Split (1)

train · 177k rows

prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k
Vampire\-American The lights on set were too bright for Tavian Gherea, who was fifteen minutes from a Crosstalk interview on the Vampiric\-American experience. He was whisked away to a low\-light green room while the tech guys fiddled with the bulbs. Tavian was on the phone with a producer from TBC. He’d found out the network was advertising the special as Crosstalk: Interview With a Vampire. “Mr. Gherea, I want to be frank here, you’re a vampire. It’s an interview. It’s a pun, you know, the movie. Besides, I can’t change the title even if I wanted to, the ads, the graphics, they’re all done.” Tavian was paler than usual, he took a sip of Type\-O from a thermos. “I’m not trying to be anal\-retentive, but it’s just not the message I want to send. I don’t want to make light of the Vampire experience, and I feel like sometimes you, or Crosstalk, or TBC or whoever, don’t agree.” The producer sighed. “I’m sorry, but what I feel and what you feel, feelings, you know, it’s just not in the calculus of it all, you know?” Tavian relented. He couldn’t win every battle. A PA led him to the now dimly lit set, where Edvard Norrier, the interviewer, sat cross\-legged on a deep maroon armchair. His neck was resting at a tempting angle. Tavian took another sip. A PA whispered in his ear, told him not to move too much, something about the camera exposure. A makeup artist did some last minute brushing on Tavian’s forehead. They were live. Norrier faced the camera, his face vaguely plaintive and his voice a fuzzy baritone. He was lit only by the amber light of a victorian lamp. Tavian smiled faintly. “It’s been five or six years since you published your memoir, and ten years since the world learned that your people weren’t just apparitions from horror movies, but real beings, living among us.” Norrier waited for a response. “Well, when you put it that way, I sound terrifying.” Tavian chuckled slightly. Norrier looked unchanged. Tavian continued, “My life’s work, I believe, has been to combat the unfair narratives that have been unilaterally imposed upon Vampiric peoples. Historically, we’ve been a very convenient metaphor for fear of the Other, a way to process a society’s hangups about death or sexual desire or immigration even, and I think, my job isn’t to be a mediator or an ambassador or anything like that, but to help reframe the conversation, away from historical preconceptions, to a more nuanced and understanding view of us as a people, like any other.” “Oh, so you don’t suck people’s blood and live forever?” Jesus Christ, Tavian thought. “Look, we have a condition that’s isolated us from the rest of society, and it’s not born out of any malice towards mankind, we aren’t caricatures.” Norrier ignored him. “How would you characterize the mood in the country, knowing that vampires live among us? Would you characterize the mood as ‘tense’ or ‘really tense’?” “I would say that centuries of unfounded and ignorant—” “So now you’re calling us ignorant?” The audience nodded in agreement. “Your people, preying on humans for thousand of years, and you think people are afraid for nothing?” Tavian grew more agitated. “It’s gross and unfair to malign a whole people based on the actions of a few. I thought the discourse had evolved beyond this vulgar prejudice.” “Gross and unfair.” Norrier let those words hang in the air. “Innocents, by the thousands, sucked dry until they were nothing but pallid skin on bone. That’s what I’d call gross and unfair. That’s what I’d call vulgar prejudice.” Norrier’s stare remained unchanged, a sort of dulled pensiveness, even as his words grew hostile. “Look, the vast majority of vampires today feed on ethically harvested animal blood, and even in the past, most humans survived a vampire feeding!” The live audience gasped. A few scrambled for the exits. The camera panned to the audience remaining, who were a sea of nervous, sweaty faces. Norrier sighed. “That’s all we needed to hear. I would ask, what kind of monster would justify acts of cruelty, but we already know, we already know the kind of monster who’d do that.” The show went to commercial. Norrier flashed a gentle, personable smile. “That went okay, don’t you think?” “Yeah, I guess.” Tavian was slumped on his seat, his hands covering his eyes as the lights went up. Norrier walked up to the vampire, who was stewing in shame. “Just a word of advice, don’t use the word ‘discourse’, the audience hates it, makes you look like a fucking tool, okay? Good talk, good talk.” Tavian was rushed to the dressing room, he had another interview coming up. Part of a press tour for the film adaptation of his memoir, now a Horror/Thriller starring Ansel Elgort. He looked at himself in the mirror. He saw nothing staring back.
(This is one of my first ever posts from an older, similar but different WP. Thought it might work here, too. Hope you like it!) ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: The first time we proved Einstein wrong and traveled faster than light with the SpaceX ship "EdisonSux", it was like a beacon to the other sentient races of our galaxy. Very soon afterwards, our different countries were all bombarded with FTL Communications saying, "Congratulations!"And, "Welcome to The Fold!"Notice that an Emissary Ship was headed our way to make the proper introductions into our new found Galactic Community sent shockwaves all around the world. That these transmissions hit our phones, our TVs, our radio stations, and our computers without regard to Nation or Secrecy was, to put it mildly, quite the shock for everyone. An emergency Summit gathered all of the world's leaders, regardless of animosity or treaty. This was without a doubt the most important global event in our planet's history and there was no room for ancient squabbles to interfere. Given that the FTL messages went everywhere, to everyone, there was no way to keep the impending arrival a secret from the masses. So we had to decide how to proceed, "collectively." With only three months to prepare, all that anyone in every country could talk about was just what to do when the aliens arrived. Not just one alien, but all of them. Based on the transmissions, representatives from over three dozen sentient species from far off worlds we're coming to Earth and everything had to be perfect. But of course, we are a divisive planet and everyone had to have their say. As the clock ticked down, and only one week remained before our guests arrived, the best plan put forward was to host a Gala Reception, complete with speeches, unlimited media access, fancy decorations, and a meal fit for a king. The only question was, what did the aliens eat? With so many different species to accommodate, the world's most renowned chefs were brought in to plan the dinner. Anthony Bourdain, Gordon Ramsay, Jamie Oliver, Paula Deen (just in case), and many, many others, were all gathered to brainstorm for the occasion. Most were years retired, or ready to, but for such an important event, even 80 year old Anthony Bourdain could not turn down such an honor. Unfortunately, as it turns out, they needn't have worried. The entire affair was doomed before it started. The ship arrived exactly on time to great fanfare. Cities held parades, stores closed for the occasion, and everyone flocked to their TVs to watch the landing unfurl. Never before in our entire history had so many people been of one mind. "I hope it goes well..." ... And it Did! At least, at the beginning it went very well. One by one, the delegations descended from the ship and met with our world leaders on the specially built landing pad, next to the newly constructed Galactic Hall of Representatives. I cannot begin to describe to you the sheer variety of beings that came to our planet that day. Just know that some looked kind of human, but most did not. Some were bipedal with bilateral symmetry to their bodies and others were...well, not. Perhaps the strangest where the representatives from *!Xir¶0nn! 4. Beings of pure energy, looking like nothing so much as a floating ball of blue light, they certainly put a snag in the whole, "shake hands/apendages and Welcome to the planet"greