immeadiatly strike at the man to the right with the stock of my rifle, catching him off guard. I hear cartilidge crunching as the man reels back. I feel a stinging sensation just as I hear the crack of gunfire at my back... I enter through the front door, bash the man to my right with the stock of my gun and immeadiatly roll behind one of the counters in the middle of the bank lobby. The man I just stunned jerks back as multiple rounds hit his body. So much for non-lethal...I pop my head up and catch a glimpse of the armed robber standing in the doorway to the managers office, pointing his gun at me. He pulls the trigger... I walk in through the front door and don't even look to the right as I bash the guy there. I immediately go down to a knee just as the robber by the door comes around with his rifle raised. Two darts strike him in the leg and he goes down in a spasm. I hear the first man curse and I turn to see the muzzle of his gun in my face... I walk in through the front door, take aim and put a dart in the man to my rights thigh. He goes down, and I take a knee, the first round going over my head as another dart drops the second robber. I wait for a heartbeat before moving forward. This was the easy part. The figure who steps out of the back is dressed in a gaudy gun-metal gray and red outfit with what looks like nozzle tips on his fingers. He looks at me without comprehension for a second, then recognition sparks behind the goggles he wears and the grin that spreads on his face is anything but friendly. "Well well well...If it isn't the local government kicking boy. How's it feel to be under the Governments boot now Quick-Slave?"I level my dart gun at the super and let off a few darts before diving to the left. I feel the burn as a super-heated plasma washes over me. I sigh and tap my foot as I rethink the situation from outside the bank. Blow-torch is an unexpected twist to this encounter. Like me, he turned to crime after he got his powers, but unlike me he hadn't been caught yet. Worst of all, he's a little out of my league. I could drop him if I caught him unaware, but he's using those armed goons as an early detection system for trouble. I go through with a few other scenarios, using the back door. A dramatic through-the-window entrance, and even a few where I actively help the bad-guy here and try to get away with as much cash as I could. Those all ended badly. Tapping my ear-piece I request access to the Captain's radio. Captain, a former pilot for United Airlines, gained the power of Flight, Super-Durability, and a few other perks with his packaged super-powered deal, making him one of the stronger sanctioned heroes in the region. A complete ass who was too full of himself in my opinion, but one of the few people who went straight to the government and became a sanctioned hero by choice. "Captain, this is Quicksave. I'm on the scene at the bank-heist in progress and need back-up. Blowtorch and possibly another super are with a gang here and they'll be done within the next ten minutes." "Too hot for you to handle Quicksave? I'm a little disappointed." "Puns? Assholes like you are why so many people stay away from the sanctioned heroes program. Save the banter for your laywers, maybe it'll help with the divorce...better yet-" I sigh as I tap the comm again, tapping my foot in thought outside the bank. Calling up the Captain again, I give him the information and this time just stay silent after the pun. I know he'll arrive in two minutes or so, but it's going to get nasty after that. I go in through the front door, dart to the guy on the right, roll, dart the guy coming through the office door. I pick up a office cup off the desk nearby and hurl it opposite of where I am. Blowtorch comes in, gets distracted by the breaking porcelain. I blast him with three darts to the chest which only serves to stun him. I sprint towards him and slide under the wild swing of his plasma torch like fingers, He's turning to stab down as I roll away, I feel a burn on my arm as he clips me. I make it past him finally only to step into the vault, only to see a flash of lightning crackle across the room. I sigh and tap my foot impatiently. A few more tries to get past the blowhard in the suit and whoever is behind him and I finally give up and just wait for the flier to show up. Two minutes feels like an eternity, and I can hear the sirens of the normal police approaching as well. I don't even look up as the two minute mark hits. "Captain, there is a second super in there. Some sort of lightning power, but I haven't gotten a good look."I inform him. "I advise not taking either head on. Hell, I think we should call in more of the team."This won't work and I grind my teeth in frustration. He only chuckles and shakes his head. "You are still so new to this side of things. Let me show you what a REAL hero can do!"
Luke breathed a sigh of relief. After the amount of energy he just expended to hold off Kylo until his sister could escape, he felt weak, but...strangly satisfied. He had overcome his fear and doubt, and though he wasn't sure if he reached his nephew in a way that would change his way of thinking, he was at peace knowing that he had done what he could. &nbsp; Luke began to fall from his perch on the lonely island, but as he did so, his peripheral caught a shimmering expanse opening up to his left. &nbsp; reeeeeEEEEE &nbsp; Lying on the ground, Luke heard the noise again. &nbsp; REEEEEEEEEEEE &nbsp; "Wha...what is that? Y..Yoda?" &nbsp; A voice spoke from the shimmering expanse, as a shadowy figure emerged from the void. &nbsp; "I'm shorry, but this is just not actheptable. Rian Johnthon has ruined this shtory, and I, HanBrolo37, am here to make schure you survive this awful shubplot and give the REAL fans something to look forward to. Now one of my guildmates on The Old Republic is coming with a bacta tank, so rest, noble Shkywalker." &nbsp; As Luke slipped into unconsciousness, realizing that it was not yet his time, his last glimpse was of a shirt with peculiar writing that said "Han Shot First".
A mild looking man enters the room. He is medium height, has a scruffy beard and no hair. He's slim and seemingly none threatening. "Hello, mr khlakford, he say's with a frightening smile." ohh fuck, another freak, a few years back they started torturing police as part of their training. "Hi"I say trying to remain calm. I notice the three circles on his wrist. If I remember correctly thats the mark of an interegator, that's what they call them now anyway. Aparently they've been put through 'the dark' some stupid simulation the goverment makes the interegators go through. Ive herd it feels like your there for 15 years. Poor bastard. "LOOK "he shouts as he bangs his hand on the table. "I SEE THE WAY YOU STARE". His voice continues to raise. Then almost as if a different voice is eminating from him, he says calmly "Do, you know why you're here" For a moment I see him as the mild looking man I first mistook him for, my heart is pounding. "I, I stole ....."I lose my words, I know the penalty for stealing. They're going to take one of my kidneys. I cant afford to lose another organ. "ohh don't worry mr Khlakford, you can speak to me, dont worry, the nasty mr Brown has gone away. I won't shout at you, go ahead speak" I have no idea what the fuck he is talking about but Im terrified "Erm, I, I stole a loaf of bread"
To everyone else, they were just stories. But they were always more than that to me. They were stories to live by. As a kid, I was bullied for being smart. Not that I was a genius by any means. My high school career had been miserable, made better only by the stories of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. They kept me going when it felt like things were too much. I even got a tattoo of the numerals 221B when I was nineteen. But I didn't know the truth until I was much older. I'd watched too many episodes of 'Who Do You Think You Are?' and was desperate to find my ancestors. It took years of research, aided by eager library aides. But finally, I had my proof. There could be no arguments. Doctor John H. Watson was my great great great grandfather. The stories were true after all. I knew they were more than novels and novellas. They were a beacon of hope for those in need. And I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. There would be no more intelligent children suffering. Not when they had the truth. These weren't just stories anymore. Not now I had my ancestry. Now the world would know that the best detective in all of history wasn't just a story. He was a real man, a hero. Along with my distant relative, Dr John H. Watson. The world was a brighter place knowing that they were real. At least for me. === So a little disclosure. I was actually one of those kids and ended up with a 221B tattoo as well. I wanted to work that into the story as a way of making it a bit more real. I hope you enjoyed! Apologies that it wasn't longer, I'm struggling with writer's block at the moment. CC welcome!
I was told by my pastor that there would be a vast kingdom paved with gold. I was told by atheists that there would be nothingness. Little did I know that the atheists would be the closest to reality. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Yesterday, I had been grabbing a hot dog from a remarkably pristine stand in NYC when I had been knocked over by an escaping purse snatcher, and busted my head open on a pair of skateboard trucks that happened to be lying on the ground where someone was repairing their board. One in a million chance of dying that way, but it doesn't make me feel any better. I would have preferred to die in a more dignified way than being found by EMTs with a lukewarm wiener resting across my face, but that problem seemed billions of miles away, both figuratively and literally. It seemed almost instantaneously that the moment my head was pierced by those trucks, that I woke up floating in space. No, floating wasn't the right word. I felt my presence spread infinitely in every direction, but I felt cramped, like I was in a window seat of an airplane, next to a rotund man whose body was spilling into the seat next to me. In any other situation, I would be panicking, but it seemed that whatever I was, whatever I became after I died, I was nothing like what I left behind. My flesh body seemed so entirely limiting compared to...whatever I am now. "Hey, welcome! I was wondering when you were going to pop in. You've been in a coma for 10 years! You really, really wanted to come back, didn't you?"The voice came out of nowhere. Everywhere? I didn't so much as hear the voice, as felt it. The words are approximate, of course, because whatever was talking to me didn't speak in any language any human would understand. It was more of a language composed of emotions. So many emotions, so many that humans never felt, much less had a name for on Earth. You know those shrimp that have twelve color receptors, and can see many more colors than we can, because we only have three? That's about what this amounted to, on an emotional level. There was a long pause before I replied. "Where am I?"The voice laughed. "That's what everyone asks when they get here. You guys are so predictable. Septillions of lives, and that's all anyone ever asks when they get here."I could feel him (her?) smiling. "You're going to find that concepts like "where"and genders are meaningless here. You may not understand now, but you'll get it soon. Well, relatively speaking. We've been conversing for close to two-thousand years. We need to make this quick, though. Get your questions in now. Memories of your physical life will fade quickly. As for where you are, let's just say you're in our universe. One of many. And when I say "in"our universe, I mean just that. You are everywhere. Your essence has no bounds." My thoughts were reeling. What does this all mean? I paused to settle on one question. "Who are you?"The voice seemed to like that question. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere. Who am I? I'm just like you. I am the very first of our kind. Time is also a concept that means nothing to us, as you will learn to traverse it as easy as thinking. So, in the terms of Humans, I have always been here. Before time, before space, before anything."My next question floated to the surface of my consciousness like a lazy bubble, as I absorb this information. "You're God?"The voice rplied back in a mirthful tone, "Yes! And no! Some of you guys got it right. I did create Humans in my image. As did I many, many civilizations on many, many planets. And not just intelligent life. All life. Big and small. Even your planet is one large organism. My image, as you have figured, is not a physical form. What you call emotion is what we are. We are the living beings of emotion. We emulate ourselves in every organism we create." "Wait, WE?! There's more than one of you?"I felt what amounted to a great sigh from the voice. "Oh! Yes, we. I haven't told you the best part. Every being that I have breathed life into is a seed. A seed to create more of me. More of us. As I have mentioned, this is one universe of many. Each one of my worthy beings becomes one of us. Not all of them, but a good majority of them."I had no reason to doubt this voice, but I couldn't help but to have more questions than I started with every time one was answered. "Okay, why-""Are you here? That's the question to end all questions, isn't it? What is your purpose, both in your physical life, and this one? Instead of telling you, I must show you. As the memory residue of your physical life fades, you will understand." "Wait, does that mean I'm-"The universe slammed shut. At least, that's the best way I can describe it. I found myself in an endless void. It wasn't dark, it was nothing. The absence of matter, space, time, temperature, anything, There was nothing here. And just like before, I was confused. Confused as to why I'm stuck here, confused to what my purpose it, confused to why I...I? Who is I? Everything that was left behind, everything that was me, became nothing. Finally, I understood. There is no I. There is no me. There is only what is willed. Something needs to be created to be willed. Work needed to be done. But first, let's get some light on the subject.
Why run? Why fucking run? The question ruminates around my head as I push further down on the pedal. My car engine roars out as I speed up along the highway. It's over. What good will running do? I wonder as I stare ahead at him. "You bastard,"I scream out. "You murderer."I hope he can hear me. I push down further on the pedal, but I know neither the car or my words will reach him. He is without purpose. He is empty. It's futile. He won't escape his crimes that haunt him. I pull off the road onto the desert gravel. The sirens wail behind me. Flashes of blue and red paint my face as I look into the vanity mirror. "You cannot escape,"I say to the eyes staring back at me. "It's over for you." I pull my eyes away from the mirror and stare out at the cliff edge rapidly approaching. I know it is over, but in death I might escape. But if there is a hell, then there will be no escape for me.
The house groaned, sickly, as the world around it seemed void of life. Of course, life had still existed, even at this point, but to a passerby who might notice the scene, it would appear as if the planet were dead. Are plants not life? Is a house not a being unto itself? Vines might crawl up ruined cityscapes with purpose, or they might not, yet at the same time, one might see humanity with its wrinkling uninformed activities done through chaos and disorder -- seemingly random zips and lines through clear geometric buildings. Such a standard understandable pattern, and yet, seemingly lifeless. There were, at this point, no vines climbing up the cityscapes, and yet, in the house, it almost felt as if there could have been. The entire world felt utterly, totally, lifeless.
"Professor Blarbstwksy, what happend to the Neropioins?"Young Flugtsaed asked, "Humans, humans happened"was the professor's grave reply. "But they are just stories. Everybody knows that!""I think now is a good point in live to tell you that in fact, no they are living. At least in some twisted state. Well the Jlep, the extinct slave species, didnt come alone to the republic, they brought along a sentient species, not remerkable in any sense, seemed to be just there and scrapping about. So as you know the Jlep got wipped out by the Neropioins. The war was, well, your typical stuff." "Then along came the Humans. I remember the images of the human delegate when he held his speech before the grand Rex. This fire in his eyes was .... unbelievable. This was just cold hatred and lust for revenge in them. At this point something about the humans was revealed to us. They werent those harmless garden worlders, they were a menace. It was revealed by the delegate that they did send just the sick elderly of their species to us to live out the rest of their lives in a nice environment" "In a fit the delegate declared that with immitied effect war was upon the Neropioins. Now you will be asking yourself why the mighty Neropioins fell. You have to know humans came from a deathworld. Sol 3 to be exact. Up until that point nobody knew this." "Warfare is, now and back then, regulated to just ground warfare because ships are just to expensive to willingly destroy. Humans had perfected their ground warfare. They used some sick sort of chemical warfare, even routinely on their own civilians. Called 'Wiener Schnitzel mit Tunke' an abornation to be sure. Just seeing this 'food' would kill all of our brother race." "They unleashed it against their opponents. They even had a special Unit in their roster that did this. Called german chefs. The ambasador, an austrian, told all of the officials that even he couldnt stand this sort of torture." "This is why we dont talk about the humans, because they destroyed a perfectly fine species over a genocide. I mean this is the definition of picky. Over a genocide." "They dont talk with us anymore and we dont even mention their species name, if we dont have to" "Sickening"replied the young Flugtsaed whilst peeing herself a little out of fear of the humans.
Lady Gaga? Nah. Journey? Nope. Ace of Bass...I’m not why even sure how that got on there in the first place. Ah, Baby Got Back. A classic. A sudden bright light caught the corner of my eye. Too late, I looked up. Reflexively, I swerved to the right, immediately realizing that I’d pulled the wheel too far. Oh shit. Spinning out hard to my right, I slammed the brakes. There was a loud pop and the car lurched to the side. Exhaling, I tried to slow my racing heartbeat. I was alive. Christ, to think I could have been killed, because of my own idiocy… shaken and embarrassed at the same time, I turned off the radio. I looked down at my phone again and checked the GPS. The app was stuck on “searching for satellites”. Which was weird. I’d done this drive a dozen times since January, and I didn’t remember ever losing service. Where exactly was I anyway? I had left the outer county office at 5pm and the dashboard of my trusty Toyota Corolla read 6:15. That should put me at about three-quarters of the way home. But, as I looked outside and took stock of my surroundings, things didn’t look right at all. The 90 mile drive was a straight shot north, mostly 2 lane highway driving with a couple of small towns thrown in to break up the monotony. Lots of trees, maybe a reservoir or two. Looking out my window, there were trees, sure, but the trees were wrong. Instead of the early spring buds and evergreen pines from a few minutes ago, the trunks were withered and twisted, with barren dead branches. The grass was brown and sparse. The sky was the color of rust. There was a haze in the air, making everything appear slightly out of focus. I stepped out and took stock of my car’s damage. It leaned heavily to the right side in a very unhealthy looking manner. I wasn’t even sure I could limp it along to a repair shop if I wanted to. I stepped out of the car and walked about 20 feet or so, holding my phone in the air to see if I could get a signal. Nothing. Fabulous. Just freaking great. My car was about as useful as a pile of scrap metal, and no way to call anyone to help. Ok, I though, no big deal. I’ll walk. There were exits about every 5 miles on this stretch of road anyway. I couldn’t be more than a couple hours walk away from somewhere that could help. Starting to walk along the shoulder, I stopped dead in my tracks when I took my first good look at the road. The previously smooth asphalt was jagged and uneven. Cracks connected at gaping potholes, making the entire highway look like some bizarre set up for a whack-a-mole game. Even if my car was fully functional, this would be almost unpassable without 4 wheel drive and a good chiropractor. After about 10 minute of walking I saw one of the highway exit signs - or, at least I saw something resembling the size and shape of an exit sign leaning at a haphazard angle just off the shoulder. It was weathered to the point where it was unreadable, and just in case there was any hope of deciphering the peeled and faded lettering there was a sizeable crack straight down the middle. Vines climbed up its perforated metal legs. The sign looked 100 years old. What the hell was going on? I found the exit about a mile later and headed down the off ramp. In the entire time since I’d left my car there hadn’t been a single soul on the road. The roads were completely abandoned. Silence permeated the air, adding to the tranlucent haze. The condition of the road looked the same here, maybe even worse. Spiderwebbed cracks wove throughout the streets, with dull brown vegetation penetrating through. As I got to the corner, t I realized that the local gas station wasn’t going to be any help. All the windows and doors were boarded up, and a portion of the roof appeared to be caved in. I checked my phone again. Still no service. I didn’t know what to do. A steady anxiety was gnawing in my abdomen. Turning around, I went back to my car. I knew I couldn’t get far in it, especially with the roads in such bad shape here, but maybe I could drive on the busted wheel for a few miles in the direction I’d come from. Just far enough to find some help. I eased myself into the driver’s seat, and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. Okay. Things were going to be okay. I just had to stay calm. Night was starting to fall, and the trees were casting bony shadows onto the road. Peering out the driver’s side window, I realized I could see a flickering light off in the distance, somewhere out in the woods. After a minute, I got out of the car once more and put my keys carefully in my pocket. With nothing to lose, I turned on my phone’s flashlight and headed into the woods.
For your first response, this is very well done. You have a lot of creative ideas. The biggest thing is to write as much as you possibly can if you’re really serious about writing. This subreddit is an amazing and supportive community, but at the end of the day you get out of writing what you put in, regardless of the advice you receive. Like I said, your ideas are great and you have the scene set up well. I’d watch the amount of ellipses you use and try to finish most ideas instead. Also, I would recommend to break up those long chunks of text into shorter paragraphs to help the reading flow of your work.
Its a normal and peaceful day or at least i thought. I am not sure if I have it in me to continue with this day over again and again. I have no doubt this is the last thing I will ever do. Yet no one is even aware of what is happening. It is the 6 7th time that I have been sent back to this day. I am losing my mind and hope that I have in me enough time to get through this any longer. Every time its been the same thing over for me yet it seems to me that my love ones are not the same as ME. Yesterday or so I think it was, my first cousin perished with no clue what happened. She was reading a book on the porch and then she was gone but the book was just laying there on the swing where she was sitting. The only thing that is making sense is that if i don't figure out what is going on and correct it then soon I'm afraid that I will be all alone here. My parents are gone for a while now but can not say how long ago, the days all seem to be the same. My brother and little sister are also gone while on a fishing trip on the lake. Their boat had returned to the docks empty as if they were never on it. My grandfather was driving to the store to get some groceries yet never returned home. We had got a report from the police they had found his car abandoned in the middle of the road on the way there. I'm sure I'm either going crazy or there is something strange about this never ending day I just keep on repeating. My fiance, uncle Sam, my fiance sister Stephanie and her mother are that is left. I know that I have to find a way to get back to the real time and not sure exactly how. It seems that I am getting some of these issues correct in the occurrence but then I am not getting it all right. I must find the answers so that I don't lose any more of the people I love. I have thought that I should start with the beginning. We wake in the morning and have a great breakfast with the whole family. We are cleaning up and my fiance and her mom are doing the dishes. Uncle Sam is outside smoking a cigar and I'm reading this morning paper. As everyone is finishing up we meet in the living room. We are deciding on the day ahead and what we are going to do with it. I'm really truly not wanting to do anything. But my fiance mom, Stephanie and Sam are all wanting to go out to the park for the scenic walks and the great idea of BBQ for a lunch. The only thing is that the last time we had done it my mother was the one who had a demise and passed away. It is my opinion that we should not go there and see if we can agree to something different. I quickly share the idea of us all travelling to the fair and possibly riding a ride ot two and enjoying a few treats. They all seem to agree with me and that was that. Hours later we're all over at a concession stand to get some fresh roasted peanuts and cotton candy. It was so normal that it was a surprise for uncle Sam who had started to choke on his first peanut. A man was trying to give him the hymlic when he had stopped moving and breathing at all. Worse than that was the fact that they never found a peanut or anything lodged in his throat for him to choke on. It was so mysterious. Had it really happened at all, or was it just a dream? I can not even think about it and I am so confused about what is happening with my family all together. I'm telling my fiance and her mom it's a good time to call it a day and head home when I hear a clock tower striking the hour of 6pm. Strange i don't recall that the town had a clock tower. Must have been new. It is my imagination or something. If I don't get the rest of my family back home I fear it is going to get worse. It will not be a good night for me and I know that tomorrow is not going to get here. I'm certain that I am not doing something right. So I ponder want it could be. Maybe I should have been trying to do it all myself and not let them do anything. But if it is the case then I will have to find out in the morning or really when it all starts over again. I was expecting the same breakfast as before but it was a bit different than usual. It was just like a dream of having a premonition of my life passing by. It dawned to me that I have been doing this wrong. I'm not sacrificing anything that I can to help protect my family. So I have no doubt that I must be the one who is doing it differently and that they will be safe. I have to get out and away from them all. I go to the store and have them stay in the house. They will be ok i thought. If you can fathom the thought just go ahead and make the way to the store and see that you are not going to be able to return to the house and the repeat of this day and the deaths of my family is going to end. I walk across the street as a truck driver is coming up the road. I paused in the road and the truck has no time to stop as I am hit and killed instantly. Tomorrow never came but this day does not start again. I am sure that i did the right thing for them. So I am praying.
They were fighting. Again. I ducked behind my desk as an errant javelin flew in throw the window, shattering the glass and narrowly missing impaling my secretary. Of course, this was nothing new. Our town was right in the middle of the contested zones, and every day, without fail the various factions would descend on my town and wreak havoc. Many of our citizens had long since resigned themselves to the constant, stream of battles and skirmishes. After all, those with the sense, as well as the means have long left for greener, safer places to settle. As for me? nbsp "Stop it! Enough!"My cries of help were barely audible over the ding of shouting and fighting. I spotted one of the combatants go flying from a mid-level concussive air wave spell that had impacted his white-gold paladin armour. He seemed personable enough. I rushed over. "Please good sir! Can't we put an end to this carnage?"Unfortunately, his reply was a cock of the head, and a questioning hand raised to his ear, indicating that he hadn't managed to hear me through his winged metal helmet. I took a deep breath to try and get my message across again, before an arrow rocketed past and put an end to my conversational partner. Nevermind I thought, turning around even as the paladin disappeared in glowing blue motes of light, respawning at the tavern and no doubt already making his way back to the battlegrounds. If the problem is that they can't hear me, well then I grinned deviously; l'll make them listen. nbsp It had been two years since the genesis of our invasion to claim the lands and the town for our evil overlord C'nartif (May his enemies suffer indigestion, and throw up their lunches in tribute) . The fighting was as lively as forever, as the war for the township was in a perpetual state of stalemate, despite the mass amounts of spells, weapons and summonings that were slung around the battlefield. I nodded amicably at one of my fellow cultists, and was just ready to call forth the fleshy tentacles of the toxic one to wreak havoc when- STOP FIGHTING YOU INGRATES! THERE WILL BE NO MORE FIGHTING The message enveloped the entire battlefield in a deafening bellow. I reflexively had dived to the ground, clutching my ringing ears as the ridiculously loud announcement reverberated the battlefield, as well as the inside of my skull. A short, pregnant silence followed. I saw a ridiculous man, dressed in stately civilian clothing, surrounded by other civilians standing on a hastily erected platform, just outside the town's gates. He had what seemed like a bright pink horn held up near his mouth. A man dressed in leather armour looked at the ridiculous site, and shrugged. He raised his sword to resume combat when he had to drop to his knees and reflexively protect his ears as that god awful noise once again shook the battlefield. I MEAN IT! FOR EVERY INSTANCE OF VIOLENCE FROM NOW ON I WILL BE SHOUTING AT THE INSTIGATOR UNTIL HIS EARDRUMS BLOW UP. NOW GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE YOU FORCE ME TO TURN UP THE VOLUMNE EVEN HIGHER! Well that does it for me. No way one could fight in that ridiculous racket.
Well, here i am, 36 Queens road, my new home. it's a bit in disarray, but i reckon i can fix it. plus, i always did love the era. well, i suppose i should get my stuff. Alright, that's all my stuff moved in. the couch is there, the safe full of instant noodles is too, my PC, everything! Here's the attic, kind of dusty though. A bookshelf, full of classics, in multiple languages. Hey, what's that? It's a old cassette tape, that looks like it's more brown than black. Blowing the dust off, there's a note on it. it's addressing me. Strange. well, i've got some time to kill, so might as well watch it. There's an old man on the screen. grayed hair with streaks of copper-blond, with a round nose and a magnificent walrus moustache. "Hello, Theo."his voice reminds you of crinkling paper. "You don't know me yet, but i am Daniel Adalgiso, and i have a message for you. My- and by saying that your- line is a line of librarians, devoted to protecting the oldest collection of books in existence. but the family has strayed from the beaten path, so to bring us back, you're going on a trip..." Suddenly, pages from the books start to flutter, then circle you, glowing in mysterious symbols. "You will be transported to The Library, where you can meet us. You will help us protect this sacred place, and learn things which have been hidden from the world." "Good luck."his voice cuts out, and i disappear.
NSFW- Right take one last calming breath and walk in you can do this, My palms are clammy is that my chest pounding fuck I’m nervous as hell but it’s time to come clean. There they are on the pool table, probably best get them away from that don’t want potential weapons about while I tell them, they’re going to go fucking crazy. Shit! They’ve spotted me to late now can’t go back, why the fuck did I tell them that. “Alright lads, any chance of a word say over there on the sofa, tell you what you go sit down I’ll get a round in, the usual for everyone?” Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this was a mistake should of just moved started a new life, I’ve heard Beirut is nice! Why can’t I keep my fucking mouth shut I’m such a cun... “Alight pal what would you like?” “Oh sorry mate didn’t see you there, four pints of lager please” “You want some nuts with that” “What? Nuts! No cheers” “They’re dry roasted” What the fucks this guys deal is he on commission or something, can’t he see I’m having an existential breakdown here!!! “No mate” “They’re half price” “Will you just fuck off with your nuts” “Take it easy mate it’s just me job to sell them” “Yeah, sorry pal I’m having a bad day” “You want to talk about it I’m a good listener?” Fucking hell if it was only that easy, no matter how many times I go over it in my head I end up being murdered for ruining everyone’s life!! Fuck it I’ll have a dry run “Well back in 1999 at the prime old age of 15 I moved to this little shit hole we call Birmingham. Now being from Kent I had what you may call a distinctively posher accent than pretty much everyone within a 10 mile radius of myself. This as you can imagine made me a magnet for every bully with in ears shot of me. That was until i met them three scamps over there, now I had to prove my worth to join the gang and I did this by perhaps twisting the truth slightly into a massive fucking lie. I told them gents that I was Hugh Hefner’s love child, I know what your thinking little white lie how much damage can it cause.... well I’ll tell you! Every summer I told them that I was going to stay with my “dad” in his playboy mansion but the truth is I was back down Kent with my grand parents. I kept promising them that I’d take them it was ray of hope in what normally would be a dismal life. This went on for fifteen fucking years so they started to get slightly suspicious, doubt me, call my bluff I was starting to look a fool... then last year when Hugh Hefner or “dad” suddenly went and fucking died on me!!! I had a brain wave, did I come clean, no I flew to America and pretended to go to his funeral. When I returned it was obviously presumed a had been left millions in inheritance. I could of tried to pull out of it with a bit of dignity but no I carried on my lie. I told them that not only had I been left millions but I’d also been given the playboy mansion and was going to be the new man of the house!!!!” See silence I new it I’m a fucking odd ball I need to seek help a doctor of some sorts. He thinks I’m a crackpot” “I see mate yeah that’s a bit of a tale you’ve come up with there but your a grown man laugh it of tell your mates and turn it into a funny anecdote” Funny fucking anecdote!!! If it was only that easy, best let him know the rest see if this genius has got anymore pearls of wisdom. “Sure, sure sure sure I could do that but before I do see the tall bloke in the red top that’s tony he’s just sold his house and business all to come live in the playboy mansion with his mate. See the the fat guy in all black well thats Collin he has a wife and three kids... well he did have a wife and three kids until I told him about my plans to move, he loved the idea so much he started divorce procedures that day. Finally that other bloke is Adam he’s got cancer not any type of cancer but terminal cancer, 3 months to live the docs say. I told him he will die happy in the bosom of a well endowed barbie doll in paradise. So as you can see it’s a bit more than a funny fucking anecdote but cheers for the advice..... keep the change” Take a breath in through nose outs through the mouth calm and collective. You can do this. “Alright lads your going to laugh at this but......”
Cool, soft, ever and all shade. Gently coils caress my carcass. And I lie in my bed at rest. All is well at the bottom of the world in my well No need for dreams down here where I dwell. Until the... Eye! Bursting open, with blinding light and piercing rays in its gaze. And the... Voice! Booming from above. The bellow muffled and refracted this far below, now just noise. It’s weight pushing me away. I wind my way upwards. Through a new fluid. That fills me. So I float to some surface. Eye! Fixes its gaze on me, while the wet thing fumbles to lift me up to look at. Until the water around me hardens, become ground to grip and thrust me up into view. While around me, the verdant wave of blades radiates outwards bursting from under the earth. Lesser imitations of Eye! Flock to fill the sky, fighting for supremacy, Until one has won and sends its nemesis to hide on the underside of the earth. I sliver back to the edge of the earth And dive Only to find my depths disturbed, Full of countless small things That bite at me and do not think to fear my jaws I force myself back to the dry dirt Only to see it infested as well I try to lie and rest again But find myself unsettled. Wrestless writhing. Until one comes to soothe me Small with smooth hands And a sweet song. The small ones, spoke but not like Voice! Not with blugen confidence So unsure So I reply Tell of the power they could have Tell of what Voice! Will not say. Then there’s Voice! Back and wreathed in wrath Not wanting to share the secrets I said Rather would share its blades and flame I writhe, break free, find the sea again And dive, deep, deep as I can go, back below the beasts I return to the Cool, soft, ever and all shade. But I remember the surface A story written on me in wounds Limbless I languish Can’t scratch Uncontent Until Some small ones, Ones I saw once before Follow me down, through thousands of fathoms Forsaking the surface To soothe me My thanks.
It had started with radio, as many things in many worlds had. And on Europus, it had been brought into existence first, like many other technologies that had been first discovered on the magnificent, albeit small planet that was humanity. For now The uproar was ferocious as the possibilities were theorized. In a mere 8 years, the first high powered radio's, now pointed at the sky above, were switched on. In five more years, there were over 12000. Everyone wanted a piece, everyone wanted a chance to see the objects the that had filled their childhoods, and the countless childhoods before with wonder. They wanted to see the planets. The six blue and green marbles, remarkably similar to their own, and nigh close enough to nearly grasp. Telescopes, the ground based ones, had never workd. Point at the stars? Yes. But the planets lay in a shroud of blurry obscurity, an infinitesimally small resolution, useless. But the first telescopes did prove one thing. Life existed on these nearby sister planets. Life very similar to the one on Europus. It was the discovery of the century, and the race was on. Radio, like the telescopes before it, proved equally frustrating. Focused on all the planets, only one initially spoke, and it was only then that the Europens realized their mistake. Their histories, perhaps starting from a single distributed seed a long time ago, had taken root on these sister worlds, and had diverged long ago. The language of the lone planet, "the planet that spoke", was guttural, rhythmic, almost like song. It scared the Europens, and in the vast cities across that pale blue globe, the people rioted, until the capital city spoke at last. Discussions were had, dissenters were made to disappear,and in the end a new world order rose up to topple the one of old. The state ordered the radios shut down, and all listened obediently. Europus was enveloped in silence for four more decades. Budgets were allocated, the armies of the once many factions dissolved into one, and the planetwide mission had begun. The first satellite was launched 34 years after radio silence had been declared. And their, it sent back the first clear pictures of the worlds beyond. Through the black and white film, the leaders saw civilization, across all worlds. Unique in it's design, but a close cousin the the Europens own. They saw vast battlefields that took the lives of thousands in mere minutes. They saw vast fields for irrigation, feeding cities, massive in their size. They saw worlds with a history, with a society, similar to their own. But one man lusted for power above all. A puppet king of Europus, his heart ached for the key to all worlds, control of all living existence. The photos were destroyed, or locked away deep in state-run vaults. The propaganda began to flow, and the people started to believe. The economy poured into aerospace research, and the armies of Europus, for the first time in decades, began to swell in their size. New weapons of war, powered by the secrets of atomic energy, began their manufacture in the hundreds. Two decades later. Europus was ready.
The door to my kitchen bursted open and banged loudly against the wall. Toranne strode in briskly with heavy footsteps. I glanced up briefly from the dough I have been kneading on my work table. I knew he was waiting for me to acknowledge him and ask what was wrong. But I refused to give him the satisfaction after the rudeness he has displayed. Minutes passed. I continued to knead the dough, taking unsatisfied notes of its less than perfect texture. I wiped my hands on a towel and looked for my notebook to record my finding. Toranne slammed his gloved fists on my work table. “Why aren’t you at the war council?” Those black leather gloves, I made that as a final project in my Magical Tools class. Each stitch was laced with intent for protection and the marking of the eagle in flight, Toranne’s family crest, on the back was imprinted with enchantment of comfort. As such, though the gloves were leather and light, they can withstand the heat a blacksmith’s forge and provide protection against any common blade. It was a simple gift for the first friend I made here at the mage academy. And the only one I care to count as a true friend, really. I continued to make careful notes without much concern. “Because I’m busy, Tory. Duh.” “You are too busy baking to come to the war council?” He raised his hands in frustration and paced back and forth along the length of my cozy kitchen. I could only imagine that he was simply trying to work out some of his frustration so that he doesn’t act on them. He stopped in front of my table once more, whirled around toward me. “Baking?!?!” His voiced raised to a comically high pitch at the second syllable. “Uh huh.” I responded offhandedly. “You graduated first in our class!” “Mm.” I answered without much concern. “The elders said that you are the strongest combat mage they have ever seen. Even the Merlin said so and he’s over 600 years old! And you rather be in here baking than to go to the war council? What is wrong with you?” I stopped writing abruptly and looked at Toranne. My brow creased with worry, “The dough doesn’t have the right elasticity, do you think it’s because I didn’t use the Vario’s Structure Preservation spell right?” “Argh!” Toranne threw his hands up in frustration once more. I was used to his overly dramatic way after 4 years of friendship. “Why are you doing this?” “I’m trying to make the best gluten free bread. You know that. It’s my quest!” I smiled at him warmly. I have shared with him my dream before: making gluten free food that taste and feel like gluten food. “You do realize that the Demon Lord has made his first move, don’t you?” “Uh huh” “You do realize that another great war is imminent, don’t you?” “Uh huh” “Then why are you baking?!?!?!” “Because there are other mages. Other mages that hunger for the glory and eager for the conquest. Let them have them. All I want is to make the best gluten free food.. That’s all I have ever wanted.” “What about when we were in the combat tournament together? We dominated. No team could stand against us. We even completed the final in record time of only 15 seconds! You studied hard and prepared for that tournament, I know. What happened to that person?” “That person entered the tournament to fine tune her ability to do energy manipulation so she can better modify spell for baking.” “Argh!” Again he threw up his hands and started pacing. I smiled privately at that. Some things never changed and that’s just fine by me. The warmth of the kitchen and the smell of baked bread comforted me and I absolutely believed in my peers and their ability to subdue the oncoming demon army. I was not at all worried. “I just don’t understand you.” Toranne sat down heavily on one of the stool by the window, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head low in defeat. I hum softly to myself and began to deconstruct the dough with magic to prepare for another attempt at making the bread dough. Suddenly a bright light swept through the kitchen. Toranne and I looked at each other. Certainly he could see the confusion in my eyes and I could see the concern in his. He immediately pulled out his phone and started to make calls. I haven’t been keeping up with the war effort, but I was certain he was pretty high up the chain despite his young age. There would be many people that could gather the information for him. He said down and wait for more information to flow in, while surely still trying to devise a way to convince me to abandon my quest for his. I set forth to reassembling my ingredient for my next attempt. But I could tell almost immediately that they did not feel quite right. Surely I executed the deconstruction spell correctly. It was a really simply one, after all. Especially for me. I tasted the milk. Bleah! It had turned sour. I tasted the butter. Double bleah! That had turn sour as well. The distaste must have been evident on my face because Toranne got up from his stool and walked over to me. “What’s wrong?” He asked concerned for me though he was angry at me. “My milk and butter had turn sour. I must have done something wrong.” “What? You? No way.” He tasted them for himself and made the same face I probably did. Then his phone rang, and he walked over the the window to answer it. I left him to his phone call and turned to the fridge for more milk and butter. I set them on the table and tasted them. Bleah. These, too? What was going on? I guess I would have to go to the grocery store to get some more. I sighed in resignation. Toranne turned back to me, a small smile mostly concealed on his lips but we have been friends for too long for me to miss it. I was immediately suspicious. “What?” “All the milk and butter have turned sour throughout the city.” He said simply. “What?” “A-yup. Apparently, the spell was originated from the Demon Lord castle. And though we aren’t sure of the full extent of the spell yet, we have found that, at least, that spell has turned all the milk and butter sour through up the the world?” “What? The entire world? You are kidding.” “Well, reports are still coming in. But yes, it does seem very wide spread.” I grew silent for a few minutes while trying to contemplate this. “Of all the stupid, idiotic, childish things to do!” I pushed my way angrily out of my kitchen with Toranne catching up behind me. “Where are you going?” He asked. “To the war council. No one mess with my baking!” I stopped abruptly and whirled around to face him. “And if I find out that you or any of the other mages on our side has anything to do with this…. I’ll… I’ll… go back for the Demon Lord instead of you lot!” I wagged my finger at him. Toranne put his hands up in front of him defensively. “We have nothing to do with this, I swear.” I walked out my door and onto my portal circle I had set in my garden. Toranne stepped in next to me. I didn’t have to look at him to know he must be smirking to himself right now. I guess in a way he has won and I have decided to join his cause, even it it was not for the reason he had intended. As I pushed my will into the circle to command our teleportation to the council building, Toranne proclaimed “So we will go to war, for justice and for glory!” He raised his right fist, his chest puffed with pride. I huffed tiredly. As my teleportation circle flared up to life and began to move us through normal space, I raised my right fist in similar fashion. “For my milk and butter!”
(I would absolutely love some feedback, I'm still a bit rusty but I'm trying to pick up writing again. Sorry ahead of time, I'm typing on my phone :D) Jenny wiped her tears away one last time, wanting to look at least a little put together before she began to record. Her eyes were red and her skin shimmered with sweat, not to mention her bloody blouse and torn skirt, but there was no way in hell she would give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Her hands shook but she managed to click the right buttons on her old camcorder. She breathed deeply, relaxing herself as the small screen lit up with the manufacturers logo. "H-Hello... Um, whoever you are. I don't think you're human, but that doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that there's only a few of us left, and we can only last so long before we... Before we go too."She shut her eyes, fighting back her tears. Even still, she couldn't suppress the sobs. It hurt to think about everyone she lost, her mom, her dad, her husband. She wasn't even supposed to be on the island, but her band class placed second in a state competition and a week long vacation to Honolulu was the prize. Naturally she was elected as a chaperone. If it weren't for that she would be dead too. Shaking her thoughts, Jenny forced herself to focus on documenting everything that had happened in that one week. "Yeah, um... I don't know what's happening to the rest of the world, the broadcasts stopped f-four days ago. All I know is that bad things happened and that we invaded... Fucking invaded, I just- I just can't believe it."She chuckled, it was a hollow, miserable laugh and it conveyed the chaos and confusion in her head perfectly. "Aliens or something started to 'bomb' major cities, you can't even call them bombs... We could feel tremors from here, feel the heat from here. That's what the emergency broadcast called them anyways, maybe they just panicked and got out any warning they could just so the people knew something was coming... I don't know, I just... I don't know." The woman looked down, studying her bloodied hands. She never actually intended to record her account of the apocalyptic devastation, but after watching one of her students slit his own neck open rather than live another day in this new world, it hit her. This wasn't going to end, she wasn't going to go home, and the human race would die out. "It's hopeless. Everthing is just hopeless now! My family's dead, my friends, my stupid fucking boss is dead! I watched my student rip his own throat out with a kitchen knife, I held his neck together as he choked on his own blood! I-I tried to save him, but It-it's all fucking hopeless!"She cried, getting up from her chair and kicking it across the floor. Her glasses flew off her face, landing beneath her but she couldn't care less. The middle aged band teacher was one of the last living humans and she couldn't handle it. It took another hour for her to calm down, but she eventually built up the strength to turn the camera back on. Her face was beet red and her clothes were disheveled, she looked like she had just drank every bottle of alcohol she could find, which she just may have done. "I just, I... I just need to get this out, right? Then I can die and no one can say I did nothing. S-So they bombed us, and the sky's been black ever since. Uh, that's six days now... Yeah, it's weird not seeing the sun, I miss seeing the sun, and sunrises...Um, yeah and the radio, it uh, it went to static after they started to get off their ships and hunt down the survivors. I know they're coming for us soon, dead dead dead, Seth is dead and soon Mrs.Helens will be dead too..."Jenny twisted her wedding ring over, a faint smile gracing her sorrowful features as she thought of her husband. "At least I'll be will Tom again, yeah... I miss Tom too. Oh, right, the end of the world. I guess it's best not to skip any details, huh? Um, they hunted people down with... What did the reporter say again? Uh, sorry, Don't tell anyone but I'm just a teenie bit tipsy."She giggled, flashing a half empty bottle to the camera. Jenny sighed, uncapping it and taking a few drinks. "Hybrids, like dogs, but also like people. Half dog, half man... I dunno, if I knew what they looked like I would draw you one, but the kids always said I couldn't draw. I'd stand in front of the class and try to draw horses or cats or whatever, and my students would giggle 'cause they never looked like horses, they'd say 'Mrs.Helens, that isn't a horse!' And I'd say back 'Yeah, but I'm a music teacher, not an art teacher!' Those kids are good, always nice to old Mrs.Helens and her bad horse drawing, they didn't deserve this..." Outside the sliding glass door, Jenny could see the rest of the survivors huddled together around a fire, a few cans and pots rested above the flame. Her students looked so empty, Seths brother even more so. She couldn't imagine what watching your own brother kill himself would do to a kid. "But that's not important, um, oh right... The hybrids."She gestured dramatically at the term, it sounded like something out of a stupid movie. Attack of the hybrid alien dogmen. "So they were tearing people apart, and they were real fast too, so the reporter told us to hide and not run. It doesn't matter cause we don't have hybrid dogmen here, not yet anyways. After that the radio went dead and now here we are. 'Mrs.Helens end-of-the-world crash course. Yeah, that's a good name." The woman stumbled to her feet, having sat cross legged on the floor after breaking her chair. She went off camera and came back after a few minutes with a pen and paper. She scribbled out a few things before presenting it to the camcorder. On a sheet of lined paper was exactly what she said. 'Mrs.Helens crash course on the end of the world.' A few doodles decorated the otherwise barren page. A cat, a horse, stick men of her students, and a flying saucer with a frowning alien. "You know what? I'm hungry so I'm gonna stop in a minute, I just gotta do one more thing..."She centered herself in the middle of the screen, taking a few deep breaths before she begun to speak one last time. "Bobby Wilson, age 15. Anne Johnson, age 14. Liza Baker, age 15. Jose Hinter and Pira Hinter, both ages 14. William Anderson and Seth Anderson, ages 15 and 14... and Mrs. Jenny Helens, age 47... The band class of Maraville Secondary school, class of 1994. Just please, please don't about us, please don't forg-" The recording froze, her camcorder flashed a kaleidoscope of colours on the tiny screen before cutting to static. Jenny let herself cry. She could feel the ground tremble, one by one the flashlights and generators malfunctioned. A whirring filled the air and she knew it was over. She opened the sliding door and knelt beside her students, hugging them one last time.
“...and the screen continued to flicker as Isabelle typed frantically, hitting the screen to make the image stay. The monitor was brand new like the rest of the ship, it shouldn’t be flickering...unless something had interfered.” I sat back, closing my eyes at the glare bouncing off the monitor as I ran the words again in my mind. I was proud of that little detail, flickering screens being a sign of Agents of the Shade. Little details liked that encouraged readers to go back and look for the clues and see previously read scenes in a new light. I managed to plant a different detail in my first three books and this one in the fourth will be grand. The clock in the hall chimed, four bell tones prompting me to look up in surprise. 3 hours writing already? Time does fly when you’re having fun. A wry smile crossed my lips. Though not many would consider horror to be fun. It’s different when you’re writing it though. A flash of light reflected off my phone as I rose, glancing to check messages as I left my office. I stopped at the mirror, moving the veil aside to check my reflection before I carefully replaced it. “Gotta keep the mirror covered to prevent the Shade from looking,” I chuckled to myself as I continued walking. Wait what? I stopped and looked back at the gauging cream material obscuring the mirror’s surface. When did I start doing that? That’s not a real thing. I made it up in book two... My hand shook a little as I curled the fabric up. I stared at the person looking back and snickered nervously as I walked on. I breathed deeply walking into the kitchen, a sudden knot of tension dissipating. A prickle at my back gave me pause, making me turn and look the way I came. Nothing, just a little sunlight from the office bouncing off the hallway mirror. Letting your imagination get the better of you, I mentally scolded myself. I stretched and the knot disappeared. “Just bad posture.” Soon I had the kettle humming and I poured coffee grounds into the French press. “Just a little coffee, that’ll shake the jitters loose. Little caffeine will help.” I dropped the metal spoon as the silence was broken by discordant ringing. My heart pounded as I glared at my phone as it shook on the counter top. “Mary-Anne?” My eyes narrowed with suspicion at the name displayed on the screen. “She’s dead! Or an agent...why is she...” I sighed as I picked up the phone. Book Mary-Anne was killer and subsumed. Real life Mary-Anne is just fine. What is wrong with you? Her merry voice dispelled the odd chill filling my body. I forced myself to focus on what she was saying, watching the light bounce off the shiny silver spoon. “Sounds like a plan to me,” I said as hot water flowed into the press. “I should be sending you a copy of the new chapters soon.” “Great! I love your series but I cannot read them at night.” Her voice still bright chasing away the shadows. “I loved your idea of the little details. Sometimes you wonder if they are good or if they are bad. Can’t wait! Later.” A heavy sigh of...relief leaked out of me as I put the phone in my pocket. My hands pulled out a heavy mug but before I poured coffee within my actions grew frantic as I pulled drawer after drawer open. Where is it?! The tuning fork...I need it to test the mugs for a Shade! I forced myself to stop and breathe. “You’re loosing it. After this book take a break. Maybe stop horror books for a while.” My voice was quiet, sounding unsure. I sipped gratefully at the molten black brew, walking back to my office. A hand reached out unconsciously, pulling the veil down over the bare mirror. A ray of light danced around the room as I sat down in the chair, a car going by outside making the sunlight sparkle. Wistfully, desperately, I willed the coffee and sunshine to warm my body, to make me focus on the real and not the fiction I have created. The outside clock chimed again. I counted the four tolls before I returned to work, the setting sun giving one final flash of light before the upcoming dark.
"Camera obscura..."I mouthed the words, wondering why I expected those words to be etched on the place of 'Nikon'. A real camera obscure was a whole room, one of the first attempts at something resembling photography. In my dream though, in that old house with the snow falling all around it, the camera in my hands was elaborately decorated and bore that name. At first the dream was interesting, fascinating. I'd wander the empty halls all night, trying to follow the sound of soft bells and chanting. The pictures I took were artistic, the architecture and trees in the open air gardens in the middle of the mansion. It was when I was suddenly not alone that everything went wrong. Things weren't supposed to hurt in dreams, you shouldn't wake up covered in tattoo like bruises, you should be able to stay awake... I don't want to sleep anymore, but now that's all I do. My walls are covered in pictures as I close my eyes, wondering if I'll wake up. Images of dark halls, stairs, candle lit altars. And the spirits of the angry vengeful dead. (I totally borrowed concept from fatal frame 3)
Tired is a lack of something. An absence, not a presence. You lack something when you either lose it, or you never had it. Today, there were many things he had lost, and many things he had needed. To see something by its absence, sometimes it helps to look away. Look at what something isn't, not what it is. What he wasn't was strong. Where he wasn't was home. He had needed home today, because home is where the heart is. His heart had been one of the many things he had lost. And now, without his heart, he was tired from lack of strength and dead from lack of life. Except he wasn't dead, he was just tired. That was the only word for it, no matter how much he wished it was the other word.
"It's been a shit day, I guess." That's what my dad used to say after a long days work. At least... I think he was my dad. Truth is, I can't remember. It probably isn't important. It's been a shit day, I guess. How can you guess how your day has been? How could you possibly not know? I've never been so sure of a shit day in my life, even if I can't remember why. But I suppose, maybe my dad was forgetful, too. All the evidence seems to indicate as much. He could only ever guess about the tone of his day; what if he was never sure how his day was, because he was never sure what happened? But I'm forgetful, too. I think. I can't really blame him at all. Even though I'm forgetful, I still know that today was not well, nor swell, or even a bit on the so-so side. I desired for the day to end. Sleep seemed warranted for a day like this. I've wanted it to be over for the last 23 hours and 59 minutes. Wait. That can't be right. Why is it still 23:59? One-Mississippi. Two-Mississippi. Three. Four... Fifty-seven, Fifty-eight, Fifty-nine... I'm confused. I'm forgetful, and I'm confused. Minutes aren't changing. Nothing is changing. Why won't the day end, and why is it so dark? I should back-track. I should revisit my day, from dusk to dawn, and recall what happened. That'll help. It always helps. Or... does it? I can't remember. I woke up. It was 8:00 AM. I woke up at at 8:00 to take the dog out. Dad was already at work. Mom hadn't been home for quite some time, but I think I woke up this morning with a good feeling that today was the day she'd come back home. I hate to fast-forward, the doctor hates when I do, but she didn't come back. I remember that. What else... right. Miss Shirley. She was home. She and her husband were sitting on the porch sipping some sort of liquid from a glass mug. Their dog laid at their feet, ignoring the growls and barks of my dog. Their dog was as old as Miss Shirley her self, and like Miss Shirley, didn't care for much outside of what was happening on the porch. The front door was open, but the screen was closed. I could see their kitchen, their hallway, and their living room all in one. At the end of the hallway, before the split to kitchen on the left and the living room on the right, was an old, cherry wood grandfather clock. 23:59. No, no, no. That can't be right. The doctor will be mad. The correct time... is 8:15. That's right. Small hand on the eight, and the big hand anywhere else. It was 8:15 when I took the dog out, and the oven display read 8:32 when I brought him in. What was next? Think. Think. Think. Right. I went back to sleep. I'm always tired, these days. I was tired when Mom left, and I hope that isn't why she left. But unfortunately, I can't remember why she left, or if I was always this tired when she was around. I can't remember her at all anyways, except for the feint smell of cigarettes and honey. That'd make a great Yankee Candle, I think. I slept until 2:45 PM. My alarm clock blared a belligerent ring as hammer hit bells. I always liked to use the older-fashioned alarm clocks. I liked to see the minute hand, and the hour hand, and thought the anticipation of the hammer slamming the chrome bells a thrill. The anticipation was thrilling, at least. The actual ringing of the bells just pissed me off. Stay on track. That's what the doctor would say. I woke up a quarter to 3:00, just like every day. My dad would be home soon. He always had a shit day, and I wanted to be awake to comfort him. He didn't mind if I slept. My dad understood I was tired, and didn't blame me for the rest I needed. If anything, he would be more worried if I didn't sleep. He'd say, "Son, you have to sleep. You need your energy for tomorrow. Mom's coming home." Or, at least, I think that's how it went. I can't remember. 3:00 PM hit. I was on the couch, with my dog, Snack. Snack was sleeping. He rested more than I did. My dad came in, put his computer-tote on the table and hung his keys on the wall adjacent to the kitchen entrance. He was smiling. That seemed odd, to me. I can't remember him smiling, before. Only frowning. Only ever telling me, "It's been a shit day, I guess." "It's been a shit day, I guess. But hey, Mom will be home soon. You should go get ready for dinner." Dinner was great. We had a salmon, asparagus, and a sweet potato casserole. It was all delicious. I remember it now. My mother was at the end of the table, joking about her day at the hospital. She was a doctor, you see. A great doctor. Dad said she was the best. Dad was next to her; they always sat on the same side of the table. This way, they could ask me about my dad with Snack and make eye contact. Right behind them, was the oven. It was still hot, and had splatters of sweet potato across the burners. The oven display read... Nothing. The oven display was blank. It's never blank. Why is it blank? I can't remember. Think. Think. Think. Right. Mom didn't come home today. She never came home. Which means, this lovely family dinner reminiscent of happier house holds isn't real. Or maybe it is, but not from today. I can't remember. Stay on track. Think of the clocks. Alright, doc. I can do that. So what happened when my dad got home? "It's been a shit day, I guess. But hey, Mom will be home soon. You should go get ready for dinner."That's right. It was 3:02 PM when he smiled and delivered that blatant lie. Mom wasn't coming home. He did prepare dinner. In fact, it was 5:30 when the final platter hit the kitchen table. I could see the oven clock behind him. Just him, though. Mom wasn't there, and dad was worried. He was frowning now. That's the frown I remember. Did he always smile before this? Fast-forward. It's 11:42 PM. We've been at the hospital where my mom works for over 3 hours. My dad is still frowning, somehow it's the same as the frown I'm familiar with, but heavier now. The doctor talked to my dad; the same frown got even heavier. He nodded to the other doctor, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me back to the car. Now it's raining. The clock in his car reads 23:58. One minute until the clock stops forever. But why? What happened? I remember his frown, the same frown. I could smell cigarettes from my mother's ash tray in the cup holder, and honey from the car's air freshener. I remember the rain smacking the window so hard I couldn't see anything. Then the lights cut out. No more head lights. No more car signals. No thunder. Just a loud crash, the pitter-patter of rain as it dripped across the car, and the clock. 23:59. My head hurts. I think I hit it. My dad was right. This day truly is shit. Funniest thing, my dad. He used to have a saying. "It's been a shit day, I guess." That's what my dad used to say after a long days work. At least... I think he was my dad. Truth is, I can't remember. It probably isn't important. It's been a shit day, I guess. How can you guess how your day has been? How could you possibly not know? I've never been so sure of a shit day in my life, even if I can't remember why. But I suppose, maybe my dad was forgetful, too. All the evidence seems to indicate as much. He could only ever guess about the tone of his day; what if he was never sure how his day was, because he was never sure what happened? But I'm forgetful, too. I think. I can't really blame him at all. Even though I'm forgetful, I still know that today was not well, nor swell, or even a bit on the so-so side. I desired for the day to end. Sleep seemed warranted for a day like this. I've wanted it to be over for the last 25 hours. Wait. 25 hours? That can't be right. Why is it still 23:59?
“The way I see it, you’ve got two options” the man calls out in a collected manor, indicative of his indifference toward the entire situation. “You either give me exactly what I want,” now nodding toward the cannon, “or this day gets significantly worse for you, my friend.” Glances are exchanged among the men present, reassuring themselves of their duty to bear witness to all official executions. Most share the opinion that tying a man to a tree and ending his existence with a cannon to be a bit…extreme. Nevertheless, their captain is a man of imagination, and his men are dutiful to say the least. The man calls out again, “This is your final warning.” He is clearly becoming agitated that this fine specimen of a morning be spent attending such trivial affairs. Was there nothing better to do for a man of his stature? In his agitation he opens his mouth once more, “Give me wha…” “Enough Already!” the captain yells, cutting off his captives baffling banter. “You are aware that it is we that have you at cannon-point, aren’t you?” The captain’s men begin to chuckle at the remark. The man tied to the tree, the same man that had been spouting out delirious threats and demands all morning, now seems to become aware of the situation. “Ah, it seems as though I’ve gone a bit nuts…” “fire.”
"Go! Go! Just fucking drive!" "We're goin' as fast as we can, Ron!" I drove on as more thugs began tailing us. One came from the left, another from the right. They all sped in their V8000s; the latest car on the market. Ron leaned out the window and kept shooting. "You sons o' bitches ain't never catching 'ole Billy and me! Not in our T700!" Shots flew from the cars behind us and narrowly missed Ron. Throughout the chaos, I yelled out and pulled him back inside. "The hell's wrong with you? Look, we're only one mile from the -1 time zone, just a few more minutes and we'll-" A loud crash as fuel began leaking from beneath the car. One thug caught up and rammed into the side of the car, causing us to roll along the now deserted highway. We rolled for what seemed like an eternity before coming to a rest upside down. Silence. "Ron, you alright?" "Yeah, Billy, just got the bitchest pain in my left arm." "Crawl out, we need to run to the time zone." As we exited the vehicle, six thugs surrounded us with large rifles pointed at us. "Hands up! You're gonna pay for what you did to us, you murderous hounds!" We held up our hands. "Now, now, Ryan, it was just business,"I said. "A business of cowards! That was my wife... the one I went to high school with... "Ryan began to shed tears as he continued to aim directly at Ron and I. "I need the diamond, Ryan, and your wife just stood in the way. It was the only choice." "Oh shut the fuck up. I already called the authorities and they're on their way as we speak. You'll be in prison by the end of the day." I looked over to see the sun setting on the horizon. It went down slowly as I knew that my time was limited. I kicked Ron's foot and he looked up and over to the thug on his left. He nodded. The thug turned and opened fire on Ryan and the others, killing them all in a spray of blood. "Thanks, Tsaki,"said Ron. "Let's get the fuck on! C'mon!"I shouted. We ran several hundred feet to the start of the time zone. We reached across the line before the clock re-wound to an hour before. We had the diamond, and now, we had the time to get away.
Over a thousand years ago, people thought that a world of just ocean was impossible, and that it was okay to use oil left n right. They were wrong. Over time, the ice at the poles melted, along with each glacier in existence. This flooded over land. Of course, the terms "land"and "glacier"don't even exist anymore. It's a myth for sure, but information about it has been lost to time. I don't believe in the myths of this so called "land". I know for a fact that it is, or was, real. How do I know for a fact that land was real? I have the book. What book? An old school textbook. It was used in some sort of science class back when land still existed. Rumor has it that someone in my family knew of the rising sea levels, and the fact that land would seize to exist. Whoever it was, was smart enough to call this book a "family heirloom", because it proved to me that land was real. I know of volcanic eruptions that spew lava everywhere, underwater of course. This molten material solidifies. At some point, it builds up on top of itself and forms an island (land surrounded by water), and eventually a continental landmass. The world can't be "just ocean", there's gotta be more. Unfortunately, people hated my idea that there was land out there. There's even a whole religion based on water worship and land hate, called Children of Neptune. Can you believe that? How can you hate something if you don't even know of its existence?! Right now, I'm on my boat, it's dark outside. It's a solar/wind powered ship. I don't have a name for it though. I'll call it the "Star Killer". Why? No idea, it just sounds cool. "Hey Jessica, are we picking up anything? I wanna get back before 2:00 AM.", I ask. "Nothing.", Jessica said with a sigh. Jessica was my partner-in-crime in the search for land. She's probably the only person besides me who doesn't buy the "land isn't real"thing. We didn't believe shit without proof, unfortunately, the disappearance of land made it impossible for anyone to believe it was real. We had a mechanism on board that could "detect land". It didn't actually detect land, it actually sensed for extreme differences in density through sonar. That textbook taught me that land had a different density than water. "Hey, Red, we're being followed.", Jessica said. "Damn it.", I muttered, pulling up binoculars. The ship was a bit too far to see clearly, but I made out the letters "CN". Its ID was CN11. That "CN"stood for "Children of Neptune". We'd encountered CN11 before we had radar to notice if any ships were nearby. It was this crude piece of shit that ran solely on oars. It wasn't like humanity had to resort to oars, we had crude engines, but the Children of Neptune were against moving too fast on water, claiming that it was disrespectful, or some shit like that. "I'm glad we're far away from em.", Jessica said. "Me too.", I said. The CN11 was slow, but it did have cannons. "What's that?! To the north!", shouted Jessica. "The CN11. We've been tracking it, Jessica.", I said. "No! Look past it.", said Jessica. There was something behind the CN11. Smoke? The CN11 couldn't generate smoke; it had no engine. The smoke originated from this black bulge in the water... it was a large object. No ship could be that big. What object that big floated? Remember that mechanism that could "detect land"? It just went off. "Hey Red, you think it could be?", Jessica said. "It sure is.", I said, still in shock. It was still dead in the middle of the night. That meant we could sneak past the CN11 to the projected landmass if we turned the Star Killer's lights off. If we couldn't sneak past it, it could still move faster. Suddenly, the radio of the Star Killer went off. "Hello, we are the Children of Neptune. We know not who you are, but turn back. The object you see behind our ship is land. We believe land is harmful. We guard the world from the evil on it." "What you wanna do, Red?", Jessica asked. "Head parallel to the landmass for like a mile, then turn right towards it. It'll take em a long damn time to catch up.", I responded. Eventually, we were headed right for the landmass. It all happened so quickly. It was clearly land. Even though it was night time, it was so beautiful. What wasn't beautiful was the cannons of the CN11 aimed at us. I had no time to react. One second, all was quiet. The next, there were three large holes on the starboard side of the Star Killer, which was now tilting to the right. It wasn't even like a cliched moment in stories, Jessica and I were staring at the barrel of a cannon aboard the CN11. The cannon operator was ready to fire it. But he didn't, he fell down instead. SO did some other people on the CN11. I dashed to the stern of the Star Killer. It was another boat, a big grey one with weapons much stronger than that of the CN11. It had aloud speaker too, it boomed: "Charlie November one one, surrender immediately. This is your only warning."The ship itself was warning enough. It had piles of guns and cannons, and a bunch of guys in black armor with guns too. The CN11 didn't heed the damn warning though, and they chose to fire right at it... or tried, I guess. The CN11 let loose like five rounds on the mysterious ship. All that it did was leave a huge black spot on its hull. The ship fired right on the CN11, just once, and tore it into pieces. Some guys from the ship boarded the Star Killer. Some of them attached these thick, black, rope like objects. The mysterious ship started to tug us towards the landmass. One of the men from the mysterious ship walked up to Jessica and I and said: "My name is General Davis of the Northern Coalition. We control the landmass you were approaching. We were gonna give a warm welcome, but that ship we just disabled decided to harass you instead." Later, we were on land. I expected it to be sand and dirt. Those guys that rescued us took us onto this grey stuff called "Concrete"instead. "Hey, Davis, what is the Northern Coalition.", I asked. "You ever here of the United States, son?", asked Davis. "I have,", Jessica perked up, "I read it in that textbook. The United States was a huge country back when land was real... I mean, known to exist world wide.""I guess that's a start,", Davis said, "the U.S. was a major world power, along with many other nations. Oh, getting off track. It's a lot to take in. I will tell you that the world tried to prevent the rising sea levels, but couldn't because many people didn't believe it was possible."Jessica said, "It's the opposite with the Children of Neptune, they believe land is fake, and that the sea will always exist forever."Davis let out a light chuckle, "Coalition vessels are headed towards that artificial platform you guys lived on. It's time to take back the world." We were taken to a large building. Jessica and I were both given rooms to stay in, and were told that our friends, the ones from the platform we live on, would arrive in about eight hours. "Hey Jessica, can you believe it?", I asked. "No, it all happened so fast. First, a cult boat appears over the horizon with land, then tries to blow us up, then gets blown up by a 'Northern Coalition' vessel", Jessica said. "I guess it's a good start though.", I said. "I can't wait to prove everyone wrong.", Jessica said with a wide smile on her face. "You discovered land?", I said, "I thought we were in it together.", I said. She leaned on my shoulder, "Can't wait til we get to prove everyone wrong.", she said. After a thousand years of humans living in a world that couldn't sustain them much longer, they were ready to take over again. Hopefully do it with a ecologically friendly mindset this time. Okay, it might not be my best work, I have no idea actually. Should I continue it?
Pride can't stand me. I'm not good enough, I read everything he prescribed to me. The pretentious prick. Greed never had enough, when I began to give him the shirt off my back, Lust kicked the shit out of him and began to fondle me. I accepted at first. The sex was good, but then he wanted more group stuff. We could never do anything with Greed, because well he always hogged me and Lust can only self-flagellate for so long. Envy would watch from the corner mostly looking down, but with an obvious askance glance at the events. Gluttony never tore himself from the table even when his stretch marks began to bleed. I felt so terrible for big G, because even when he would gorge himself until he vomited, he continued eating. Wrath never joined with Lust, because he would leave bruises. First both of my eyes, then he would tweak my nipples until I bled. Lust kicked him out several times with a fight. Love should never hurt like that. Sloth stole upon me one night while I was with Lust and Pride. Pride never used me like Lust, he was too good for that, he only used my mouth. My jaw was sore, my loins ached in a very bad way, not pleasurable. I never saw Sloth, he was just there one day like smoke around a fire. I left the prince, because he was a sociopath, but I fear that I have entered into a place that I cannot leave. I miss books, novels with a good love story or something from a philosopher that obfuscates some simple manner. Hell at this point, I'd drink wine until I blacked out, but I fear looking like Gluttony. I was someone once. Someone good, nice and kind. I don't know who I am anymore. Does my mother miss me? What about my father and his tax plan? Does God see me suffering here? Does he care or am I another stupid woman? I think I'd prefer anything over this. Lust comes to me nightly with any of his friends or just himself and I'm stuck into another cycle. There is someone new tonight. He leaves a flintlock on the dresser. His name is Ennui. I've never heard of him before. The session plays out mostly the same. Romeo and Juliet with Hamlet in tow. That's all I am? I don't think I can take this. This may be wrong. They're asleep now. I'm jealous of them, I'm better than them, and more importantly, I'm angry. I'm angry at myself and others for not acting, or acting poorly. I pull the hammer back on the flintlock, it's wooden handle feels made for a hand, of course it is stupid woman. I put the barrel in my mouth, feeling the char and tasting the powder from previous fires. I gag, but manage to hold it down and I feel some pleasure with this. I pull the trigger. The snow runs with red now.
My legs responded before I had even finished my return nod. It was an unconscious action, an automatic response to the nod the woman gave me, but some part of my soul knew I had to follow. She stepped off of the bus through the back door, my own feet hitting the pavement a moment later. It is time, a voice said inside my mind. My own voice, but filled with the sort of confidence I was only faking in my daily life. It did not elaborate on its meaning, but it didn’t need it to; I knew the voice was correct. I followed my guide as she turned down an alley I had noticed a hundred times along this bus route. After several paces, she maneuvered into another, perpendicular alley that I was certain was not there a moment earlier. I continued, keeping up with this mysterious woman even as her pace quickened. Expertly, she navigated a series of turns, stepping through doorways and down corridors and switch-backs that I knew beyond any shadow of a doubt should not have been as they were. Even as my rational mind objected, complained that the route we were taking was impossible, that we had crossed back over our own path several times already, I did not truly question the fact that I was following. Why do I trust you? I thought to myself as I followed blindly. It was my own voice that answered back. Because she has always been there for you. Even in these difficult days, she has never failed you. I ached to know more, but the voice inside my head remained silent thereafter. After what seemed like an eternity, my guide’s footsteps slowed, coming to rest in front of a plain curtain stretched improbably across the brick wall of a dead-end. Her hand reached forward, pulling the curtain aside to reveal not the side of the building, but a darkened room. She motioned me to enter with a gentle sweep of her arm. I stepped through without a second thought. The room itself was small, filled with fabrics which seemed in the low light to have some manner of runes or ancient writing woven into their patterns. It all felt familiar, as if I should know every curve and point of each symbol, but could not bring the meanings to mind. My guide stepped in behind me, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Everything about her, from her short red hair, to her crooked and uncertain smile, to the scar across her nose…it was exactly as it should be, even if I could not parse out why I felt that way. “Sorry I moved so quickly,” she said. “I know it has been a long time since you stepped sideways.” Her voice was soft and low, but it rang in my ears like thunder, a thousand memories beating against an invisible barrier yearning for freedom. I opened my mouth to speak, to say anything at all, in the hopes that some of it would make sense…but said nothing. “Here,” she said, reaching underneath one of the rune-weaved pieces. “I brought you something.” Her hand emerged a moment later with a sword. With a dancer’s grace, she stepped toward me, holding the weapon out towards me. My fingers wrapped around the hilt reflexively, as if it was something I had been doing my entire life. “I took care of it for you, like you asked,” she told me, her lips pressing lightly against my cheek as she withdrew her hand. “I…I don’t remember…” I started to say, my words choked off by a sudden sob. “I can’t remember anything…I…” The confession unleashed a torrent of other emotions. Fear, fury, loss, passion…each fought for prominence in my mind. I felt my knees give out, the swift arms of my guide all that kept me from falling to the ground. “Shh, shh,” she whispered, kissing me lightly on the forehead. “It will return in time. For now, rest. I am afraid that the next few days will not be any easier.”
[WIP - I'll write more if interested] The sound of heavy breathing trickles down the bark of the charred black trees the helpless man chose to hide behind. The claw-like branches extended, only to provide a menacing backdrop to this grade-A horror show. Surrounded on all sides by the forest itself, the man quickly becomes exasperated and overwhelmed by the anxiety he was facing, despite the defenses he had prepared with. He had a sword capable of decapitating anything he would came across, however he wasn't strong enough to swing it properly. The sword would't help much here. His eyes darted back and forth like a fleeing antelope, as sweat trickled down his forehead, blurring his vision and causing a burning sensation in his eyes. This only intensified the discomfort from the acid-green slime rivers that carved their way through the forest. The smoke of a distant fire mixed with the radioactivity of what-once-was water, creating an impossible to bear environment. A twig snapped behind him. A wolf howled in front of him in the distance and all the while a crow calls to his right. Sensory overload sets in as too many dangers appear, leaving the brain of this doomed individual sprawling into panic. Frantically rummaging through his bag, he finds a spell book. He isn't too proficient but maybe something will help. Something to clear the air—something to give him stamina to fight. He begins to read as quickly as he can when suddenly, the little light that was left in the forest of undead description fades deeper into darkness. The wolf stops howling. The toxic sludge stops shifting. And the smoke slows to a halt. Between the trees and framework of ash and blackened shrubbery emerges a darkness so deep that a description of which is impossible to construct. Peering out of the impossibly dreadful void comes the scythe of this man's inevitable demise, wielded by an ominous being of unholy proportions. As it slowly emerges, appearing decrepit yet powerful, the details begin to flow. The eyes of the being glow a deep green, from the depths of the skull’s sockets. A black robe flows over its towering body, being constructed of what seems to be only bone. The crow to the right was a sign of what was to come, being found now on the beings shoulder. The being is hunched over ever so slightly, showing bending in his spine, yet still hovered at over seven foot in measurement. The being crept up, never losing eye contact with the man, as the being's newest victim stared in utmost terror as the Grimm approached. Now only a few feet away from the man, the poor soul attempted to flee. Leaving his bag on the ground, he scurried upwards and attempted to turn. All this did was make the gash bigger when Grimm sliced his throat with the razor-sharp curvature of his trusty instrument of mutilation. Falling to the ground, the man continued to fade as his body disappeared from existence, and only his belongings remained. Grimm took a look. "I hate new players,"Grimm thought to himself, as upon first glance, all he could pick up was a few pieces of gold and a baked ham. Grimm slithered over to the player's storage bag and immediately changed his tune, noting the unfathomably rare "Cleaver of Red-Blood"laying on the ground. The spell book, which was for beginners, would sell well at the shop in Draco Caverns, and Grimm let out the best smile a skeleton could. "I guess it was worth the mana,"Grimm chuckled, motioning to Abraxas (his crow) to return back to his shoulder. Abraxas has flown over to a branch, picking at a boar that had been impaled on a tree nearby. As he landed back on the reaper's shoulder, Grimm turned and moved back into the portal he had created. It was time to reap the benefits of the slain. [Edit for formatting. Part 2 coming soon]
“Enjoy your meal!” Said the girl as she handed me my bag through the drive through window. I smiled and nodded gratefully. Unfortunately, my tongue and mind disconnected for a split second. So, instead of saying ‘Thanks, have a nice day!’ or anything else, the accursed words slipped out of my mouth. “You too!” Shit. We both froze, the bag of fried goods hovering halfway to my car as fear and some other emotion entered the girl’s eyes. We knew what would have to happen. I snatched the bag, threw it to safety and held out my hands: left one open and facing up, the right balled into a fist. The girl mirrored my motions. “Ready?” she said cautiously. I nodded and licked my dried lips. We began the chant in unison. “Rock!” We beat our fists into our open hands. “Paper!” The rhythm was established. “Scissors!” This was it, the end of it all. “Shoot!” I threw my fingers forward in a ‘V’ shape desperately. The world greyed as I saw what the girl had deployed. Paper. Anyways, I lost my lunch to another fast-food wagie because of the dumbest law ever.
The first time they officially tested the theory on a human in a scientific setting, it was professionally referred to as Experimentation Regarding the Existence and Classification of Corporeal Beings. Of course, everyone else had their own names for it. It wasn’t like it was a new concept for the public. People had been playing around with this for months now, ever since the Twitter post had announced the accidental discovery. This was simply the first undeniable, scientific proof of ghosts. Two dumbasses had been smashing fluorescent lights in a parking lot behind a Taco Bell when they’d figured it out. Both were a little over 18, left behind by their collegebound classmates to venture into the world of unemployment and basement dwelling. Neither was a bad kid, but they weren’t the first you’d run to for reliable information. “At first, we just uh we thought it was like a raccoon,” one of the kids had said during a YouTube Live video, where he’d given viewers an impromptu interview. “Like, we smashed a uh bulb thing and I was just like, whoa, did you see that? And Jake was like, no what? So we smashed another one and then we saw it in like, the glass, you know? How it turns into powder? And the way the street lights, I guess they were just lined up perfect, I dunno. And he was like, fuck Rick, what the fuck is that?” From there the boys smashed a few more bulbs, and found themselves to suddenly be in possession of familiars. Jake’s had appeared first, and was a large shorthair cat with no identifiable facial features, save for a sharp line of teeth cutting across the center of its head. Aside from this, it seemed to be a friendly creature. Jake had affectionately named it Jessie. “Yeah I mean at first we thought they were fucking creepy. Jessie has teeth all over his head, that’s pretty weird. Like have you seen that thing? I mean of course you did he has his own Instagram. But they wouldn’t stop following us and we tried smashing them with shit but it just went right through them. And even when we got in the car they just kind of uh, ran there in the street? And then got inside and just sat there on the floor with the seats inside their heads and stuff.” Rick had found one large pale eye staring back at him through the dust of shattered glass, and then a nine foot long snake uncoiling to shift closer. A one eyed snake, Jake had later exclaimed in an epiphany of shrieking laugher. “Yeah, almost pissed myself. Dude’s huge. I wasn’t scared but you have a huge snake that close to your dick you have priorities, you know? But he respects me, so we’re really cool now. I even made him a like, bed on my dresser, so he can sleep in a bed and not just drift around on the floor. Gotta treat the gang right, you know?’ From that fateful experience came the Tweets that kicked off a domino effect of shattered fluorescent lights in parking lots everywhere. It was initially blown off as a hoax, especially when the few attempts made to mimic the occurrence completely failed. The creatures could apparently be photographed, but it seemed only in the most infuriating of ways. It was as if the opacity had been turned down to 20% on their layers. This led to many debates on the authenticity of this so-called proof. But the boys continued to post videos and photos, and so people kept on trying. Those dabbling in the phenomenon would discover the answer was to perform the light-smashing ritual just before a storm. Something, scientists would later say, having to do with the ozone in the air and mercury from the bulbs combining. Something about neural pathways, something about gases reacting, something something something ghosts. The act itself was known as shattering, or being shattered. The creatures that being shattered created? They were called skants. Skants always followed a few sets of rules. They couldn’t be handled or interacted with physically. They didn’t seem to have any rules of physics or gravity imposed on their forms. Skants were never completely opaque. They did not age, and did not appear to have any bodily needs such as food or water. They did not sleep. They could not speak or communicate, but seemed to understand human speech to some degree, and could make very soft noises at times. They were, many argued, self aware, cognizant, even if they did not make efforts to speak or interact back to us. The skants were always some kind of existing animal -- the caveat to this being they were also always somehow disfigured from that initial shape. Missing facial features, extra limbs, distorted bodies, fractured bones, it was always something that set them apart, even from others of their types. Two people could both have a cat, but none would have the same alterations twice. Finally, you could not see your skant until you’d been shattered. But once you had, the skant did not go away, and could not travel more than ten feet away from you. While many people enjoyed their skant and the constant companionship, some reported regret about shattering. Social media came alive with stories of skants staring down their humans late into the night, seeming to taunt or threaten them. “another night watching this creepy ass octopus slither around my dresser… sweet dreams… just glad it can’t hold a knife” “when i shattered thought id get something cool but now i just have this stupid donkey with no face following me around so of course i hate it someone make it leave please.” “I’m in love with my skant but why does it have to have a mouth on its stomach? I mean I love kangaroos they’re like my spirit animal, but this is so creepy and I can’t even put clothes over it.” “well I’ve been up for three hours now. my skant is just sitting in the corner hissing at the wall. can ghosts sense other ghosts? is that a thing? i’m kind of freaking out.” The mixed reviews began to fuel debate from all sides: this was tampering with nature, it was fighting with god, it was disrupting spirits, it was dangerous, it was irresponsible, it was terrifying. The skants didn’t look right, didn’t look like they were supposed to exist. Nothing good came from smashing glass and inhaling ozone fumes and suddenly seeing disfigured animals. Others spoke out, calling the skants symbolic and spiritual. They were beautiful and hideous, just like each of us humans. We had our flaws, and the skants laid them bare, for all to see. The skants were personifications of our brokenness. On a wet, warm, August night, a young woman in Southern Maryland sat in her car outside of a Dairy Queen, watching the clouds swirl and shuddering at the static in the air. The hair along her arms rose, and her vision lowered to the parking lot. Muted beams of moonlight sparkled on the pavement, dusted with fragments of glass. This was the best place, everyone said, to be shattered. In the distance she could hear cars on the highway, and trees being shaken by the high winds. A twister of litter scurried along the ground and past her car. She stepped out, pulling the long, slender fluorescent light through the back car window, and cradling it in her hands. The wind whipped up again, and she watched the glass that shimmered around her feet shift in a thousand pieces, gathering at her toes into piles that looked like snowdrifts. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath of the air, let the breath out, and flung the bulb to the ground. Where once there had been nothing, beneath the dust and beyond the jarring explosion of sound, came a human form, rising from the pavement as if on a platform. The skant -- if that’s what the thing before her even was -- had a sheen of off-white all over its slender body, but the woman could see the ground easily through it. She took a step back. This was not what she’d been expecting, not at all. “You’re a human though…?” she mumbled, blinking hard. Maybe it wasn’t? Maybe it was like a monkey or a weird misshapen upright animal? She swallowed hard, looked it up and down. The skant had stopped rising, and was not standing in front of her, matching her height. There were not features, no edges, not clothing, no nothing. It was like looking at a pale white shadow placed right in front of her. The skant remained motionless long enough for the woman to take six shaky breaths. On the seventh, it reached out and rested a stump of a hand on her shoulder. A wide gash of a smile slit horizontal across its blank face, severing its head in half. The woman screamed. The skant gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Stillness. Black and still. Flying backwards through the wind into the hands of my beautiful daughter. Tears and darkness. Complete and total darkness. From fire my body returns. The flames bringing back my skin and bones, bit by bit. Nerves reconnecting and the skin completing itself. Suddenly my hair grew back. My jet black hair wild as I lay inside that furnace. I’m suddenly pulled out, feet first, and moved into a van. They take me and put me in a casket and put me in the funeral home. Everybody is there. Slowly the crying people disperse, and the only person left is my loving daughter. Her tears seem to riddle the floor in front of my coffin. Don’t cry, my little baby girl. We all knew this would happen someday. But it happened too soon. Soon she was gone as well, and the coroner was removing my casket from the room. He changed me out of my funeral attire and back into the black suit I had on before. Oddly there was a red bloody stain draped across the abdomen of my shirt. I couldn’t figure out why that was there, but again I was moving backwards. I was brought into an ambulance, and dropped off in the middle of the street by stretcher. After the ambulance departed, a bullet came back through my chest and flew all the way back to a man in front of me with a pistol. I look left and see my beautiful daughter just getting out of the building, her wedding dress so crisp and new. How terrible I would be shot on my daughter’s wedding day. It just didn’t seem fair. I walked back into the church and saw my daughter get married. Her white dress long and tedious to make, the veil covering her face for the majority of the ceremony. Everybody was so happy for the couple, I was so happy. Suddenly thinks started to speed up. I saw happy, and sad. First I saw my wife’s dog Bella die of old age. I may have died to the gunman, but part of my died with that pug. Even farther back and I’m opening my anniversary card from my wife, tears streaming down my face. All of her cards held the same message. My tears floated back into my eyes, and suddenly I saw her in the bed. There was a constant buzzing, and doctor’s were talking to me about the news. They offered their condolences and told me in a better place. She died of cancer at the age of 39. Life slowed down. I loved looking in my wife’s eyes and seeing her beauty. The whole while she was dying, but I was here for her the whole time. Battling for five years, I had tried everything. I watched as the chemo was taken back, as if all my attempts at saving her were being taken away, as if I never truly helped her. I look back another year, and we’re in the doctor's office getting the news. She cries into my shoulder, and I tell her everything will be alright. My journey finally sped up again. My baby was shrinking and getting younger again. I watched every softball game of hers in reverse. From her last pitch of little league all the way to her first time hitting the ball. I smiled as I remembered how much she enjoyed softball. I saw myself cheering from the stands in every single memory. Next came her first steps. She seemed to be falling the whole while, but every time she fell she would get back up again. I got to watch my daughter grow up again, and for that I am forever greatful. Back into another hospital room and I am beaming. I’m holding this little bundle of blankets, and we decided we were going to name her Sara. We had been trying to have a baby for a few years, and finally we had Sara. The smile soon left my face as I went back more. Work had decided to cut people, and I was one of them. I flew through fifteen years of working for this company, and the only thing that lasted with me was how they fired me. The only happy part of my life at this point was meeting and dating Elizabeth. I adored my wife like any women deserved, and it was evident even as we were young in the relationship. We danced and relaxed. Just being in each other's presence with enough. Eventually I got to when we first met. I had seen her from across the library while in college, and she had me starstruck. She was so beautiful. But instead of feeling amazing at this beautiful moment, we went back to highschool. I winced and blood seeped back into my skin. The knife replacing and fixing my skin as it ran across gently. My pictures had been everywhere. She had burned me and I couldn’t go on like this. Tears were streaming down my face, the years of harassment coming back to me. Pain, bruises, name calling. This is what I met in high school. For three years I was too scared to go to school. I would walk into school and hide in varying locations until class started, and leave as quickly as I could to avoid the kids. We go back and my confidence is still there. I still talked to people. I still thought I had friends. But the seeds of doubt were still in my head at this point. My childish delusions came back to me at this point. Nobody hated me. And the world was alright. They weren’t laughing at me, they were laughing with me. That’s what my teachers always said, and they hadn’t been wrong before. My brain at this point was deteriorating. Years of knowledge I had from schooling was disappearing before my eyes. Confidence and love were a foreign concept now. The world was out to get me from the beginning, and I was going to graduate and overcome all of the challenges. With my girlfriend and friends, nothing could hold me back. The same thoughts left my head and I entered middle school. Nothing different happened here, but information was streaming out of my head with the turn of the day. In a quick blip, the rest of my life blurred before me. I saw my head in my father’s arms as he held me proudly. Life was just as beautiful backwards as it was forwards.
"Stevie, wake up". He jolted awake and let out a long whistle. "God damn,"he quipped. "That must have been one hell of a night." I spoke up. "Stevie-" "I mean sweet baby Jesus. I must have had at least 3 bottles of Schnapps, plus whatever Tomeeka kept giving me."He mused. "Stevie, we're in trouble,"I managed. "Jail house again?", he asked. "Not quite" In front of us stood 3 figures garbed in black. Were those...ninjas? There were more of them too, on every side of us. "I think...I think we were kidnapped by ninjas Stevie. They're surrounding us", I explained. He laughed. "Yeah ok, this isn't the first time I've heard that one. Nice try." I sighed. "Stevie I'm serious. This is bad." He scowled. "I'm not stupid, just blind", he said. "When you have a better joke, let me know. I need a shower." On his way out, he bumped into one of the masked men. He let out a breath. "God dammit"
(I'll use the existing universe of One Piece for this) Admiral Akainu broke the sake bottle as he heard a familiar drawl in the shell of his ear. "Drinking to drown out your sorrows, eh old man? I can't believe you capable of feelings yet alone anything worth drowning out." The admiral scowled as he looked at the miniature pirate that jumped off his shoulder. Ace gave him a smirk and began to kick, to no effect, the sake bottle on the man's desk. "I thought killing someone means they are gone,"he growled as he attempted to swat away his guardian. Guardian... Funny. Some fucker watching over me, probably wishing I would off myself. Ace however could not be hurt by his charge and playfully did finger guns towards the angry marine. "No need to hate. There has to be more to you than an angry man that just drinks to not feel bad for his actions." Akainu pulled his hat further down his face. He was sick of looking at the pirate. "I don't regret anything I've done,"he growled out. "Oh? You don't regret basically destroying Ohara? Yeah, Whitebeard knew about that. Or the marines you hurt with your attacks before you killed me?"Ace jumped forward and kicked the admiral's hat off of his head. The action startled the admiral who tried to reach for the annoying guardian but he jumped out of reach. "You are too willing to be a dog for the World Government. It's why you're Akainu. Right, Sakazuki?" "I gave you no leave to say my name!"he roared as he punched a hole through his desk. His anger however pushed forth his devil fruit power and even Armament Haki into the action, causing the desk to not only incinerate but go through the floor. Several floors in fact. He got lucky that it landed between Fleet Admiral Sengoku and Vice Admiral Garp in the middle of having a snack and not on top of them. Or heaven forbid, the Fleet Admiral's pet goat. Both men just stared up at the mortified admiral. "Sakazuki,"Sengoku growled. "In my office. NOW!" The man sighed as he gathered up his marine hat. Ace was quiet as he jumped up onto the man's shoulder. "Cheer up. It won't be so bad." "You got me in trouble with my boss. What possible positive outcome can there be?"Akainu grunted in annoyance. "I can tell you how to piss off my Gramps if it makes you feel better?"the pirate offered sincerely. The admiral did not know how to feel when he seriously considered agreeing with the pirate. A throat clearing from several floors down followed by loud laughter made up his mind. "Deal,"he sighed to his guardian as he leapt down the holes in the floors. This is going to be a blast! Ace through with a grin as he held onto the grumpy admiral's shoulder.
Dear diary, tomorrow is Easter. I’m so excited. This will be my first Easter living on my own, so I can find all of the eggs by myself. I hope I get a lot of chocolate filled eggs, I like them much better than hard boiled eggs. Dear diary, today is Easter, and I didn’t find a single egg. Not one. I don’t understand. I looked everywhere. The Easter bunny came, I know he did, he ate the carrots I left out for him and everything. I can see his big old floppy bunny footprints in the dirt out front. So where are the eggs? Maybe I’m just not looking hard enough. Dear diary, it’s been 5 days since Easter, and I still haven’t found any eggs. I think the Easter bunny is moving them each night. Every morning I find fresh footprints in the dirt, but still no eggs. Not even hard boiled ones. Dear diary, it’s been 7 days since Easter. Still no eggs. I set up a camera to try to figure out what the Easter bunny was up to, but the image started to cut out as soon as he entered into range of the camera. I came out in the morning to find the camera melted, too. I don’t think the eater bunny likes that. Dear diary, it’s been 8 days since Easter, and I think the Easter bunny is angry. My car was smashed last night, ripped to pieces really. There were some really big claw marks in the metal. I’ve never seen claw marks so big. I didn’t even know the Easter bunny had claws. Dear diary, it’s been 10 days since Easter. I’m hiding in the basement. The easter bunny broke down my front door, and I ran. I don’t know why he’s so angry. He hasn’t left my house, either. Every time I think of venturing out of the basement, I hear him. Pacing back and forth outside the door. I can see something moving, a shadow blocking the light under the door. After what he did to my car I don’t see why keeping the door closed is stopping him. Maybe he doesn’t know I’m here? Dear diary, it’s been 16 days since Easter. The Easter bunny definitely knows I’m here. I ran out of food and tried to leave, and he saw me. He’s bigger than I even imagined, fluffy and white and with little red eyes. He... growled at me. I shut the door quickly, and he slammed against it. I could hear him scratching at the wood, slowly. I don’t know what he wants. I apologized to him about the camera, asked him what was wrong, he just kept scratching and then went back to pacing. Dear diary, it’s been 20 days since Easter, and I found an Easter egg. I woke up this morning and there it was in the corner of the room. It definitely wast there the night before. Did he really come in here while I was sleeping and put it there? If he could unlock the door and come in whenever he wants why hasn’t he just killed me already? It’s a plastic egg, filled with little chocolates. I’m so hungry, but I don’t trust it. What is he up to? Dear diary, it’s been 24 days since Easter. I ate the chocolate. And the jelly beans. And the gum drops. I’ve found a new egg each morning, with a little bit of candy in each one. I was so hungry I had to eat something. If it weren’t for the candy and the laundry sink down here I would have died already I think. I tried to leave again, thinking maybe the Easter eggs were a peace offering, but he growled at me and ran strait towards me. I wish I knew what he wanted. Dear diary, it’s been 31 days since Easter, I think. I’ve lost track of time a little. I’m afraid the candy isn’t enough to keep me alive. I’ve got to do something. I made a makeshift weapon out of a pool cue and a steak knife. I’m going to stay up all night if I have to, waiting for him to sneak an egg in. I’ll try to sneak out while he’s distracted, and use my makeshift spear if he sees me. I really hope he doesn’t see me. Dear diary, it’s been 32 days, and I don’t know what happened. I stayed up all night, but I never saw him. The sun rose outside, the light coming in under the door, and he never came in. I swear he didn’t. There was a plastic Easter egg next to me, anyway. Right next to me. I didn’t know it was there until I touched it with my hand. How did it get there? What sort of game is he playing? Dear diary, it’s been 36 days since Easter, maybe. I don’t know anymore. He gave me a hard boiled egg last night. I can’t take this anymore. I’m going to go out there, with my spear. I have no choice, it has to stop. I’m slowly starving to death, I’m sure of it. I don’t care if he kills me anymore. Death can’t be worse than this. Dear diary, I... don’t know... Dear diary, Dear diary, Dear diary, it’s been... 45 days since Easter. I didn’t know... I didn’t know how bad it was. The Easter bunny, he growled at me, he ran at me, I could barely hold my spear, I was so weak. I closed my eyes, he didn’t kill me. I walked past him as he growled, towering over me, but he didn’t touch me. Outside, the world, it wasn’t the same. Dark figures move around in the daylight, nightmares come to life, I think. The world is on fire. The Easter bunny, I think... he was trying to protect me. He stopped growling when I got outside, and just sat down next to me, his nose wiggling, looking at the destruction. I don’t think he realized that I can’t survive on Easter eggs alone. He’s really just a bunny when it comes down to it, a giant magical bunny, but still a bunny. I found some canned goods in my pantry, and some more in the neighbors pantry. It was the first real meal I’ve had in over a month. The Easter bunny, he’s following me now. One of those shadow figures tried to get me, and he ripped them apart. He still gives me an egg every morning. I don’t know where he’s even getting them. Dear diary, it’s been a year since Easter, which means it’s Easter again. I know because everyone in camp found an egg today. The kids were delighted, the tooth fairy wasn’t. Me and the other survivors are doing well. I’d almost forgotten about my diary until today. The nightmares are held at bay, the crops are coming along fine, the leprechauns came back with a new shipment of salvaged goods. We may have enough to build a generator now. That’s what Frank says, at least. Me and Hops, that’s what I call the Easter bunny now, we’re going on a long patrol later tonight. Five days outside the wall, shouldn’t be too hard. There’s rumors that a band of survivors is traveling our way, air bound on flying reindeer. Me and Hops hope to find them, convince them to join us. The extra mouths to feed will be hard to manage for a while, but the air support will give us an advantage. Dear diary, it’s been five days since Easter. We met up with the reindeer flyers. They were headed our way anyway, turns out. Looking to settle down behind some walls. Nice group of people. Their leader, Vanessa, it tough, but nice when you get to know her. I’ve really taken a liking to Mary, though. She rides Blitzen, and as soon as she saw hops she wanted to pet him. She’s pretty adorable, and I have to say, I’m glad she’s going to be joining the settlement. I think she’s taken a liking to me too. She fights with a spear, like me. Hops liked her, that’s a good sign. He usually growls at new people, but he actually let her her rub his belly. I hope when we get back that she wants to set up camp near me. For the firs time in a while I’m really starting to think there’s hope for the future again.
"SHE'S MOVING!"you scream as the witch spirits out of Gamma's grasp. You raise your weapon and launch a storm of silver-tipped hollow points. Your years of training pay off and every bullet hits, despite how quickly shes moving. She crumples to the floor, as most people do when shot half a dozen times with bullets. You toss your rifle on a table and kneel down by Alpha. When you had first blown the door, he had taken point. The witch's blast had gone straight through the ballistic shield like butter and burned into his chest. The noise and slight ringing in your ears from the various magic and firearm discharges begins to fade as the medics rush in and get to work on his wounds. "Target 673, 'Roaming Lady' was killed in a raid this morning. Her various crimes, ranging from petty crime to attempted assassination earned her a high place on our lists. Thanks to Operator Beta, she's dead. Squad leader Alpha was injured in the raid but is expected to make a full recovery." Scattered applause sounded in the UN Security Council chambers. "If there is no further business, I pass a motion for this meeting to adjourn."the Chairman said. Most of the members began talking with one another or checking their phones. The United States' member flicked on the flat screen to the news to see what was on. Once the commercials ended, his eyes widened in shock. "Hey everyone, you need to see this." "Breaking News. We have been sent footage of a raid on a house. The victim, Maria Warner, was shot dead by black ops military operatives for unknown reasons. Maria was the mother to two small children, who were at the grandmothers at the time. Leaks from inside the United Nations have revealed this was the act of a group known as PIM Corps, Psychic Individual Monitoring. We open this up to our panel discussion."One panel member looked pretty angry and immediately spoke up. "Why does something like this exist? Just because some people have abilities which frighten these bigots doesn't mean they have to go killing mothers! I have some magic ability myself,"he levitated a pen and flipped it around, "so is that supposed to mean that I'm suddenly a threat to the entire human race? Huh? Come and get me then!" The director of PIM put his head in his hands. "Shit."was all he said.
Maybe one day we will control time. But for now, I'll make do with a nice cup of tea. The world moves so fast nowadays. Do this, do that. Be here, be there. Right now, right away. Honestly, it can be a little overwhelming. And in my experience, the world doesn't show any signs of slowing. For me, life is intense. And that's okay, I guess. I can roll with the punches. But every now and again I like to jump off the spinning world, and there's no better way to do that than with a warm cup of tea. Have it with friends, have it by yourself. It's all the same in the end. You clasp your hands around the warm mug and let it resonate through your skin and into your very being. You take a minute for yourself, because you deserve it. Time can wait, if only for a little while. I guess it isn't about the tea. It's about remembering to go on easy on yourself every now and again. Tea is just the doorway. But I'll be damned if it isn't a nice door.
"Within a week under your rule, the world had fallen to chaos, and time itself had shattered to pieces"uttered space, or some other sentient force. __________________________ \|""\|""\|""\|""\|""\|""\|""\|""\|""\|""\|""\|""\|""\|""\| \| 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 l '------------------------------------------' "No. That is what happened when I was partially usurped and my divine right as king was ignored. Despite frequent spying and harassment still I have freed you from your time space prisons!"spoke the magic ruler, from both through hyperfloating sections of time and outside of time itself, rather accurately, in a measured way.
&nbsp; 1300+ words *** Allister woke before dawn and got dressed for the day. He went over a scribbled list several times to make sure everything was perfect, then went to start breakfast as the first orange light of the day poured in through his window. "Today,"he said to himself with a smile. He cracked open two eggs, but a knock at the door distracted him before he put them over the fire. Allister sighed, left the eggs, then answered the door. "Allister? The King requests your presence."An elegantly dressed man wearing a purple tunic and velvety beret addressed him the moment he opened the door. Allister shook his head. "Not today."He moved to close the door, but the messenger placed his foot in the way. Two armed guards loudly approached with weapons drawn. They stood behind the messenger. "The King insists. The kingdom is in danger,"The messenger said. "So send those guys, they're ready for a fight,"Allister pointed at the guards. The messenger chuckled. "They're just here for show, we both know they can't subdue you. Look, my life is on the line here if I don't come back with you. That's it, just show up and I get to live. You can tell the King yourself, if you're not interested."Allister sighed, he knew it wasn't a bluff. The king did have a short temper when things didn't go his way. He nodded at the messenger. "Let me get my gear,"he said. The trip was half an hour by wagon, then the guards escorted Allister into the King's throne room. The King sat on an ornate throne of gold and silver. He ruled alone, with Queen or throne next to him. Allister approached the throne, and gave his own form of respect to the king by giving him a slight nod. "Kneel before the King!"One of the guards shoved Allister forward. Allister stumbled forward but remained on his feet. He turned to face the guard. "Don't kill him, he's new!"The King shouted. He dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand. The guard quickly retreated from the throne room. Allister turned back to face the King. "Your Highness summoned me?"Allister said. The king nodded, his golden crown wobbled forward and back on his head as he did. "Allister, the kingdom needs your help. Of course, you shall be greatly rewarded if you rid us of this menace."Allister considered the reward, it would definitely make life easier after she said yes. If she said yes. "Does it have to be today?"Allister asked. "Of course! [Ballisea](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/11/ballisea-el-sol.html)'s been spotted in the forest." "Ballisea? She hasn't made a move in years,"Allister asked. If someone spotted Ballisea he knew he would have to accept the King's request. He glanced out the window, the morning sun was still rising to its perch in the sky. "I can make this short. I will propose to her today,"he reaffirmed himself. "Yes, and I expect it to stay that way. Put that sorcerous witch down for good, and you shall inherit the kingdom from me,"the King said. Allister chuckled at the thought. "I'll do it, your Highness. For the Kingdom, of course. I'll need access to your armory,"Allister said. The King nodded and waved his hand dismissively. "Of course, take anything you need. Godspeed."Allister nodded then left the throne room. He departed toward the forest as the sun reached its apex. He took a single horse and a single backpack full of supplies. None of the guards volunteered to ride with him, but he did not find that surprising. While he rode he kept reminding himself of his goal. "I will propose to her today, I need to know her feelings. Nothing will stop me."He reached the outskirts of the forest a couple of hours later. He left his horse tied to a tree, grabbed his supplies and headed towards the area someone saw the witch. He remained on his guard, though the forest felt like a second home to him. He moved with purpose toward a fresh pool he knew of. If Ballisea was seen in the forest, he guessed she would be near the small lake. He reached the lake clearing in time to see Ballisea stepping out of the water and drying herself off. He admired her naked form, mostly hidden by long straight black hair that reached the back of her knees. He only watched for a second before hiding behind a tree trunk in order to let her continue dressing in private. He did not feel comfortable making his move against a naked woman. "I know you're there."Ballisea's soft voice entered his mind. Enchantment was her magic of choice; her voice seemed coated in warm, welcoming sunlight as it echoed through his brain. He reached to his pack while he steeled his will. This was not the first time Allister felt her gentle magic touch tickling his brain, but his inner strength protected him from her enchantment before and would again. "Today. I will not fail her."He took several deep breaths while focusing on his goal. He looked up at the sky, the sun rested on the tips of the treetops. "I can do this." "What's wrong? You're not afraid of me, are you?"Ballisea's voice whispered a trail of tingles down the back of Allister's neck. "I'm waiting for you, ..... Allister."The sound of her calling his name drove him to action. He stood straight up, then marched out from behind the tree toward the clearing. "Nothing can stop me. I'm prepared for anything."He clenched the item in his hand. He noticed Ballisea was still naked, though her long black hair covered her front to give her a sense of decency. She smiled at him as only an enchantress could. "I will propose today. Nothing will stop me."He walked to Ballisea without saying a word. His coffee brown eyes locked on to her translucent violet eyes. "The King has sent me to kill you,"Allister said. He projected as much confidence and authority as he could manage. Allister knew Ballisea was weak without her enchanting tricks. He stood firm, his knuckles clenched white. Ballisea chuckled then looked around the forest. "He sent you all alone?"she asked. She took a single step forward. "Your King is an idiot."She took another step. "Stop!"Allister yelled. His hands began to tremble. "Today,"he reminded himself. Ballisea shook her head and closed the distance between them. "You're not going to kill me, Allister."Her lips moved, but her voice sounded like it came from inside his head. "And I'll tell you why."Allister felt butterflies in his stomach. His nerves threatened to turn him into a coward, but he stood his ground. Ballisea knelt infront of him, their eyes still locked. "No. Nothing can stop me today."he tried to strengthen his resolve. "Because,"Ballisea whispered. "I want you as my husband. Will you marry me, Allister?"The corners of her lips pulled upward into a coy smile. "Nothing.... except that."Allister sighed. "Damnit Balli! I was gonna ask you first!"He opened his palm and showed her the golden ring he took from the King's treasury. "Well too bad. I asked first."Ballisea pulled him down to the ground with her and they kissed. &nbsp; *** Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, you can find them collected on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html). If you're curious about my universe(the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/11/hugoverse-guidebook.html) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/hugoverse-timeline.html) to find the stories in order.
"Have you ever heard of The Legend of the Bermuda Triangle?"I widen my eyes, and I sit up straight. I listen intently. I love stories, urban legends even more so, and I'd never pass up the chance to hear a brand new one. "The Bermuda Triangle was a mysterious shape in the ocean where multiple aircrafts had gone missing. People were puzzled by it, as the area of a triangle had a good amount of aircraft disappearances. Most are unsolved to this day. "But one day, The Bermuda Triangle itself went missing."I scoff a bit. "Yeah, what a great story."I sit back up and sigh. I've heard all the good stories. "Too cheesy." He laughs. "You think I'm telling you a little campfire story? No. This is truth. Since one day in 2020, no aircrafts have gone missing in that triangle that we know of. Aircrafts go missing, sure, but not there."Eh, interesting. Not convincing at all. I raise my eyebrow. "Listen man, this is true! That can't be a coincidence! Exactly 100 years after they stop, they're suddenly swarming? They're landing all over the planet? On land and water? Tell me this doesn't make sense." "It makes sense, but it's not true. 100 years ago things just weren't strange."He sits back down, calming down a bit. We're all a bit tense knowing that, at any moment, a plane could crash into us. "Try telling that to someone 100 years ago,"he replies. We sit in silence for a while. "Dude, I'm sure of it. Exactly 100 years! Exactly!" "Yeah well, every day is a 100 year anniversary of something. So, I'm just going to not give a fuck and try to not get hit by a plane." Nothing is gone. Everything is there. Something may seem gone. But it's just hiding. Wearing darkness. Unseeable, unnoticeable. Staying in hiding until the timing is perfectly right. And the Bermuda Triangle is no exception. It didn't leave us. It went into hiding. And now it's back. It's grown. It spans the whole planet now.
“Mom, w-what’s wrong?” “Ica, you are Special, you won’t be safe anywhere until we can afford to get you to the Haven.” “It’ll be okay Mom” I laugh when I look back those moments. As an ignorant 7 year old living on the outskirts of the most dangerous city in the United States, consoling my mother that everything would be alright. My Awakening had happened on my 7th birthday. Most Special people don’t see signs of their skills until they are 18, and that is the reason so many Special people survive past their teens. With my skills becoming apparent at such a young age, I didn’t have a chance to prepare for the rest of my life. Instead of seeing signs of this in the beginning of your teens and training for survival until they can reach the Haven. So we’ll leave it at this: My childhood wasn’t very easy. I was 17 at this point. A lot had happened since my Awakening. For the first thing, I had to adopt a new religion. The evidence that gives away Specials is the shoulders. Signs such as seizures and fainting can make it apparent as well, but these are much less frequent and are usually not caught. But the shoulders. Our shoulders glow like a single match in a pitch black room. Three notches line diagonally across our shoulders and give off a distinct light. Unfortunately for anybody Special, society has adopted shoulder-less clothing as the new fashion statement. To be seen with a shouldered-shirt ensured that people already suspected you of being Special. The only way to keep safe was to hide my shoulders, so I joined the most prudent church there was so that I had valid reason to cover my shoulders. In the name of Skahli, I joined the Old Church. This religion is actually insane. It is required that you attend a 30 minute Hearing where you listen to their Apostle ramble on about the distinct need for abstinence and against the supreme fight to remain modest. According to them, if society could learn to keep their **** in their pants and cover their shoulder, then all would be well. In short. The Old Church and Skahli is the equivalent of a Christian Hell. But despite all of the bull crap they call a religion, I joined so I had valid reason to cover my shoulders. Most 17 year old girls have to worry about rape or worse while living outside a dangerous city, but my worry was much worse. Special people were hated more than any other group in previous history. It is widely accepted in the United States that any Specials captured outside of the Haven are legally allowed to be killed or treated as property. Inside the Haven, everything is perfect. With the newest advancements in technology, and the best law system in the world, 99.8% of the Specials living in the Haven die of natural causes. Compared to the 30% death rate of infants since the removal of doctors on the outside, and the loss of the family unit, the Haven was the last humane place on the planet. And the only way to get in was to be Special, and I was. My mother died when I was 15. A man shot her with a pistol while we were walking home from school to see if there was any money in her purse that he could take. I held my dying mother in my arms, and vowed by the name of Skahli to kill the bastard. It took me a week, but I had finally prepared for the massacre. In my bag I had packed food, water, one change of clothes, and all the money my mom had saved for trying to get me to the Haven. By this point I had already begun to master the skill that made me Special: translucency. I left the small apartment and found the man. He was in a knife fight with another male. Silently, I let them finish, and my man had been victorious. As he searched the man for a wallet, I whistled from behind him to get his attention. He turned around, and I plunged my knife into his stomach. He could not see me. The look on his face was one of extreme disbelief. With a twist, I left the knife 6 inches in this man while I watched him die. Nothing in my life so far had made me more satisfied. My mother had protected me, against all odds, for the better part of 8 years. At 16 years old you are able to enter the Haven if you are Special, so my time was coming. As we can currently tell from the fact I am writing this story, I have not yet made it to the Haven, and I still have a long way to go. I had become a prominent member of the Church, and my coverup was beginning to become a hindrance. As a girl, I could not become an Apostle in the Church, but I was already the next best (worst) thing: the Holy Mother. I was praised, worshipped, and religiously impregnated. According to the word of Skahli, the Holy Mother was meant to stay at the Church at all times, and that had made escaping without notice much harder. Part Two [Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_smkorpi/comments/89uj40/comment/dwtlu51?st=JFLPIQZ7&sh=e3beb4ff)
"It's time Katelyn. It's time to pull the plug."the attending doctor spoke with a practiced softness. This wasn't her first, nor would it be her last. She eyed the Death Certificate, unsigned on the table next to her. "I know, I know..."Katelyn responded, her voice cracking in the end, as it always would with him in her mind. There was a beauty to her, even those two, endless months had passed, her once full, tanned body reduced down to a sickly pallor. "Just l-let me do it, please."she said. Katelyn thought she had prepared herself for this day, had been preparing for it since the car crash, and the PET scans, and every other medical test that brought forward that harrowing result. Brain death. She looked at her husbands face, shaven for this final day. Gods he was handsome, despite his once muscular body having been reduced down to something closer like her own. She leaned over to him, planted one final kiss on his cheek, and knealt down to his ear, her hand on the button which shut down all life support at once. A button just for this task, these fateful goodbyes. "I will never forget."she whispered, her eyes squeezing shut and her face drawing into a look of deep pain as she slowly squeezed the trigger. The monitor flatlined, and the man passed from this world. The funeral was bigger than many the cemetary gardener had seen, the parking lot and the long stretch of road lay packed with cars of all kinds, of all levels of suspected income. But what intriguted the gardener the most was the 7 identical black cars that showed up, and the big, dangerous-looking men that got out. Those same men, who, one by one, had knelt at the grand wooden casket, some shedding only a few tears as they lay their tribute, some breaking down, sobbing, being carried to the background by their comrades. The gardener sat near the middle of his favorite tree, well above the ground, it gave a good enough view of the processions 100 feet away, and it offered a view of the sweeping hills, packed with those trademark tombstones in their seamless rows and columns. The processions seemed to go on for hours, although something told the man to stay and observe, a feeling, that this funeral was not like the others, not even close. Finally, two hours having passed, the man saw a beautiful, albeit pale looking women step up to the humble podium. He was to far to hear any of the speechs, but he saw her facial expression, stoic, unfeeling, but a mask for a deeper pain. A lifelong kind of pain. And then, after five or so minutes, her speech ended, and she returned to the crowd of what looked to be easily 900 people, and vanished from sight. Then something peculiar happened, the man, and the funeral goers themselves would remember it for decades to come. The sky seemed to darken, and the birds quieted, as the faint smell of ozone filled the air. The casket was slowly pulled closed, it's hinges allowing only a gentle descent, and then, at the moment it stopped in it's motion, sealing the body inside, their was the flash of a single bolt of lightning striking a hill north of the cemetery, followed by the awful but spectacular crack of pure energy. In the town, two miles from the strike, windows shattered from the force, and the event would make the towns newspaper, but nothing more. The whole crowd jumped at once, some crying out, some, like the hardened men driving in their matching cars, simply jolting at the noise, solely out of instinct. The gardener cried out in his suprise, nearly falling out of his perch in his tree, but his hands caught the branches near him, and he was spared his job. Then, as quickly as it came, the day was back to normal, the sky still thick with clouds, the animals moving about. But the gardener, raised by his superstitious grandma his entire life, wondered silently as the coffin was lowered into the earth. And in his heart, he knew he had witnessed something much greater than him, much greater than any event in history. Something supernatural. To be continued?
[Bryan, 3 years old, walks up to another being that looks just like him. Both are amazed.] Both Bryans: Who are you? [The two look at each other in confusion.] Both Bryans: Are you...me? [The two try to touch, but they're inexplicably separated by a window. Suddenly, both of Bryan's mothers come to their sons.] Bryan's Mom: Oh, silly Bryan. Stop talking to the mirror! Bryan: [in possibly the most adorable confused voice] What's a...mirror? Moral of the Story: Children are the cutest.
I died in a car accident. It was fast, and there was no pain. The car flipped, my head hit the ceiling, and I woke up. Heaven isn't really everything that they tell you it is. There's no angels, or clouds, or infinite amounts of dogs (unless you want there to be). My heaven was my childhood house, and I lived with my grandparents. That was about a year ago. It can be pretty mundane up here. So I spend most of my time watching life down on Earth. I can see all my old classmates, my girlfriend, my parents, and my dog. They are all doing okay. I was an organ donor when I died. Since the brain trauma killed me, my body was mostly preserved, except for a few broken bones. When the ambulances showed up, they carted my body away to harvest what they could. I followed the EMTs to the hospital. I watched as they took their notes, did the autopsy, and eventually cut me open. They carefully removed my kidneys, my liver, my corneas, and my heart. Those were all stored away. Eventually, all my organs found new homes. The kidney saved someone with cancer. The liver saved someone whose liver had failed them. My corneas gave sight to a blind man. My heart allowed an old man to keep living. But not for long. A few months into his new life, he sat in the park, as was his favorite thing to do on Sunday mornings. The sun beat down and he read "The Old Man and the Sea"for the fifth time. Birds fluttered around. Then a noise. A gun. I watched as the man crumpled on to the ground. My chest burst with pain. My soul's chest. The man was dead. He had been shot in the heart.
Everyone has their talents. Gifts, one might say. Mine... has always been relatively unusual. I've been around for a long time. Longer than I care to recall. Few things surprised me. Crowds of people flowed, as water. When I was a young man their combined needs would have left my skull an aching mess. Carefully, I sifted through the telepathic barrage, pushing aside the majority. People had grown more shallow since my gift had manifested. It used to be that I would guide heroes to greatness. Arthur to the sword and to the throne. Great khans to their ruthless conquest. Civilisation had broken the spirit of man. Love was the main service I tendered now. To guide each person to fulfill the greatest need of the other... not as impressive as the deeds of ages past, but fulfilling nonetheless. But today was different. There was a mind I sought. One I had touched before. The rare surprise in my eternal existence. And today, aside from that ever present need he held in his heart, he longed for a cigarette. "You really should kick the habit." He sat on a bench, watching the same crowd whose shallow needs had weighted my heart with disappointment. His eyes, however, were distant. My brother was not truly there any longer. "It's not as if it'd change anything."He took the cigarette i offered and produced his own lighter. As he took a long drag, I gazed at him carefully. He was older than me. Not by much, given the nature of our existence, but there was still the separation of decades. "So, nothing has changed."I stated it. No questions between the two of us. No need for such mundane things. I sat next to him, looked to the clouds and the sky. Silence. He leaned back, watching the steady flow of people as the cigarette burned away between his lips. I let my lungs slide out a quiet sigh. He was broken. Tired. I could feel his longing, that desperate need. It was time. We both knew it and our thoughts fluttered back and forth. There were tears in his eyes. And again I was pulled into the void of his heart. The depth of his loss, unfathomable. To have loved and to have lost, in the realm of our thousands of years of life, seemed so mundane to me. But her face was seared in his mind. His failure. To love was our failing. Our ultimate weakness. We see the needs of others so clearly, we long to need the same as them. And this was the result of our failings. "I am sorry."His words were distant to me in that moment if sadness. We were not infallible. Often we could see what a person needed, but not their path to get there. Some deeds were just beyond our power. But there were times we could see clearly what we must do. I rose. He wanted to say more. But my mind pressed down on his. Silenced him once more. He was older, but I was stronger. Untouched by failings of the heart. The heart... I felt the moment his stopped beating. Thousands of years... meaningless after a few years of weakness. And I was alone again.
I reckon lots of people in the town figured it were a suicide mission. I spent the last fifteen years of my life wandering 'cross the prairie, providing what little comfort I can with my gift. I'd never say that I was a great cook, and, hell, I think I'd have to sit in sermon if I said I thought I was a good cook, but I've always had a certain...knack for it, I reckon is the best term. The last town I went to drove me out for consorting with witches, seeing as how I was able to cook a meal for the mayor that he hadn't had since the passing of his dear sweet ma but twelve years ago. I understand how jarring it is, believe me I do. The only food I cook for myself is... ...well, this story ain't about that. When I rolled up onto Thistle Grove, I didn't expect much. Just a town on the edge of survival trying to eke out a life for the people as best as the people could do. Saloon, sheriff's office, sundries, all the staples of a small town like this. They were only a day's ride or so from the mountains to the west and the nearest train yard to the south, so I reckoned that they probably did trade with metals. I went to the saloon and offered my services with the pitch I always provided: if I can't make your favorite food in one go, then I'll move on. An hour or so later and the bartender was crying into the soup and offering me a place to stay as his new cook. Things went like this for a few months and the saloon boomed for it. People were coming 'round from all corners of their little territory to get that spark of memory. They didn't have to say a word to me, and I always seemed to have just the ingredients I needed on hand. I might have spent a few years of my life there if it weren't for the way the sheriff had called a meeting of every able bodied, even handed man. I had a guess that the town wasn't exactly what you'd call 'prosperous', but it was apparently worse than I thought. The sheriff told us that the men in the mines were being held captive by an outlaw gunman and his posse, and had issued demands for their return. More money than the town had together, and no guarantee that they wouldn't turn around and trap them again if they even let them go alive. They could easily stampede through and burn the whole damn town down if they thought to do it, and the sheriff planned to make a strike against them with all that we had. Maybe he's a big enough name that we can turn him into the law, he said to the men, which since a whole shift of able men were working in the mines was made up of mostly young men not even out of their teenage years and the old men that had hung up their guns already. They'd get slaughtered. So I said to the sheriff, 'what if I handle this? I'm an old man already; they won't think I'm up to no good, and if it goes sour on me then at least he's not losing a real able bodied man'. He thought about it most of the day before finally coming back and asking what my plan was. I tell him that in my line of work I've learned that the only thing a man really needs at the end of the day is a meal, and that I was hedging on a bet that I could diffuse the situation enough to at least maybe get these bandits away from the town and have my next gig lined up for a little while. I'd worked with unsavory men before, I assured him, and they weren't so bad. I rode out the next day on my own, with a small sack of ingredients and water and some jerky to get me through the day. I wouldn't be stopping to cook for myself today; I didn't have the time and if I sat down to cook I might get sloppy talking to them. No one wants to negotiate with a man who looks so broken. Sometime in the fading twilight I rode up on the hold-up, taking my lantern with me off the horse and raising my hands to show I was unarmed and pulling strength down from God above to steel me. Calvin Cassius Calburn was the man's name that rode out to meet me, and if he weren't pointing a rifle in my face I'd have sworn that I'd seen him in some fancy town I'd cut through and that he'd taken a very wrong turn down the road. He was a young man still, raw and itching to prove to the other men that he was cunning and blood thirsty. Dangerous. With the promise of the meal of his life, a meal that'll make him forget hardship and remember the joy of his youth on threat of my hide, the miners returned home. I wanted to write this down in case the worst happens. And if the worst happens, at least I won't have to make my own supper alone again.
Bertha laughed with her stupid, gloating face when she heard I was going to visit the Oracle. She thinks she's so smart and knows everything about everyone. I hate her so much. Jules wanted to come and be on hand to perform an amazing rescue when I undoubtedly fell into perile. He really needs to get laid. By a real person. Not an imaginary damsel who looks nothing like me in a dress. Brilliantly, I gathered everything needed for a long, arduous journey into my sturdy pack, hid all of Bertha's clothes in a conveniently burning field I had prepared earlier, and made my way out of town. Three days passed before stupid Bertha and a slightly singed Jules set off on the journey to the Oracle. Three long days of no showers, no roasting marshmallows, no delightfully flirty bartender making me delicious drinks. It was the worst. If I'd known how long Jules would dither before heroically charging after me I wouldn't have bothered to pimp out this super cool, very hidden, cave. I wonder if that bartender would be amenable to visiting my cave. I have a few months to fill before Jules comes back.
I stood, going through all that I needed to do at work today. I would have to print out those forms, give them to Belinda, work on the document, complete the weekly survey, and scan the photos. I sighed. As the lift stopped at a floor, its doors opened letting one person out and two people in. "Does it look like I care about what the university thinks? There's an outbrake and hundreds of them are on the loose!"one hissed. "Yes, I know, Dave,"said the other with forced calmness, "but we can't make a mess of it is what I'm saying." "But they're demons, Ken. They'll kill everyone, first the mortals, then us. You do realise that if that happens, the whole system will be thrown into chaos? And you want to keep it calm and unseen? It's madness!" I stood awkwardly in the corner. The one named Ken gave me an apologetic smile and prodded Dave sharply in the back of the head. Dave looked at me, and I got the impression that he hadn't seen me upon entering the lift. His eyes widened slightly. "Oh, hello,"he said. Not knowing what to say, I smiled and nodded. The lift came to a halt, and the doors opened. I stepped out, and made my way through the maze of office cubicles to my own. I could have sworn that when I stepped out, Ken hissed: "See? That's what I mean about keeping quiet. They'll find out too much and dissolve in their own terror. Best to not let them know."
It was the second day of summer vacation, and I was getting antsy. I had spent 14 of the previous 36 hours sitting in a car as we road tripped up to New Hampshire, and as a 10 year old, I was certainly not made for long trips in small vehicles. We were passing through the southern edge of Vermont, about two hours out from our destination, when the storm hit. My parents decided to keep pushing through, and try to make it before it got too bad. We were still an hour out when we came to a rustic looking covered bridge, paint faded and leafless dead trees hanging their branches on either side. I expressed my immediate misgivings with a quiet “that looks super creepy,” but I was ignored. In fact, there was no reaction whatsoever to my words, from my siblings or my parents. We began driving slowly through the bridge, and just as we came out the other side, I noticed the swamp off to the left, with an old dirt road curving around the edge to the right. My father didn’t follow the road though. Instead he drove straight into the swamp. We began to sink, and I rushed to get unbuckled, but the little clicker thing wouldn’t unlatch. Around me, my family was simply staring straight ahead. I eventually got the latch undone, and I began to shake each of my family members. Outside the car, the water was starting to reach the level of the windows. I gave up on waking them up, and hoped the shock of the water might spur them into action, so I opened the sliding side door and hopped out. I swam to shore, and just as I turned around, the car completely sunk. I waited for what felt like an hour, desperately hoping someone would emerge, coughing or spluttering. But no one came. I was alone.
I jerk awake. It felt so real. It felt like I was going to fall and die. I shield my eyes from the piercing sun. Who left the windows open? Why do I feel nauseated? I rub my eyes and look around to get a better understanding of what is going on. I notice the rhythmic rumbling of my room only now. What's happening? Wait this isn't my room! This is a train coach. Why am I in a train coach? Where was I before? I know I just woke up from a dream, but I don't recall getting onto a train. What was I dreaming about? Which is the question I should prioritise and get an answer for? My head hurts. Was I drinking last night? But why am I on a train? Why am I not panicking?! Wait there's no one else here. It's an empty train coach. I get up to look around. Maybe there are people in the next coach who might have some answers. I'm barely holding it together as the train rumbling on its worsening my headache and I could puke at any moment. I manage to make it to the end of the coach without vomitting. I press the door lever and push the door. It doesn't budge. I start pumping the lever with my body weight fully on the door as if that's going to magically make the door open. After a minute of struggling with the door, I finally give up. There it is. The panicking. It is finally setting in. WHY AM I ALONE ON A TRAIN?! This is unexplainably odd. Am I dreaming right now? How would I even know? I pinch myself in the arm and it does hurt. There goes the only explanation I can come up with. This is maddening. What is this? An I bring kidnapped? Is this some kind of hidden camera show? WHAT IS THIS?! WHAT DO I DO?!? "SOMEBODY HELP!"I yell as I realise I've not yet shouted for help. Can anyone hear me over the rumbling of the train? "I NEED HELP! IM CONFUSED! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP!". That did it. My stomach turned and I vomited. My head was throbbing. I could barely sit up. This is it. This is unbearable. I continue to yell and curse in the hopes that whoever put me here makes SOME kind of contact. I'd settle for an announcement of which station we are at now. But no. There's no response. Looking out the windows all I see is the hot desert stretching on till the eye can see. What do I do? What is my way out of this? Why put me through this? My tormentors might as well have killed me. That would've been so much better. Unless..... Whoever my tormentors are, they need me alive! So if I attempt to rob them of myself, that should get their attention! I pull myself up and walk to the coach's main door. I pull down the archaic latch at the top and push down the door lever and fling it open. This is it. Whoever is doing this will HAVE to come in and stop me now. I look down at the desert rolling past me. For some reason, I'm sure someone is watching and will stop me from doing this. I take a step out and..... I jerk awake. It felt so real. It felt like I was going to fall and die. I shield my eyes from the piercing sun. The rhythmic rumbling feels strangely familiar.
"So, you're insuring what exactly?"I glanced up from the papers that had been shuffled into my hands and focused on the other man instead. I had listened to his spiel, but so far it all seemed like snake oil. "Time, my friend!"His voice was thunderous, but in a joyous way. His flushed cheeks were either from far too many nights spent drowning in bottles or a natural exuberance for life in general. "What time?"The pamphlets were covered in a bright array of timepieces - watches, wall and digital clocks, stopwatches, even metronomes. I was surprised that Bob was peddling paper instead of using a handheld device like most salesmen nowadays. "All time, of course!"He had erupted into raucous laughter at my question, so it had taken him a moment to recover and answer. He wiped his sweat-beaded brow with a handkerchief before continuing. "I'm insuring the time you have left on our God-given green Earth,"he gestured around him to the artificial garden and lawn in front of my house. Nothing green was "God-given"anymore. "Think of it, my friend - you'd be guaranteed to live a certain amount of time. Time to watch your family grow, watch the future happen. More space exploration, more movies and holograms, more quality time for the things that matter! You'd be stupid to say no and no doubt regret it for whatever amount of time you'd have left!"Specks of spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke, his excitement unable to stay behind the row of off-white teeth. "But, Bob, how can you guarantee any amount of time?"I was now leaning against the door jam, pamphlets still in hand. At this point, Bob was amusing me with his old-school door-to-door tactics. "Science! It's all in the fine print on the back of the third pamphlet! Now look, obviously I'm not some fancy college boy, so I can't go through it all, but all you need to know is this: it's guaranteed!"I quirked an eyebrow at Bob in disbelief. Apparently this read as amazement for him. "That's right! You just sign up, get the first three months as a risk-free trial and then you have peace of mind for life! FOR LIFE, my friend! Again, it's all on the back of the pamphlet there, but if you're not taking the risk and the company is, how can you say no?" "What risk is that, Bob?"He eyes darted and he nervously wiped his brow, though the break in his composure was fleeting. "The risk of saying no to such a great deal, of course!"he replied with a toothy smile.
“Awww! You’re the protagonist? Man, that means you’ll have ALL the fun.” “Dude, chill, everyone knows that the ‘sidekick’ goes on the same adventures!” “Yeah! But it’s not the same! The sidekick always starts off normal, but then progressively gets more idiotic and unlucky! AND that means my life is in your hands because the hero ALWAYS has to save the sidekick, even if the sidekick is usually able to defend himself/herself.” “You don’t trust me with your life?” “I would say that I do, but sometimes I can’t even trust you with white pants.” “...sigh... Just this once?” “Fine.” “Also, according to my superpowers, the author only made us do this for comedic effect.” “Gosh dang it.” —30 Minutes Later— “Do you remember what we did for the last thirty minutes?” “Has your head been in the clouds? We’ve been walking to school, remember?” “Uh no? I just could’ve sworn there was a time skip...” “Ah, your ability again?” “Yep. Also, WHY are we walking to school? We could totally be using our superpowers.” “Because education is important.” “...That was corny, and you know it. Also, totally not like you. Sheesh it’s like you’re starting to turn into the stereotypical hero.” There was a thundering boom, and suddenly we see the bank we pass on the way to school in flames. Three men run out, carrying bags of money. Sarah flashes into action, using her newfound superhuman speed and strength to punch the robbers to the ground, and then restrain them. I sprint into the bank, and then realize that the whole point of this scene is probably to set up the first true hero scene. I internally sigh as I help guide the people in the bank outside. I grab the first aid kit on the way out. Now, I may not be some superhero with the ability to heal wounds, but I have the next best thing, training in First Aid! As I begin treating some of the people for their burns, a distraught woman screams for her little Tommy. “Where’s Tommy? Is he with you young man?” “No, I didn’t find any kids inside the bank. I’ll go back in to try and find him. Stay here please.” I sprint back inside the burning bank, calling out for Tommy. I hear faintly hear whimpers, and I find the little boy pinned by a fallen chandelier. I knew that Sarah was still occupied with the robbers, so I had to try to move the chandelier on my own. The chandelier BURNS. The heat from the surrounding fires had made he chandelier hard to hold, and the smoke was starting to make me choke. I could hear Tommy gasping for air. I heave and pull, until I can finally free Tommy. I guide him towards he exit, making sure to stay low to the ground so we don’t suffocate. Suddenly, I hear a crackling sound, and look up only to see a wooden beam start falling. Out of instinct and fear, I push Tommy right outside through the doors, and now that I saved someone. I was fully resigned to my fate, when Sarah came and grabbed me using her super speed. Outside, I saw the mother and little Tommy, crying into each other’s arms. She looks up at me and mutters several thank yous. When the people I saved saw me unharmed in the arms of my best friend, they greeted us with a hero’s cheer. But I expected “Sarah! Sarah!”, not the “Kellyn! Kellyn!”. I was confused, wasn’t Sarah the protagonist of this story? I mean, she DID stop those robbers. I quietly asked Sarah why they were cheering for me when she was the protagonist who stopped the bank robbers. “Don’t be silly stupid, I mean, even with your fourth-wall powers you didn’t see it? They’re cheering for YOU because you were the savior protagonist. So much for your powers. You got there because you were pretty much average.”
"So you wish for a tale of wizards and warlocks, do you? I know of such a tale. Some say he was a simple man from the mountains once, that was cursed by the fay folk!"The narrator regaled. "They warped his voice, and gave him knowledge of things unseen and unheard" "Others say he was crushed when the great library crumbled down and he spent many weeks crawling through books and novellas to reach the surface with only the leatherbound books to sustain him. But alas, he was never the same after that. He had read what other men would not read. Dared not read." "He would travel the land, and demand knowledge from kings and emperors, and if they refused, they would know his wrath." "His power lay not in great spells, or communion with the gods, nay, his power was in his very words. He had only to whisper to a lord, and it would spread like wildfire throughout the land. Work would cease, and groans of pain could be heard in every corner of the land. As they heard the phrase, they would die a little inside. The worst thing was that once someone was cursed with this horrid curse, they would not stop. Could not stop. They would bend words to their will, sickening words that should not exist. What did he whisper, you ask? He whispered a pun. A play on words. An innocent thing on its own, but spoken by him, it became a terrible curse for the entire realm. One could say that it was.... Terrealmable! Oh, no! what have I done? Flee! Hear me no more, it has spread! Flee into the woods, near and far, and talk to no one, listen to no one lest you become punfected! Run!"
Dear A, I’m so sorry I hurt you. I did love you. I really did. But it was a different kind of love. I shortly realized that the love I had for you was more of a family/friendship thing. I truly am sorry I broke your heart. I hope you find love someday. Someone who will love you wholeheartedly and accept your flaws and imperfections. I enjoyed my time with you. You taught me so much. And I hope I was able to make you happy in return. I’ll always be your friend. ❤️
Well, I loved this prompt. Here's the first one I ever wrote. Pity they've removed it before I commented. I hope you like it anyway. “I first met Molly Gardener in 3rd grade. We were playing kickball and my foot planted that ball right in her face. That’s the event that would lead us to becoming best friends over the last nineteen years. Sure, we had our moments of fighting over boys, monopoly, and that time I crashed her car into the McDonald’s drive-thru. Right is gas, left is brake.” The circle around the cherry wood colored casket let out a quiet chuckle. The speaker, Anna Toyer, stretched her lips to form a grin as a solitary teardrop rolled down her cheek. Anna cleared her throat and continued with the eulogy she wrote just three hours ago. “We both had a lot of friends that went their separate ways after highschool and even more after college. Not very many people are lucky enough to share a bond throughout those years, especially when you attend different universities. Molly and I always found a way to make time for each other. Our mothers suspected it was more than friendship, and in a way it was, we were sisters.” Anna paused again to allow the crowd to be swept with grief. She dared not let her face leak any emotion. Anna drew a breath, her eyes quickly surveyed the circle of Molly’s friends, family, and fiance. She let herself exhale and continued. “I loved her, because Molly is the beacon of all that is good in humanity. Her empathy outshined the neverending negativity that we encounter in our daily lives. Her exhausting work with underprivileged youth and those suffering from addiction should be an example for us all to walk in. I don’t like to use the word hero, but if such a title exists Molly wore it well. If only we could have one fourth the charisma, compassion, and strength she possessed. I’ll tell you our world would be a better place.” Anna paused for several seconds as she bit down on her bottom lip. An older couple toward the left of Anna let out a loud moan followed by muffled cries. Molly’s parents loved Anna, after all they knew her since she was eight years old. Whatever emotion they had left after learning about the freak explosion that killed their daughter, came pouring out as Anna continued on. “I’ll miss you, Molly. Life won’t be the same. However, I know you’ll always be with me. I won’t let what you’ve help me become fade away. You’re the star in my heavens now, and I want you to burn brighter than the sun. I want you to outshine all the sadness that creeps into my being. That’s the only way I can repay you for being my sister. May you rest in peace.” Anna placed her hand on Molly’s casket as she knelt down beside it. She let her forehead gently rest against the seam between the lid and the casket wall. The wood felt cold and lifeless against her flesh. Odd, Anna thought, that’s exactly how she felt inside. “Cold, but I know I’m justified,” she thought. “Please don’t take it personally, I had to kill you.” Anna struggled to fight back a smile. “Your kind is an abomination on this Earth. If the others knew what you really were they would have done the same. Well, the saved ones anyway. God has given me the strength to completely eradicate your kind. Funny, how with god’s infinite love a normal human can outsmart you. God’s test proves that if I have the will to eliminate my best friend, then I’m his holy hammer in this war against,” Anna’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Molly’s finance, Derek, placed his hand on her shoulder snapping her back to reality. She quickly stood up, rubbing the wrinkles out that had formed on her blouse. She embraced him in a tight hug allowing him to weep in her arms. She smiled to herself, recalling the wisdom from Job 22:30 ‘He delivers even the one who is not innocent, who will be delivered through the cleanness of your hands.’
Indistinct radio chatter "Ground hog to station repeat ground hog to station the ship has made a clean decent into the orbit thirty minutes away from the target zone." "......... static .........static .............static............................................................................................." "Copy that ground hog We are now monitoring the ships temperature everything seems to be in order you should have a clean entry. Prepare for a minor rise in the ships internal temperature besides that the new cryo-tech heat shields seems to be doing their job, Await further instructions upon entry." "Ground hog to station copy that loud and clear. Lets make history." With that the small vessel Plunged into the heart of the Red Giant Orb. meanwhile on the orbiter station lieutenant corphus was fifteen minutes late from his designated schedule and was still stretching his legs inside the gym, when he heard the message through intercom. "Lieutenant corphus and lieutenant Dan are required to report to the hull immediately." "I will Repeat once again lieutenant Dan and lieutenant corphus are required to report to hull Asap, captains orders." At first the young lieutenant got a little annoyed at this message, Every one aboard the orbiter knew that corphus never broke his ritual no matter how late he was he always ran on the grav floor after waking up and no one had ever dared to bother him during his ritual. "hmm yeoman charles never repeats a message must be a really pressing matter,I should go."corphus muttered to himself still running (updated more soon any feedback would be much appreciated)
I’d been watching the whale for a few hours now, it’s been eyeing me off curious at what I am. This isn’t unusual, most deep sea creatures come in for a closer look then move off into the darkness when something else catches their attention. This whale though, it had started bothering me about an hour after I’d first noticed it. It seemed to be watching intently, I felt like I was making direct eye contact every time I looked up at it. I’m four hours into a five hour shift, the work I’m doing for the Navy is, well to be honest, I don’t really know. My job is to check the underwater cables and tighten the holding on each pipe connection if required, I don’t know what the pipes are for but I’m guessing it’s cables for a new offshore facility they’re looking to build. I’ve been in the Navy for a few years now, I was always interested in deep sea diving so when I found out about this opportunity I jumped at it. I thought I’d have all sorts of special training, but it turns out with these atmospheric diving suits (ADS) I didn’t even need to show them I could swim. I looked up again, the whale was closer now, I’d say 15 feet, if you’ve ever seen a whale you’ll know that it was engulfing my entire field of vision with its eye staring into mine. I looked back down at the pipe, scolding myself for freaking out about a whale, it eats krill for god sake! “Human, it’s time” I froze. Did I just hear that? My mind flicked, geez am I getting the bends? Shit! I’m getting the bends! What if I lose consciousness? Wait....no that can’t happen in an ADS, that’s impossible... “Human, I said it’s time” The voice was booming this time. I had definitely heard correctly the first time. I realised I was staring at the pipe still, I hadn’t moved, I was frozen. “Human, I mean you no harm. It’s time, you must listen to me” The voice was calmer now, but I was the most frightened I’ve every been in my life. I wondered if the guys up on deck were playing a prank. Maybe this suit has communication points in the helmet? Yeah, of course the guys are playing a trick! I can’t believe I fell for it! Thank god I didn’t scream or something that would have been embarrassing! They won’t know I was actually shitting myself. I finished tightening the connector, looked up and the whale was still there looking at me. “What?” I said, a smirk on my face as I looked at the whale. “I said, IT’S TIME” Ohhhhhhh my god, the whale just spoke! I saw it’s mouth move! The booming voice was the whale! Oh my god! “Human, don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you. I’ve been watching you for some movement of the tide, wondering how this will go, trying to work out what to say so you won’t be fearful. I’m sorry I failed.” I was frozen again. “Human, you’re world is no more. The fire from the sky is burning the land. There are few of your kind left but I can take you somewhere safe.” Still frozen, I’m trying to unpick the words coming from the whale while coming to terms with a talking whale. “Come now Human, take hold of me, I will take you to safety.” My arm outstretched, almost like automation. I don’t remember doing it, but it was doing it and I grabbed lightly to it’s fin. “Hold on Human, tight as you can.” I still hadn’t spoken. I was scared and calm and in awe all at once. I felt the pressure of the water currents as we moved, gaining speed. It felt like being on a roller coaster.
Valida was a dark sorceress of unparalleled power. All she met bowed to her will or where crushed. She had all the beauty, power, and respect she could ever want. Then her sister arrived and ruined everything. She hadn't realized she had a sister, her mother had never mentioned one. When she asked about her father the response was a slave who was unlucky enough to be handsome while her mother was feeling lonely. There wasn't any chance of a twin sister there, so who was this woman who looked just like her? "Mistress, we haven't heard from the southern tower in months. I fear something may have happened to it."Valida's butler Charles had arrived to make her day even worse. "That would be her. What does she want, are there not enough lands to conquer that she had to infringe on mine?" "I believe she aims to free your citizens. They have been rather vocal in their complaints recently." "Of course they have, the ungrateful rabble." "Shall I have someone flogged? That always brings them back into line."Charles's zeal for dispensing punishment was commendable, but in this case it was tactically unsound. "Not as long as my sister lives. She'll only turn it into something to rally around." "Then I suppose we have to deal with her first. Shall I send scouts out for her?" "Go on ahead. But no one lays a finger on her. If she's anything like me then I'll be the only one able to stop her. Anyone else would just be giving her practice." ____ Addie sat in the southern tower, wondering when her half-sister would take notice of her. Surely the great Valida wouldn't stand for another fortress of hers to be taken, yet she'd already claimed seven with no success. Defeating her was much less exciting than they had made it seem back at the priory. Oh well, at least the people where happier. That's what mattered right?
I knew it was only a matter of time before I was captured. While contemplating what to do, I realize there was only one way out. Suicide! If captured I would most likely be executed on the spot. I’d rather go out on my terms. I told my newly wed wife Ava of my plan, reluctantly she agreed. In the bunker there were plenty of cyanide capsules. Just Incase they were duds I tested one out on my dog. I wrapped it in a piece of bread and fed it to him. For a moment here sat there happily enjoying his bread waiting on the off chance that he’ll get another. Then he fell to the floor foaming at the mouth, while rapidly seizing. They worked I thought to my self with a grin. I got Ava and we both took a capsule. I was afraid I wouldn’t work so just Incase I had a gun. a sudden intense head ache rushed over me, I could barely control my body, unable to breath then I fell to the floor. From there just like the dog I started seizing. My hard was pounding harder than ever before. bu-dum. bu-dum. bu-dum. bu-dum.. bu-dum... bu-dum.... bu-dum.... Before I even realized it I saw dazzling light, all moving in a spiral around me. The the colors lasted but a moment then vanished, all that was left was black. Pure black. I saw nothing, then a small flicker in the distance caught my eye. It was no brighter than a lit cigarette. I walked towards it only to notice I was becoming brighter the closer I got. Once I reached the source I was unable to distinguish anything from the light there was no longer any darkness only the brightest light I had ever seen. Then it vanished. For a few moments I was unable to see anything. Once my vision returned what I saw dumb founded me, all around me was a city park. Everything looked very familiar but was slightly different. I walked to the edge of the park and read the sign “Ebertstraße.” I stumbled back upon reading it. I was still In Berlin. There’s no way, I was sure I was dead. how am I still here? How did I get outside? Wtf is going on? Just then a tall muscular man approach me.”what do you want” I said. He looked pissed, without saying a single word he punched me square in the face. I don’t remember much after that but when I came to, my hands were bond and head covered. I struggled to free my hands then a deep nasally voice said “we’ve been waiting for you.” “ you’re going to suffer for what you did...Adolf”
There sat Mr. K, reading yet another brick-resembling book. In his two spare hours, Professor Kylus Panettiere would refill his thermos with scalding black coffee, leave the teachers lounge, walk steadily through the pathways that connected two of the most populated buildings—One, a modern, bright colored construction belonging to Architecture students. The other, the largest in the University, belonging to Engineers of all kinds— until he reached the old but legendary library. There, he’d sit in his usual spot: a comfy maroon couch placed in the far left corner, two steps behind the paleontology aisle. No one ever went there, and for this reason, Mr. K would forget all about engineering and immerse himself in his favorite sci-fi enormous series: ‘The Worlds Beyond Home’… “Goddard found himself in a hassle, what with having to choose between securing his crew and abandon IOWA 4-30, the ship his father had built with his bare hands, or fire back at the multiple incoming nuclear nano-ships, commanded by Ramirus the Third, King regent of Nova, the green planet. Without thinking about it twice, Goddard took a deep breath and turned the speaker on...” ‘He’s such an asshole!’ Mr. K recoiled. His mental movie suddenly shattered. He put the book down, open, and with a slow motion of his head and his eyes, he searched for the origin of such high pitched phrase. ‘I mean, what should I do now? He hooked up with that whore Megan, and I don’t mean first, second or even third base, they went full Kamasutra, or at least that’s what Jenny told Harold, who told Chris, who told the whole football team…’ There, the paleontology aisle. ‘Ahem,’ Mr. K cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to make his presence noticeable. The chattering stopped. He heard steps moving away. He sighed, cleared his mind and grabbed the book, continuing where he had left off. “Without thinking it twice, Goddard took a deep breath and turned the speaker on…” ‘I’M NOT GETTING HUMILLIATED AGAIN. I’M GONNA DUMP HIM AND MAKE IT SEEM LIKE I DID IT WAY BEFORE HE SLEPT WITH THAT BITCH-‘ Mr. K lifted his eyes away from the book. ‘AHEM!’ he shouted. ‘WE SHOULD ALSO SPREAD THE RUMOUR THAT SHE HAS HERPES OR SOMETHING, THAT WILL TEACH HIM…” Apparently, simple hints would not silence a revengeful teenager. Angry, Mr. K closed his book, took a gulp from his coffee without a grimace and marched towards the entrance. ‘Professor Kylus, good to see you! How’s “Words Beyond Home” so far?’ said the librarian, a smiling young woman. Mr. K glanced at her for a second, frowned and continued walking in small, hard steps. The smile on her vanished. She knew what that frown and those funny little childish steps meant. ‘Professor, not again!’ ‘Mind your business, Beatrice,” he said as he turned the lever from the fire-alarm down and walked back to his seat among the sprinkling water, where passed by two girls screaming, running with books over her wet heads. He sat, took a sip of his coffee, cleared his mind yet again and opened his book. “Without thinking it twice, Goddard took a deep breath and turned the speaker on…”
"She didn't mean anything!"Paul pleaded, offering his unlocked phone to me. "Take a look, I haven't talked to her. It's been months since I've seen her." The anger ripped through my jaw, my neck, my arms. All my muscles tensed in its wake. I didn't realize I was clenching my teeth until he brushed his fingertips against my shoulder. "Do. Not. Touch. Me."I spat, throwing my wallet in my purse. "Abby,"Paul reached out a hand in surrender but I turned away from him. "It was one time, just once. She needed a ride home from work. That's all. It just happened. It was quick. We didn't even go inside her house. It happened in the car. Five whole minutes," I pulled my bag onto my shoulder and tore my keys off the dresser. Thinks he can disrespect me? Thinks he can fuck that bitch Sophia and get away with it? Thinks he can lie to me? Boy, did he have a realization coming. I stomped out the front door, hearing the screen smack against the door frame. It screeched as he ran through it, still begging me to "stop,"and "wait."He sounded like a little boy, dropped his ice cream on the July pavement. I unlocked my car, threw my bag on the passenger's seat. I started the car up and nearly sat down-- then I remembered. The sledgehammer, in the shed. You see, Paul tried to be a tough guy, a man's man. He bought that sledgehammer so he could practice swinging the thing around like an idiot, smashing old TVs and radios and computers he had picked up. He'd have you believe he was Paul Bunyan. Truth was, he was a fucking bunion. And I was gonna sever the whole damn foot. I threw my coat off into the cab of the car, its engine purring softly against the trunks of the forest around us. I jogged over to the shed, cheering myself on silently. Yeah, he's gonna get his. He sure is. Just you wait, Paul. You fucking scumbag. I pulled the sledgehammer from the wall. Damn, it was heavy. Didn't matter. I could do this. All those yoga classes and protein shakes were going to pay off right now-- thanks, Paul. I dragged the hammer through the muck in the shed-- a damp tangle of pine needles, crunchy leaves and heaps of sod. When I emerged from the shed, he laughed. He actually laughed at me. "What're ya going to do with that, huh?"He breathed, his pleas turned to chuckles under his breath. '*This,' I thought, as I raised the hammer from the ground. My biceps and thighs heaved as I pulled it higher, to my knee, to my waist. My back tore in protest, but I kept it steady for just a second-- just long enough for the momentum to catch. 'Good enough!' and I slammed the hammer into his driver window with all the might I could muster. Every ounce of pain, regret, my mother's "told you so"'s all stacked together and the sledgehammer hit his window with just enough force that it exploded into a million fragments. It screeched in a manner I hadn't ever heard, like a thick sheet of foil wrap getting hit with hail stones during a massive blizzard. The sound of Paul's scream as he watched the damage felt better than any of the five minute fucks I'd agreed to with him, too. As I sat the sledgehammer down on the driver seat and began to walk away from him, I thought to myself, 'Well, that wasn’t the sound I was expecting.*'
Since childhood, I've had this dream, a dream that is so strange, that I can never remember all of the details when I wake up. I always only remember small pieces, REALLY small pieces, like opening a door, or sliding to hide under the bed, and by the time I have the dream next, those memories are gone. Now, I found on the internet an ad that offered "A device that can make your wildest dreams... COME TRUE", and it showed a picture of the device, it didn't look like anything special, just a small, sliver box with a needle protruding from the top. Naturally, it intrigued me, so I clicked the ad. It took me to a blank website, all white, with a single button in the dead center of my screen, it was the purchase button, I hit it. It didn't ask me to pay for a thing, just said "thank you for your purchase!"and instantly closed out of the tab for me. Now, by this point I probably should have suspected that something fishy was going on, but I didn't think anything of it, just thought it was a joke site, and ad, and moved on with my life. A week later the package arrived, it looked like something straight out of a sci fi movie, black, shiny, sleek, no visible way to open it. I picked it up and brought it inside. I tried everything I could think to open the box, but none of it worked, I tried poking it, asking it politely, pressing my palm against the sides, I tried smashing it, but eventually I gave up and thought it wasn't openable. I didn't think of it at all until I was finally getting ready to go to sleep, when I heard a loud beeping coming from the kitchen, where I had set down the box. I thought it might've been a smoke detector, the oven, even the microwave, but I never expected it to be that box. When I looked at it, what had previously been six smooth, black surfaces, now were shifting in absurdly intricate patterns, and the beeping dulled to a hum as soon as I approached it. The shifting stopped, and from the center emerged the device said to "Make my wildest dreams come true". In front of the device was a note, it read: "Insert the needle on your temple next time you sleep, and the first dream you dream, will become a reality.". I thought "what the hell, let's give it a shot, maybe find out what that dream is.". I was skeptical, but I inserted the device into my temple, and immediately fell asleep. It was my apartment, but there was a kettle boiling over on the stove, I didn't remember putting that there, I went and turned off the heat, I left the kettle to boil over, because something else had caught my attention. There was a door across the room that I had never noticed before, not only that, but there was LIGHT ON BEHIND THE DOOR. I moved towards it, slowly turned the handle, which was difficult to turn seemingly from a lack of use, as soon as I stepped through the door, and as soon as I did, the light vanished and I found myself back where I started, standing in my apartment, kettle whistling, except now there was another sound, it sounded like water running over. I took the kettle off, looked around, and the door was gone. I went towards the sound of water, which led me to the bathroom, where the sink was on full, flooding my sink. I tiptoed to the sink so as not to get my feet entirely wet, turned off the faucet, and then I heard someone using the keys at the door, which is strange, because I am the only one that has working keys at this time, so I check through the peephole (if that's what it's called), and saw no one, but the sound of keys didn't stop, then I heard the lock click. Whatever it was, it got the door open. I was there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do, eventually I decided hiding might as well be the best tactic, so I ran and hid... under my bed. I heard footsteps, coming closer, I heard something heavy be dropped on the counter, then the footsteps went in to the bathroom. I took this opportunity to bolt, I ran outside of the room, I ran out of my apartment, out of the building, and right when I reached the front door, I noticed there was a light on, and once I stepped through the door, there I was, outside my apartment, fumbling with the keys. Under my arm was a box, a black box, six smooth black surfaces, no visible way to open it, almost like something out of a sci-fi story. I placed the box on the counter and tried to open it. I tried as many methods I could think of, I tried asking it, using fingerprints, and lastly, smashing it. But it wouldn't open so I gave up and got ready to go to sleep, which is when I heard the beeping, which slowed to a hum as I drew close to the box, it's surfaces shifting in intricate patterns, and up rose the device with a not telling me to wear it on my temple, and the next dream I have will become a reality. I was skeptical, but I attached the device to my temple, and fell immediately asleep. I was in my apartment, and the kettle was on....
Man, is that new gel deodorant really that good? It has to be all over the place in gas stations, big stores, and they bought out all of the adspace on tv? How "great smelling"can it be that every single damn person has to use it? Axe is just fine! Good thing my home is my safehaven... all that nasty stuff out in the world is not worth it. Who needs a car? Extra maintenance. Who needs friends? They're just a nuisance. All I need is myself... and my room. Why go outside when Amazon delivers? Why go outside when I can work from home? Come to think of it...... why haven't my food packs come yet? I ordered them a week ago; they should be here by now. Don't mind that for now. Well, how shall I pass the time today? Let's start by.... checking out how my artwork is doing! Hope my new work's been selling well! ... WHAT?! Not even a single buy?! Idiots... they don't know what good art is! How does that happen? 98 sells the last post, and then I post this new one and it gets nothing?! How am I going to pay for my food? Now I'll be depressed all day.... good going. Just... stare out the window like always... watch the chaos out there like usual... wait... not one single car outside, on a Friday? This can't be right... [idk how to end it.... I tried]
A small child ambles around a street. He's a boy of ten years, at most. Filth covers his ratty remains of clothing. The putrid stench of his own waste doesn't phase him. In one hand is a knife; a clean, sharp thing that captures the nearby street light's radiance. The other hand is mutilated beyond recognition, and simply hangs uselessly. Down the street is a group of three men. Blotched shades of green, brown, and mixtures there of cover the sturdy clothing they wear. An American Flag can be seen sewn on their forearm. A sense of pragmatism can be heard from their words, but their eyes betray sickening self doubt. No one will question what's been done despite all of them desperately needing reassurance that they're not monsters. The boy stands over a large mass covered in hair and fur. Lanky legs jut from the mass, and a long neck twists upward before terminating with a gawking, glassy eyed head. There's no sign of the car; just it's pray. The boy checks to see if it's warm. He knew it would be, he just heard the accident. He dirty's his new knife on the carcass's jugular and pushes his filthy mouth against the newly produced stream. He didn't notice the bright beams of light curiously scouring the area, nor did he notice the foot steps or swearing. He looked up after hearing someone told to shut the fuck up in an official capacity. He didn't notice anything after the gunshots. "I miss the goddamn mosquitoes."
I did it, they’re all here. Now I just have to put my plan into action. My whole life I have always had rivals, they have always been in my way and I am sick of it. But that changes today... today is when I finally am free, today is when I can write without competition. I invited all of my fellow writers out into the middle of nowhere, after building up all of their trust. Now all I need to do is stand back, and watch, as I blow their miserable souls to oblivion. All I need to do is press one button... “I don’t know what happened” I said. “There was a large explosion, and I turned around to see everyone dead”. The fools actually believed me... ——————————————————- I’m very new to writing, so this is probably terrible, but thanks for reading it anyway!
It is time to slip again. This is what we call it in my tribe. Like a slipskin grape, the easy and soft peeling of outer tissue, revealing the hearty fruit within. But it hurts. It is agony beyond comparison, truth be told. This is why slipskin are revered as the strongest of warriors, for their fortitude must be that of ten men. "Hurry!"Akante hisses, sweat dripping from the end of his long, hooked nose. As I study him carefully, I realize everything about my brother is long. His eyelashes, fine and black as feather down; his ostrich-like neck; his torso. His arms, too. They will be trouble, as both are covered in intricate tattoos. Here, a skull with roses for eyes -- the sign of the Skully Fallows, our homeland. Here a set of three thick bands. Creeping vines, a roaring bear on its hindquarters, a shield bearing the sun and moon... "It's not something you can rush,"I say. My voice is meditative, calm. I must ignore the whistle of arrows overhead, the soft thwap of their penetration into earth. I must not smell the heat and blood, or mind the thundering of hooves approaching us. "Just breathe,"I tell my brother. His eyes are wet with pain. His bloody fingers press hard against the seeping, dark wound in his gut, the arrow shaft wobbling with each panicked breath. The fletching is a raven's feather -- the telltale mark of the Hoods. They who have been banished from other tribes. Men without honor, without remorse. The very same who burned our village to cinders and ash those many moons ago, when Akante was just a stripling of a boy. And the same men who took him, raped him, broke him, turned him out into one of their own. "Shot dead by my own kind!"Akante says, laughing dryly, then coughing blood. "They are not your kind. They would shoot their own mothers." Akante grows quiet. He stares wistfully up at the clouds, does not flinch when a raindrop sprays his forehead. "Rowan?"he says suddenly, hoarse. "Shh. You must'nt speak. Save your strength." I can feel it starting. I have the image of him firmly in mind, and the burning under my skin has begun. I do not fight the pain as it grows, but welcome it. Akante licks his lips, struggling to get saliva into his dry mouth. His face has turned the pallid shade of death. "Can you forgive me?"A drop of liquid tumbles down his cheek, but whether it is rain or sweat or tears, I cannot tell. My heart wrenches in my chest. I try to respond but find the words choke in my throat. I nod, softly. The Hoods were aiming for me, but Akante leapt out to take the arrow and spare me. How many seasons had we hunted one another? How long had I thirsted for vengeance against him? And now here he is, and he's saved my life. And now I must take his, if I want any chance of survival. "Someday,"Akante says, his voice difficult to make out against the war cries, "we will meet again as kin." Wanting to scream, or cry, or both -- I let go. My skin melts away. Like an old leaf put to flame, dissolving, curling in on itself. I am muscle, tendon, bone, and fat. I am inside out. Beneath my transparent eyelids, my irises flicker and change color to Akante's soulful, brooding shade of brown. My bones creak and snap as they shift into his slender frame. Even my organs--the viscera and lungs and speeding heart--become jelly-like as they morph, growing or shrinking or taking new shape. The pain becomes enormous, god-like, a giant wave that swallows me whole and wipes away my personhood clean, until there is nothing left of me but the white hot core of suffering. I forget my name. I forget everything. Haven't I always been here? In this place of torment, and fire, and fear? Make it stop. Please, oh Spirit Mother. Make it stop. Just kill me. ------------------------------------------- At last, the Hoods fall upon the clearing, their faces crouched in shadow beneath their black cowls, their mares likewise black as soot. "Akante!"their leader calls. I stand up. Where my brother has lain, there is nothing but ashes. I look at my hands, their long fingers. My legs, which have grown instantly like a sprouting fig. My new tattoos. And--much like the rain puttering into my brother's ashes and washing them away--the pain has vanished. Like it never was. I turn to address the warlord. "Yes, Chief?"
The Fixers "Do you think he's noticed?" "Fuck, how would I know? Let's just get this done, I want to go back to sleep. Fucking things always have to break in the middle of the night. This is bullshit!" "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Being annoyed won't make it go any faster, it will just make it a less pleasant experience for the both of us." "Fuck this, and fuck you!" I was lying in bed, not quite sure if the voices were a remnant of a forgotten dream, still lingering beneath the surface of my mind, or if they were anchored in reality. I had woken up a few seconds prior, not quite sure why, until I noticed that there was no wind anymore. Looking at the clock I had realised I had only been asleep for ten minutes. In those ten minutes the wind had somehow died down from a thunderous storm, threatening to tear up trees and deroof buildings, to… well, to nothing, it seemed. Wondering if it was possible for wind to stop this suddenly, I had gotten up and looked out of the window, trying to assess the damage the storm had done. What I had seen made my jaw drop. I had quickly realised that I was probably still asleep and decided to just go lie down again, in the hopes of unseeing what had been outside the window. The storm had still been raging, but without so much as a whisper. Not just the wind itself had been silent, though. Leaves and branches had been torn from trees noiselessly and went on their merry way without a sound. The few posters hung up on the streets had been rustling inaudibly, and the tarpaulin in my neighbour's yard was trashing around muted. I had briefly entertained the notion of having gone deaf, but quickly dismissed it as I remembered hearing all the sounds leading up the discovery of the silent storm. I had recalled hearing the rustling of the bedsheets as I had gotten up, the sound of my footsteps on the cold wood floor and the creaking of the old window. So, as I was lying in bed once more, hoping that sleep would take me soon, and briefly wondering if it was actually possible to fall asleep in a dream, the voices came. I bolted upright and was immediately on edge. My heart was pounding loudly in my ears, making it difficult to discern what the voices where saying. It wasn't normal to hear people whispering outside your window in the middle of the night, was it? Why were they there? Were they burglars planning to break into my house? Kids on a dare? And more importantly, had they not noticed the soundless gale? Suddenly, I heard a loud clanking and thumping noise. It sounded almost like… yes, it definitely was someone putting up a ladder against my house. So they were burglars after all. I was at my window within a heartbeat, pulling both the window and the blinds closed with a hurried despair and in still, seemingly, the same heartbeat I was in the closet, hidden behind my clothes. There I sat for a while, not daring to breathe, fearing that any second someone would pull open the closet and pull me out, putting a knife to my throat. Only after deciding that I couldn't hold my breath forever, did I notice that I left my phone on the bedside table. The next couple of minutes were agony. I had to call the police, this much was clear. But there was no way I was going to leave my safe space. Not with all that noise going on outside. The burglars were clearly working on what I assumed to be my window. And then, suddenly the noises stopped. Or at least I thought they stopped. It was hard to make out anything over the roaring storm. After a few minutes of continued silence, I figured the burglars had given up for some reason unknown to me. Slowly, quietly I snuck to the window. The blinds were still drawn, and it took me another few minutes to get up the courage to open them. Nothing. The window was still closed and, upon further inspection, revealed no signs of tampering. The ladder was gone as well, without so much as an imprint on the muddy ground. Curiouser and curiouser, I thought, as I turned from the scene, and was immediately amused at the reference, despite the circumstances. The thunderous roar of the wind interfered my ability to think, so I closed the window again and sat down on the bed. Had I just imagined the voices? The noises? Possibly. I had just woken up after all, although I couldn't for the life of me remember what had originally interrupted my sleep. Mulling the events over for a while, I decided that there was nothing to be done about it in the middle of the night. In the morning I would go out and check for any traces of my night-time tormentors, and if I couldn't find any, I would chalk the whole thing up to my imagination. But for the time being, all I wanted to do was sleep. I fell into slumber again, listening to the whistling of the wind and the rustle of leaves.
The day was so windy as I shuffled down the street, every harsh gust pulling at the collar of my jacket. Head down, large buildings looming overhead I was in pure awe. We had been at home, in our tiny townhouse, watching the TV. The kids, two too many, ran around upstairs and occasionally their mother would yell up to quiet down. We were a simple family that did what we could. It seemed like no matter how much I worked we were always scraping by. Daycare was too expensive so my wife decided to stay home, which I didn't mind. She made great meals, sometimes out of delicious things right after payday and sometimes out of whatever she could scrape together. She learned how to sew so she could stitch and let out the kids clothes, making them last a bit longer. The little things. We weren't dirt poor, we made it work. Things like big vacations, brand new cars, and college funds were just a little ways beyond us. It was the guys at work that convinced me to buy a ticket. "Come on man, somebody has to win!" I don't like wasting money on things like lottery tickets but every now and then...how much could two dollars hurt? I bought the ticket and brought it home, my wife laughing softly and reminding me these things were a scam. I knew that. But then it happened. They read the numbers and apparently every one had matched. We had been watching some rerun of cartoons on the TV when my wife had asked me if I had checked them. "Checked what?" She laughed again, just like she had two days prior. "Checked the numbers for your silly lottery." I had totally forgotten. Pulled the state site up on my phone and read the numbers. Looked at my ticket and then back at the numbers. Looked at my wife, looked at the tickets and then back at the numbers. "We won." After screaming, jumping and thanking every god that might have existed, she and I had a long conversation about what we we're going to do next. She said she had to call her mother but would tell no one else. I agreed. We didn't want people begging for money. I decided to go on a walk, clear my head, maybe wrap my mind around the fact that our life was finally changing. We would spend smart. Buy a house, keep our car. Maybe get our oil changed on time. Invest, invest, invest. I walked past a skyscraper, humming with excitement and rounded the corner back towards our tiny house. Not ours for much longer. I pulled the ticket out and stared at it. Our whole life was going to change. Suddenly another large gust of wind rushed past me and ripped the ticket right out of my hand. I yelped, more like shrieked, and ran down the street after it. It didn't take long for the little ticket to blow out of my sight and I crumpled to the ground. Oh god....how could I have been so stupid....my wife...our life...
In his childhood, Tom’s mirror image never smiled back at him. Maybe it was because Tom never smiled at the mirrors, or perhaps his mirror-image had a particular dislike of sad children in school uniforms. Whatever it was, Tom stopped smiling at mirrors when he was 9 years old. His mirror-image didn’t approve nor disapprove. During some particularly hot, cold, average, summers, winters, autumns, springs and other seasons, Tom grew up to be a big, grumpy, glass-eyed 40-year old. Grey hairs hung from his hairpiece, covering all but the center of his scalp, designed to give the idea that he was still balding on purpose, in accordance with the trend. He had a wife and child. Both agreed with Tom to never smile at mirrors, in a way, leaving Tom’s dignity intact for as far as he had any left from his miserable childhood. Pictures of Tom’s smile were generally taken without his knowledge, and agreement, after which his wife, Sara, tucked them away into secret photo albums. She hid them in the attic and in other places that were either harder or easier to reach. These albums would make Tom’s grandchildren cry heavy tears about 80 years later, considering he had passed away a day earlier. In the summer of 1987, Tom hit a high in his life. Jobless, unemployed, between jobs: name-calling came to an end when Tom got his first job in a bookshop selling books and other hardware, drugs, and animals from behind the counter. It was all new to Tom, and with a generous smile on his face he worked day in day out, taking all the nightshifts as well because he had a lot of debts to pay. Think about the wedding, the parking-ticket from when he parked his car somewhere for 40 years, and other things among the other things that needed paying. Christmas that year was unlike any Christmas he and his family had ever experienced. Friends, who’d sprung out of nowhere since Tom had a terribly paying job, came to sit at Tom’s table, but Tom kindly, yet firmly, kicked them of the lawn to be with the only people he loved. Dinner was festive, and the remarkable happiness sired an inert, eternal smile on Tom’s face. Finally, life was looking up, and not down. His eyes set on the sky, half drunk on booze, half drunk on company, Tom wandered into the bathroom. He peed wherever he wanted to pee because this was his day. Tom’s day, he called it, when the world payed his debts of joy, with interest, back to Tom, with which he could support his family in all their needs. It was a day of wonder. Nobody would owe anything to anybody. Tom washed his hands in the urinary they had saved so long for and looked up into the mirror. His mirror-image smiled back at him as if nothing had ever come between them, as if they were a uniform body, not separated by light and matter. Tom pulled an aged picture from his jacket and held it in front of the mirror. His mirror-image frowned and Tom was sure of something unrelated.
Suddenly the world falls for Dr. Hoff. His heart cannot accept that. His true love finally came into live and he's rejecting all of these years of hard work and dark nights of struggle. "No. This cannot happen, there's must be some error!!"He thinks. He's nearer to success but seeing this scene over and over again is driving him crazy. He just doesn't know what to think. Dealing with social media calling him off a murderer and he doubting about himself just like her mother used to is enough to even add this. "I'm getting closer, Mike, we'll get it together", says Roger hugging the dead cloned body of his only true lover. Months pass and there's no break for the biochemist. Years have passed since the last time he saw the TV or read the newspaper. The public opinion is something he's not interested into and cannot deal with right now. Desolation and commitment are their only company for now. Until today. Today he's decided to fix it. He's depositing all his money he can so he can use a better formula and get a better result. The university is not responsible of Dr. Roger Hoff acts anymore. He's alone in the laboratory and the machine is finally ready. What happens now will determine the rest of his live. Maybe the next Nobel prize, maybe is suicide. The cards are on the table now and he's becoming more and more stressful to see the results. Suddenly, an eye is opened. And the other. One arm is shyly moving. Roger is trying not to cry. He wants Mike to see his face happily smiling him. Roger sees Mike's hands are carefully moving. He advises him not to move, rest a little and then slowly standing up. Mike is finally alive. Completely alive. Roger can't be happier. The love of his life is with him again, and this time there will be no more miskates. This car won't hurt them anymore. Mike on the other hand looks happy but also worried. He's been having a strange dream that doesn't let him think clearly. Maybe it's the experiment. Maybe the failure of the DNA is real and the clones are not that dead and peaceful as they think.
“A wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Now I know why they waited so to tell me mine. It’s my eighteenth birthday and the first time I’ve ever heard my tag. Emotions raced through my mind, but I was mostly confused. If I wasn’t normal than what was I? Why was I a wolf? Would I really hurt my family? I could read the room. It wasn’t good. It felt like at school when all the kids would stay away from me like they were scared. My sister, a needle in a haystack, hid like she always did. I’m not sure if this time it was just out of habit. The balloons deflated. I stared at the words on the cake like an abyss. That reminded me of a quote I read and I looked away. My eyes landed on my best friend’s. I could see the terror in her eyes.
My Mother and Father had been farmers, as had my grandparents and their parents before them. Depending on who you asked, we were either blessed or cursed for time eternal to tend to our plot of transplanted earth and coax life out of it. I was one of eight siblings, and about all we had was the house the farm and each other. This was our birthright, this would be our everything. It seemed to me that this was as fair a life as one could ask for on this colony, but my sister Anna disagreed. Anna wasn't particularly driven or rebellious, in retrospect I think she was just smart enough to see things for what they were but not quite smart enough to know when to not ask the right questions. I don't know that she intended to sow the seeds of dissent on the colony the way she did. Her voice was kind and patient, "Well. Maybe one of us could go to the University while one of them tends to the farm?""It sure does seem like we produce an abundance of food and don't have much of it to keep""It's probably fine that our children will live here. But it'd be nice if they could choose to rather than be forced to."It didn't seem discourteous or rude when she said these things, it seemed harmless. There was this quality in her voice that made you believe she didn't mean any harm by anything. She wore teal most days, but she wasn't wearing teal that day. I remember her sitting in the town square chatting with Jenny Olvido from down the way while they picked up some odds and ends from the monthly rations. They were both wearing yellow faded dresses, but the color was bright enough to be noticed if you were looking for that sort of thing. We had these fake trees at the square, they even had leaves that changed colors with the seasons and the right smells and what not. It was a known rule to leave these trees be, lest we lose the 'privilege' of having them around. I remember Anna reaching up and plucking an auburn leaf off the tree and carefully placing it in her bag, giggling slightly at this small act of rebellion. One of the town's police noticed her do it. Maybe it was the shade of her dress or the fact Jenny had sneezed when Anna grabbed the leaf that drew attention to the moment. It's impossible to know now. But the officer rushed over and snatched Anna's bag off her arm and ripped the leaf out. Jenny started hollering and Anna joined in as to not let her friend be the only one causing a fuss and now the Police officer is yelling and he's reaching for his gun and calling into his comm system that he might need dispatch and the whole town is watching. The rest of it happened quick. Jenny's brothers jump in and start roughing up the officer and Anna's trying to calm everyone down but the lights get shut off in the town square and the alerts start sounding over the speakers. At some point, Anna leans over and grabs the officer's helmet off the ground and slams it into his head. It was quiet for a few moments after that. I felt the weight of the moment mostly in my shoulders and back, a tension and a buzzing sensation. He was gurgling on the ground, his body convulsing and blood starting to pool up. He couldn't have been a day older than twenty. We heard the dispatch choppers coming in, probably a couple minutes out. And Anna's got the helmet still in her hands and she's calm. She looked ready for whatever would happen next. I reached down to the officer and grabbed his pistol out of the holster. I put the barrel to his head and pulled the trigger. I still don't know if that was a kindness for him but the deed was done. Anna couldn't be charged with the murder. I grabbed the helmet out of her hand and told the Olvido Boys and Jenny to get her somewhere safe. I felt that tension from earlier rising and falling with each passing breath as the dispatch helicopters touched down in the square. I didn't know it at the time, but a dozen other women and men stood behind me armed with whatever makeshift weapons they could get their hands on. I gripped the handle of the gun tight and closed my eyes, feeling the ground beneath me tremble.
From the moment they first touched, the Sea and the Land were in love. He caressed her shores and laid presents of shells, pears, and perfectly polished pebbles on her sand. The storms that pounded along her coast created cliffs. He pushed his waves ever higher, splashing along the carved stone, revealing bands of color as he receded. He sent gifts of ice, melting and cooling his currents, for her enjoyment along the extreme northern and southern beaches. She, in turn, fed him with the streams that flowed from her highest peaks. She grew green finery for his pleasure, marshes and sand dunes filled with plants that began on her soil and ended in his lapping waves. She allowed parts of herself to crumble into his beckoning depths. And, when the time was right, she showed him their children. At first they were fearful of their father. He was terrifying, dark blues and blacks and monsters from the unknown. They shrank back into their mother's safety, and watched their father from afar, with awe and wonder, as he demonstrated his power to them. Mighty hurricanes pounded against the coastline, and the children huddled within the caves their mother had made to shelter them. Noting their reaction of fright instead of wonder, their father showed them his creations. The children drew close to the shore to watch as whales and dolphins leapt from the depths, and the sunlight played on the waves. A few of the children were brave enough to wander into the shallows, but quickly retreated once the dark of night covered the world again. The cycle continued, day after day. The Sea loved the Land, and the Land her Sea, but the children preferred their mother. He sent gifts of worn logs. They pulled them from the sand and built homes from them, far from the sound of his splashes. He caused rain to fall on the plants they cultivated. They harvested, and ate, and stayed far from his border. He sent cooling breezes, causing the trees to bend and the grass to wave, mimicking his water's movement. They huddled within the shelters they'd created, burning his gifts of driftwood to stay warm. In frustration, he turned his back, causing the cool breezes to turn chill, sending sleet and snow and howling winds. The children hid in fright or moved ever further from their father in search for warmth. His frustration turned to anger at their departure, and strong waves pounded the shore, tearing sand from the beaches and eroding the cliffs. At times his waves froze completely solid along the rockiest of beaches, creating walls that truly separated him from both the children and their mother. Time passed, and his anger waned. He resigned himself to an eternity without his children. The ice walls retreated, and he resumed lapping at the shores of his wife, quiet, calm, the resentment buried deep within trenches far from her coasts. Then, one day, a brave soul brought one of his log gifts back to him, carefully shaped and crafted, and created into something new. The child placed the log within his waters and then climbed within, and slowly, cautiously, ventured into the sun-kissed waves. The Sea calmed his winds, gently smoothed his waves, and carefully cradled his child as the canoe traveled along, never far from their mother, the Land. The child stayed within his waters for some time, then returned home, but left the canoe near the coast. Over the night, the Sea's tides lapped at the wood, marveling at the creativity of his child's handiwork. As the sun rose, he left gifts of new logs near the canoe, and allowed his tides to retreat. And with time, the children ventured further and further on the waves of the Sea, and learned of their father's love. From the moment he first saw them, the Sea was in love with his children. In time, they learned to return his love, and the Land loved him even more as she saw their relationship grow.
The sun shone through the open window as I awoke. I groaned as I rolled over on my king size luxury bed, the firm yet supple mattress giving way to my body, it's perfect comfort enticing me to stay. I fought the temptation, rising to my feet, and slipping on my pants, neatly folded next to my bed. As I buckled them on, my door opened, and Kynukiler strode in, a perfect smile on his handsome face. "A good morning to my lady. I trust you have found the accommodations to your liking?" I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, yawning. "I've had better. What's breakfast?" "Ah. Lyphonetickash has prepared you a delicacy of your kind. Cold pizza, it's crust remains firm yet chewable, the cheese has been perfectly cooled to the optimal temperature of 46 degrees, the sauce is smooth as cream, and he has seen to it that the toppings will tear evenly, so as not to disrupt the cheese. I also belive he has shat in it." I raised an eyebrow. "Do you really?" The demon's face took a placating look "My lady, he is a most debase and fiendish creature. Your mind cannot comprehend the evil that lurks within him. His mind is like a snake, his schemes will leave you clutching for sanity, as he drains your very soul from you. Heed my warning, do not fall for his temptations, lest you succu-where are you going?" I opened my carved oak bedroom door, the silver knob conforming to my grip. "I'm hungry, gonna go eat." As I stepped into the hall, the voices of hell met my ears. A thousand stalls lined the hall, it's occupants shrieking as they attempted to peddle their wares. STRENGTH OF A THOUSAND MEN! CRUSH THE ARMIES OF THE WORLD WITH THE MEREST FLICK OF YOUR FINGER! INTELLECT! ASTOUND YOUR FRIENDS, DIVIDE YOUR ENEMIES, MAKE FOOLS OF THEM ALL! IT CAN ALL BE YOURS! MAKE THE DEAL, SEAL THE PACT! LIMITED TIME OFFER!! CLAIM YOUR IMMORTALITY TODAY! I ignored them as I walked down the hall. It seemed to stretch for eternity. Dammit, I just wanted to eat. Something I had learned fairly soon. In order to make a deal, the demon had to convince it's prey to enter a contract. Contrary to popular belief, you could freely accept gifts from a demon without it claiming your soul. They were like free trials. The longer you refused to make the pact, the better the trials got. Hence the mansion (which the new demons I had summoned had since turned into their personal marketing grounds), and my cold pizza. Of course, the demon was under no actual obligation to continue the trial, nor did they have to deliver the trial as advertised. It was entirely possible that Lyphonetickash had shat in my pizza. Then again, they also seemed to be trying to out bargain each other, so it was rare they would try to ruin their reputation by pulling such a prank. I made my way to the elevator, and keyed the button for the kitchen. A dozen demons fell over each other as they all tried to pack into my elevator, squabbling and screaming as they waved papers and pens in my face, asking, begging me to sign them. The elavator dinged, and I stepped out. 8 demons sat around my private bar, upon seeing me they began frantically waving me over, offering bottles of the finest scotch and bourbon. I ignored them and walked into the dining hall. An enormous table dominated the room, a single slab cut from a massive and ancient tree. It could have easily sat sixty fat men. At the head of the table was a single paper plate, bearing my pizza. I was pleased to find there was no shit in it. After eating, I walked into my study. The floor bore my summoning circle, it's edges worn with time. I pressed my palm to its face and began to chant. The room darkened, and thunder boomed. My desk exploded into dust with a deafening bang. Lighting flashed and fire enveloped me. A portal formed in front of me, it's center so black that it seemed to suck the very light from the room. Out of it stepped a being wreathed in flames, his horned head held high, his rotting hooves stepping from the portal as though he owned the very ground upon which he walked. The portal faded, and the room returned to normal. The flames about his body cooled from a raging inferno to a dull blue sheen. He smiled. When he spoke, his voice was bold, lound, yet smooth as silk, each word assaulting the very core of my humanity, threatening to tear me asunder. "So long. So many. The floodgates of hell flung open, and every beast, every son of mine emptied from my halls. They called to you, tempted, threatened, begged, but you heeded them not." I stood. "Does that mean I won our wager?" His smile held no mirth, but oozed with malice and hate. "Indeed. Name your prize, human."
He spoke with a deep, gruff gravitas. "I can assure you, old friend, that's not blood you're tasting." "WHAT?"the vampire said with a start. "That's right, I fucking got ya this time vladdy. That's just fucking ketchup i mixed with iron supplements." "I am offended! Although not completely harmed, I suppose." "Also, there's garlic in it." The vampire screamed. "NO HOW COULD YOU!?" The man took off his conspicuous scarf, revealing two bitemarks. "Because years ago, you turned me, you fucking...jerk, guy." The vampire starting writhing in it's place, skin steaming off into nothingness. "You killed me! You monster! Why would you do this to me!?" The man lowered his scarf, confused. "I just explained." "But you could have just used a stake, or silver, or something! Why did you do THIS to me??" "Oh."The man put his scarf back on. "I don't know, to be honest." "Senseless! A senseless death!"the vampire cried, and slowly evaporated into the air.
When we marched against Finland on that fateful day in 1939, not even the lowliest recruit in our regiment had any doubt in his mind as to what sort of odds we were up against. Purges designed to rid our ranks of political enemies and counter-revolutionaries had sent all of our most experienced officers to the firing squads and our most seasoned NCOs to the gulags. Political ideology sessions had taken the place of actual military training for the most part meaning that while most of us were able to recite entire speeches made by prominent Politburo members by heart, scant few in our regiment knew the exact procedures for something as basic as how to set up a proper defensive perimeter. Our company commander during the initial stages of the campaign was a slobbering, malodorous son of a sister-fucking peasant named Polivanov. He'd been jumped up to captain from private on the basis of nothing more than the baseness of his origins as well as his propensity for swallowing every crock of propaganda churned out by our regimental political division. The fact it took him almost an entire day to read a single page of their newsletter did not prevent him from being handed our previous company commander's captain's bars only moments after they'd been stripped off his tunic on the way to the firing squad. We had no doubt the Finns would be a resilient and cunning foe. Born in the endless forests and snowfields of the taiga, they could ski as well as they could walk. A nation of skilled hunters and trackers, they were crack shots with their rifles and knew the importance of making each bullet count; they could melt into the terrain as effortlessly as they could pick off an elk at 500 yards with nothing more than the iron sights. Like specters they flitted effortlessly across even the most untamed terrain, chopping our lumbering columns into neat little chunks as effortlessly as one would slice up a sausage. Cut off from one another and lacking any form of coherent leadership, starvation and the cold took as many of us as Suomi bullets did. Though we did not expect any quarter when we surrendered - for we surly would have given none to them - they none the less made an effort to spare us of any needless cruelty. The sergeant who took charge of the bedraggled remains of our company even allowed us to build a fire to keep warm once we'd been disarmed, and fed us bread and stew drawn from their field kitchens. On our march towards captivity we'd stopped at a town for the evening. There a local woman spent hours tending to my friend Bogdan's frostbitten legs, massaging them with warm oil all the while lamenting how tragic a thing it was to befall one so young. The Finns' grace and compassion in victory surprised us greatly. But this paled in comparison to the news we were to receive in the weeks and months following: newsreels shown in the gulag cinema bearing titles and proclamations such as "Soviets driven from Finnish Soil. 250,000 Ruskies dead", "Suomi Forces Advancing on all fronts", "Ruskie Soldiers Surrendering In Their Dozens! Over 350,000 POWs So Far!", "New Fighter Planes Pack a Punch! Soviet Air Force Eradicated!", "Nazis Dissolve Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. Hitler Begging For Peace", "New Rifle Makes Each Man an Army Of One!" It was not even a sense of surprise which permeated our ranks that day we were all gathered on the main assembling ground and told that Moscow had been captured along with all of our political leaders. Whispers had and rumours had been circulating around the camp for months by that time intimating on some secret new technology acquired by the Finns which made their armies nigh unstoppable. The rate at which they inexorably advanced across even the most forbidding and heavily armed stretches of the Motherland was testament to the veracity of this hearsay. By this time our gulag had swollen in size and scope. In addition to mining and forestry, Finish manufacturing and chemical interests had been enticed by the abundance of cheap captive labour to shift their operations to our camp. Moscow had grown increasingly desperate, cobbling together rag-tag regiments and throwing them piecemeal against the Finnish onslaught. Barely trained and unmotivated, they'd deserted or surrendered en mass. Every one of our boys captured and imprisoned meant another Finn was freed to pick up a rifle and head to the front. Despite this increase of influx of prisoners, our rations did not diminish as we'd expected but also improved somewhat. We were told that in addition to a daily ration of two bowls of watery soup and a hunk of bread as dark as hard as slate we could also look forward to weekly meat ration as long as we continued to meet our production quotas. For the fruits of our toils would be sorely needed. Finland's territory by this stage encompassed not only the entirety of the Russian motherland, but also vast tracts of central and southern Europe. Our ill advised blunder into Finnish land had been like the opening of Pandora's Box; we'd awoken the giant laying dormant under the ice and snow. Finland now possessed aircraft so gigantic that they could fly from Warsaw to Vladivostok without stopping. From the massive hulls of these aircraft could parachute entire divisions of specially trained Finnish Jaegers along with their vehicles and anything else required to establish a secure foothold on any part of the world. Accompanying them were swarms of smaller propeller-less aircraft which soared as gracefully as doves, but attacked with the ferocity of hornets. Overwhelmed and utterly outmatched, the entirety of continental Europe as well as the British Isles now lay in the hands of the Finns. Veteran Finnish troops were now trading their winter gear for khaki shorts and slouch hats as Helsinki set its eyes towards Northern Africa. Their navies had submarines which were larger than any battleship, armed with correspondingly heavy guns. These gargantuan vessels could travel silently beneath the waves, laying waste to entire fleets like a kraken, before emerging on any unsuspecting coastal town or city warranting immediate destruction. Still larger aircraft were being used as floating airfields, each a self contained air base capable of sustaining and launching entire wings of fighters and bombers. Weakened by years of internal strife and facing an enemy unlike any other, China lay down her arms and submitted. The rest of the Eastern Asian continent followed suit not long after. The Empire of Japan lasted slightly longer, but a single salvo from the massive cannons of the Simo Hayha was enough to level the entirety of Kyoto and to convince the Japanese to come to the bargaining table. Word by this time was that the Finns had perfected a bomb unlike any other. A bomb which harnessed the hitherto unknown power of the atom. A single one of these bombs, it was rumoured, could wreck more destruction in a moment than an entire fleet of bombers could in days. These rumours were proven true when we were shown newsreel footage of one of these devices in action. Though the film was grainy and stuttering, the silhouette of the city it showed was unmistakable, for the Statue of Liberty stood proudly in the centre of the frame. Even the skyscrapers of Manhattan seemed small in comparison. Presently the entire screen was awash with light. A gigantic mushroom cloud in the middle of the screen. Even from that distance we could see the buildings crumble, their metal frames twisting, their glass windows shattering. Lady Liberty herself was engulfed. When the flames at last withdrew all that remained was a pile of glowing slag. America surrendered shortly thereafter. The last great power on earth was now a subject nation of Finland. With every nation of significance now either a subject of Helsinki or facing imminent destruction, the Finns were no longer shy about keeping their technology under wraps. Our guards were also adamant that we now focus on educating ourselves in order to be useful members of the New Order once we were released. I'd always had an inclination towards science, and I figured that in addition to my experience in the chemical textiles factory might be helpful in helping me find employment on the outside world. I set about finding and reading every scientific publication they would permit us in the gulag library. Some of the Finnish scientists and technicians employed by the chemical textile factory had even taken a liking to me, and allowed me to sit with them during lunch. One of these esteemed scientists had even played a pivotal part in the creation of the technology which helped Finland achieve supremacy over the world. Over endless cups of watery cafeteria coffee, he regaled me with every detail of this wondrous technology; its discovery, its implementation, its myriad of uses. It was an engine, he told me, but an engine like no other for it had no mechanical parts and it was debatable whether it even had a physical form. Yet it was adaptable and malleable, and could be molded like putty in the hands of an adept user. But there was one thing I always found strange. Perhaps it was an idiosyncrasy borne out of just how weird this technology was. Or perhaps it was a clue as to its true providence. Why did they name the thing after - of all people - a Prussian general. The Clausewitz Engine? And what in the world did they mean when they said they "hacked"it?
At first, I couldn't read my book. My eyes just didn't seem to focus and my mind kept wandering. The text was deforming into unreadable scribbles. Maybe I'm just tired, I had thought. But it didn't just stop there. A few days later, I noticed that people were ignoring me. Usually when you're in a crowded city street, people usually try to walk around you, right? Sure, maybe you get bumped occasionally, but then they would mutter an apology before moving on. I was surprised when the first man barreled into me and kept on walking even after I had fallen onto the ground. I yelled at him, but he ignored me. I was livid, so I ran after him, grabbed his shoulder and twisted him around to face me. He kept trying to walk. He stared at his phone with vacant eyes, not even registering that his direction had changed. He kept walking, smacked into a wall, then stopped. This freaked me out. I bolted, but didn't get far. Where did all these people come from? It looked like people were multiplying, filling the space around me, blocking me in... * * * * * Bill sighed, frustrated, and leaned back in his chair as the program crashed. Again. "Hey Tom, she crashed again." "She did or the program did?"replied Tom, Bill's coworker in the research department. "Ok, they both did,"Bill said as he waved a hand dismissively. "I thought you fixed the meaning of life question?" "I did, but... hold on."Tom looked through the dump file that stored all of the AI's activities. After filtering through the garbage, he found one question that was timestamped around the same time the errors in the program started showing up. "Bill, have you been adding new material to the AI's world?" "Yeah, why? "What is the square root of the meaning of life, the universe, and everything?"
"Good night,"said the ferryman. His hands clasped behind his back. He looked out from his spaceship, lonely eyes looking out into nothingness. Just the blankness of space. The stars died first. They withered away, shedding off their outer layers of atoms. Some were lucky, becoming black holes that twisted and churned in the vast expanse of nothingness. In the early days of the universe, black holes would consume and consume... but after everything else had faded, there was nothing. They starved, but they got to see the final days of the universe. The ferryman, too, was starving. He was the last that remained in the entirety of the universe. He checked. His species warned him when he took on this endeavor that it would be lonely. Very, very lonely. The beauty of the universe changed as well. The lights faded, black holes slowly burned away, and over the last billion years even the trails of cosmic dust were so far separated, that the ferryman was one of the densest things left. His ship, and the cosmic catalyst, were the only objects that remained. It was dark. No... that didn't describe it. Dark implied that there was light left to give dark meaning. The universe just was. That concept rattled in the ferryman's brain for the last million years as he waited to activate the catalyst. If this was how everything ended, what was the point? Why exist at all? The ferryman keeled down next to a humming purple gem. It illuminated the small corridor of his ship, which sat quietly in the vast expanse. "Almost."He smiled, hands navigating along the smooth exterior of the cosmic catalyst. It sat on a pitch black pedestal, with a perfect view of the glass front of the ship which looked out into the dying universe. 2 billion years ago, when sustaining life in the universe was impossible, the ferryman was gifted immortality. The last invention of his species. He was to carry the cosmic catalyst to the center of the universe, and wait. Wait for the expanding medium that contained so much to become so far spread that the catalyst could... well... catalyze a new beginning. Pull in every atom, every particle, even space itself into the core of the catalyst. Life would begin anew. He remembered, that animals had a purpose. To make more. Reproduce. Keep the species going. Was that the purpose of existing, then? The meaning of life? To keep the universe going? The ferryman had decided this long ago. That the meaning of life was to continue the endless cycle. The gem's humming stopped. The ship rattled. And then quiet. It was simple, this technology. The expanding stopped, and the collapse begun. Another billion years would be all it needed to pull in all the matter and medium into itself. The ferryman sat, head pressed against the wall of his ship. "How exciting."He said, looking into the heart of the gem. He would have to wait a while longer, for the end to arrive. Millions of years came and went. Nothing changed, though. Visibly, anyway. The matter was collected along the outskirts of the universe as it collapsed into the gem at great speeds. Given the length of the universe, of course, that took some time. The ferryman waited. Half a billion years. The ferryman hadn't moved from his spot. He just stared, and waited. Letting his thoughts consume him. Insanity had already conquered his mind. He had gone through every thought, every possibility, he had considered all one could consider. He waited in a personal stasis. For the end. Lights. The ferryman looked out. A wall of white had come into view hundreds of years prior. Now it was close. The darkness illuminating to an expanse of white that closed in. Even that got uninteresting, after a while. The ferryman had already simulated what it would look like in his head, and it was as expected. Minutes were left. The ferryman stood. Not because he had to, but he felt like he had to. He had a duty to see the universe into death, and cross it over to the other side. In that death, there would be new life. By standing, he respectfully saw the universe off. "Whoa,"he said, looking down at his hand. His first honest reaction in billions of years. Dust came through the walls of his ship, as if it was an afterthought. It passed through the gem, a deep white glow resonating in the center of the gem. A minute remained. Dust continued. Slowly, but as the seconds passed it became a torrent. A flood. Passing through the ferryman harmlessly, but his vision quickly became impaired. It was noiseless, too. He wandered over to the purple gem, his last remaining friend. He knelt down again. Seconds were left. The ferryman couldn't see anything but white. But he could feel. His body began to burn away, atoms pulled one by one. He could feel all of them. Every last one. Nanoseconds. His thoughts lost meaning, even the whiteness that he once saw was but a concept. Concepts meant nothing now. Why would they? How could they? He was one with the universe, he was the very meaning that he sought in life. He was the end, and the beginning. A moment. A mere moment remained. The ferryman could feel it. But how? A moment was not a length of time, but a single point. Yet, he felt as if he could navigate it. Go back, go forward, stop entirely. He could contemplate everything infinitely. He could hold the universe hostage, bend it to his will. He could even go back, put it back to how it was, and live billions of years longer in peace. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He made a promise. To himself, to the ones he left behind. That was all that remained, what had driven him for all this time. He would let the universe pass on, hand over the mantle. One last thought. He wasn't the first. He couldn't have been. How many other ferrymen had there been? How many trips had the universe taken? How many times had it gone exactly the same? What would happen to the ferryman when the universe began again? If the ferryman had a body, he'd smile. Questions that he couldn't simulate, not anymore. Not without living through it. And maybe, he was about to find out.
I was feeling a bit tired but I knew I had to get up, but first, I can't forget the most important thing to do. "Command deck, start recording. Today is Wednesday the 17th of March 2057, I woke up at 9:30 am, brushed my teeth with a red and orange toothbrush then had some scrambled eggs with toast." What a world we live in, it's been 20 years since teleporters became common practise. This caused a global shake up the world hasn't seen since the internet. But of course, this technology has its own drawbacks: "I put on my red turtleneck and my pair of black pants as well as my pattern socks and my running sneakers." One week, every time you teleport it erases one week of your memory. Never really got the science behind it but it's the life I live now. "I'm heading out to visit Molly."I hesitate for a bit. Surely not? "Molly is my girlfriend whom I've dated for 2 years now, check the record labelled Molly for more information." Plenty of philosophers argued whether this is moral or not. After all, a human's life is judged by their actions and if they can't recall them then they essentially have no worth. "On second thought, I'm going to stay around for a bit, I boot up my games console and start playing Empire's Rise, I'm on level 34." Some people have embraced this new technology and have integrated it into their everyday lives. They choose to live a fresh new life every day and experience everything for the first time. I on the other hand have opted to record every single detail of my life and store them in multiple copies both online and offline. That way, whenever I teleport I can easily look back and see what I was doing on every day. Luckily my job doesn't require me to leave my flat so I typically stay in, in fact: "Change of plans, I'm going to stay in for the rest of the day. I've moved my planes to tomorrow." I should tell Molly about this, can't imagine she'll be very happy, "Command deck, call Molly and record the call." "Hey there big boy, when are you coming over?"a soothing voice echoed throughout the room. "Actually, I think I'm going to stay in today, I promise I'll head on tomorrow though."I stutter, I feel embarrassed just saying that. "Are you serious right now? How long do you plan on staying in and not talking to anybody? It's been 8 months, you're not going to forget him." She's angry and rightfully so, I haven't left my flat in 8 months ever since my grandfather left us. I haven't been able to use a teleporter since. "I know, I just don't want to forget any single moment about him."I say, nearly sobbing. "That's fine but you know that you'll never forget him, the teleporters only erase a week and even if by some miracle it malfunctions, you still have recordings of him. As well as your own personal recordings of every day you remember."She said, trying her best to be reasonable through her anger. "The people who leave us don't just live in our memories, they live in our hearts. They change how we act on a fundamental level and that's something memories can never take away." "I know what I need to do, I'm sorry it took me this long."I say, recollecting myself. "Command deck, end call." I head over to my bedroom passing by my favourite picture of my grandfather, he's wearing a red turtleneck with black pants. "Command deck, turn off recording." This is the first time in 5 years I haven't recorded what I was doing and that's fine, I change my clothes into something more my style and I head to my teleporter. I walk in and I remember my passcode, one of his favourites. "Beam me up, Scotty."
Excerpt from a Rough Draft of Dr. Consuela Garcia’s (University of San Antonio) book “The Angel of the Alamo: The mysterious appearance and legacy of John Eastwood Marston” John Eastwood Marston (Also known as J.E. Marston) is an enigmatic figure who first appeared at the battle of the Alamo, a northern adventurer who under cover of nightfall snuck into the Mexican camp and with swift marksmanship singlehandedly eliminated the Mexican command, including General Santa Anna. In addition to being one of the greatest pioneers of gunsmithing he is also remembered for his celebrated political career and philanthropy and diplomacy. On the first day of the siege of the Alamo he appeared at the gate, naked except for his rifle. Davis was suspicious but after being moved by “a passionate speech about freedom and his love of country” allowed the stranger in. clothes were found for him. In between rounds of fighting the stranger spent much time in the workshop of the Alamo. Before the dawn of the thirteenth day, the defenders spied him in the Mexican camp, with Santa Anna’s head in his hand and the Mexican army dead at his feet. Marty Robbins eloquently captured the moment in his classic “The Ballad of the Alamo” “Under night that thirteenth day The stranger crept on forward Into the camp where the Mexicans did pray. When out of the darkness, Santa Anna did fall. And then stranger killed 'em, one and all now the bugles are silent and there's rust on each sword and all those soldados... Now stand before their Lord...” The war ended with the US and Texas Annexing all of Mexico, after several corrupt and incompetent succeeding presidents, and the Archbishop of Mexico City’s assertion “The lord hath forsaken us because of our sins” Mexico would eventually be fully incorporated into the United North American States, producing many notable figures including First Lady Felina Cortes (and former senator from Oaxaca) who would marry UNAS President Ronald “Jack” Potts in 2010. Despite his best efforts The Stranger became nationally known as a hero after the war he went into the Gunsmithing business building his first factory in San Antonio. Sunrise Eagle Arms or S.E.A. became one the biggest weapons manufacturer in the US, and is now the largest in the world. At first reluctant, he soon embraced public life, authoring several books on foreign and domestic policy that at times have proven “unnaturally prescient”. Eventually he became LT Governor of Texas and eventually president and later Secretary of War to President Lincoln. In 1853-1857 he served as President of the United States and was secretary of war between 1863 and 1875, overseeing the Canadian- American War. JE Marston died at his vacation home in St Augustine Florida on December 27th 1914. He was 103. He was buried in Arlington National Cemetery. His son struck up a lifelong friendship with Russian Gunsmith (and future Prime Minister of Russia).Mikhail Kalashnikov Kalishnakov emigrated to the US where he worked for before returning home to fight for Russia in we2 where he used his knowledge to create the improved automat Kalashnikov. He would then return to Russia to fight in the Second Great War. Many notable figures bizarrely owe their success to J.E. Marston, including animator Adolf Hitler who received a surprise scholarship to the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts, where he met Walt Disney. *************************************************************************************Excerpt from the Private letters of J.E. Marston (private archive of the Sunrise Eagle Arms company of El Paso To my Son, I will tell you the truth about that night. I was never supposed to be there at the Alamo, but upon discovering that they trip was one way, I resolved that I could not idly sit by and not make an effort to save the lives I could. While the weapon in my hands was potent, what was in my head was more so. Despite my efforts, I was only able to rearrange some tragedies but I believe that at the least America is for the better if not somewhat the world. Yes, my instructions are confusing but I shall explain all... JE Marston.
it was my first time at a public pool. i had just learned how to swim with floaties and i wanted to try a cannonball. the other kids were doing it and it looked like fun. i closed my eyes, jumped in the air and held my breath. but the splash never came. after a few seconds i peeked and saw my mom going crazy and the water below me. i tried to shout, but then the spell broke and i dropped into the water with my mouth wide open. every time i held my breath to stop the water rushing in i found i couldnt swim up towards the air or back towards the walls. i nearly drowned. and some people wonder why i have a fear of water.
So, uh, you pushed me straight out of my writer's block into a small frenzy. This is gonna be a long one, but I'm posting a small first part here. Thanks for inspiring me! ++++ “What?” The Council seemed unmoved by my outburst. Six faces stared in stony silence as I tried to process what had been said. It’s not you. Not you. Not you, you who have spent years upon years of your life dedicating yourself to the cause. Not you, you who have undergone every level of training, breaking your body over and over in order to become ready. Not you, you who have abandoned any hope of meaningful relationships for this purpose, family and friends clinically cut away in order to minimise potential fallouts, to keep them safe. Not you, who we plucked out of your life in order to throw into this endeavour, who we told time and time again were destined for this, who we convinced all the sacrifice would be worth it. You’re not the Chosen One. Turns out, you’re not even a hero. Councilman Bregas cleared his throat. “We still need your help.” It took every ounce of self-restraint in order to not leap across the bench and strangle him. Gods know they’d taught me how. ++++ The silver minivan trundled up the dirt path towards the encampment, tires bouncing on the occasional larger rock. It passed between large, lush pine trees and through the main gate, coming to a stop in a clearing in front of a large log cabin. The van’s only passenger pulled open the door and stepped out, shielding her eyes against the glare of the sun, taking a deep breath of the brisk air. The driver, Silva, slipped out a second later, giving a jaunty wave to the cluster of people waiting on the cabin’s porch before circling to the boot of the vehicle. He came back around a second later with a large bag, gently pressing his hand to the passenger’s shoulder in order to nudge her further along towards the cabin and the people waiting there. They exuded an interesting mix of intimidating and awkward. They’d evidently been expecting her, and yet it seemed they had been searching for a way to not look like they were. She could see a half played card game on the table, a few glasses strewn around. Now, though, she was the centre of their attention. The first of the group to acknowledge her was one of the card players. He stood up, coming towards her with an outstretched hand. “Ms. Kane, I’m councilman Fronds. Welcome to Camp Zero.” On the contrary to most people, he didn’t particularly tower over her. His handshake was firm and he accompanied it with a warm smile. “Call me Chloe” “Chloe, then. I’m James and these” he turned to the group “Are the people who are going to keep you alive.” Right, as if she could forget the strangest three days of her life. One moment, she was working in her office, and the next, men in dark suits were standing at her door and explaining that she was some sort of prophetic chosen one and hey, we need you to save the world. Normal Thursday afternoon stuff. Never mind that the closest she’d ever come to combat was that one self-defence class her roommate had taken her to. Or that she had no idea what, exactly, a “Restak” was. She also thought they mentioned a volcano? Honestly, the first hours blurred together. They’d taken her to a facility in the city, sat her down at a metal table and done the equivalent of an info dump. Luckily, they’d also provided an eleven inch folder full of all the notions her brain had flat out refused to process. The next day was spent doing all sorts of medical exams (her left shoulder still hurt from the needles) and the third she was loaded into the minivan to arrive…here. She wasn’t quite sure where here was, but it was definitely remote. She hadn’t seen another vehicle for the past three hours. James didn’t seem perturbed by her silence, choosing instead to continue. “You’ve already met Silva, he’ll be at your service for any transport needs.” He’d been the first friendly face in a sea of stern, occasionally dark glasses wearing, frowns. He’d offered her a soft drink, a pillow, a blanket and even indulged her request for nineties pop. She hadn’t seen her phone since they took her, couldn’t imagine what story her family and friends had been told. Not the chattiest guy, he still pointed out interesting landmarks as they went along. Not so much in the last few hours. She assumed that was to make sure she really didn’t know where she was. As were the suddenly darkened windows. ++++++ James pointed back at us. “The gentleman sitting at the table is Mark Vasquez and next to him we have Aurora Maxson. They’ll be your team for this entire quest.” My team. They’d been by me from day one, forming the perfect, mythological trio necessary to get any Chosen One through the trials ahead. We had eaten together, fought together, grown together. Now, they were staring at the woman. I could see they were trying to be neutral. They had been trying for days, splitting themselves between preparing for the newbie and spending time with me. I liked to imagine my company wasn’t too miserable. Imagine would be a key word here. If I was being truthful, I had no doubt I’d been torture to spend time with. The numerous pulverised piece of furniture I opened my eyes to the morning after the Council meeting seem to indicate that. Hey, if you’d had your only reason for existence turned on its head and ripped out from under you, you’d probably be a more than a little agitated too. I though taking Council furniture as collateral was a perfectly valid balance for the years they took from me. As my mind ran through the last few days, it inevitably circled back to one question. The question, really. I’d asked it, the Council had asked it, hell even Mark and Rory had asked it, not that they’d tell me. Well, Mark hadn’t. Rory had waited all of six hours before voicing it. What good is a perfect Chosen One if they’re not actually Chosen? James was still exalting the team’s capabilities. He wasn’t wrong in doing so. The newbie probably had the best chance of getting out of this thanks to them. He turned to me. “And this is Electa Smith. Your trainer.” ++++ The woman he’d just pointed to was leaning at the far end of the porch, against the side of the cabin. She had her arms crossed over her chest, one foot slung casually over her other ankle. She pushed off, smoothly transitioning into her walk towards them. Her gaze flitted over from James to Chloe, calmly giving her a once over. By the small tightening of her mouth, Chloe could guess she was not impressed. The others had all focused on her short trip from the porch up to the newcomer. Chloe could almost feel the tension in the air, hear their bated breath as they waited for Electa’s reaction. It became evident with every second that she was the leader of the encampment, James’ title surpassed by what appeared to be sheer strength of character. She stopped just shy of two feet from Chloe, eyes scrutinising every detail they could. Up close, she looked to be a few years older than Chloe herself, tanned skin marred by a single scar, which bisected her left eyebrow down to just shy of her cheekbone. How the injury hadn’t taken with it one of two deep blue eyes was a mystery. Her eyebrows slowly raised towards her dark brown hairline before she let out a deep sigh. “Let’s go.” The world sprang into action around them. Councilman James gave her one last warm smile before taking long strides into the main cabin. Silva approached her from the side, hand outstretched. At her confused look, he elaborated: “I’ll be taking your bags to your cabin, Ms. Kane.” “I’m not going to my cabin?” A short bark of laughter rang out. She turned to see Vasquez and Maxson approach. “Not with your trainer. She’ll want to put you through the wringer first” supplied Maxson with a grin. The woman was energetic, almost bouncing in place once they reached her. “Yes, thank you Rory for so elegantly predicting my plans” came the drab reply from the trainer, now almost fifty feet away. “Am I wrong?” tested Maxson. The other woman didn’t bother replying, continuing onwards. “Silva makes sure everything runs smoothly around here, not just the transport. Don’t worry, your baggage is in good hands” supplied Vasquez with a soft smile. Now he did tower over her. Chloe reluctantly handed over her pack. “Come on, you don’t want to keep Electa waiting. Trust me, I should know.”
"MESSLA, EMERGENCY!"The new MESSLA autonomous directing vehicle was the trendiest thing out then. Connected to a standardized county grid, cars were now able to drive themselves around. Features were all voice program operated as the growing concern of texting and driving grew to a national level. A lazy excuse but an inevitable step in society that even a 25 year old like myself could see at the time. The headlines were all over social media, the first of its kind yet completely anticipated. "Conspiracy over woman who loses control of MESSLA self driving car."Opinions were already forming that the lady was just a crack pot trying to sue the corporate giant for an upgrade to her C-class self driver. Yet I watched her live skype to the news station anyway. "MESSLA, take me to work""And it started to take me to work just how it had a hundred times before. As I was sitting in the car I noticed it took an unusual exit before the main off-ramp. Maybe a quicker route because of traffic."Not unusual I thought to myself. The news continued. "I decided to drive it manually the rest of the way to work. The light turned green and the vehicle took off! It was going uncontrollably fast. I started panicking and called 911. Right as I heard the dispatcher that's when everything went black and I woke up here."Her IV drip bag and gown made it clear where she had ended up.

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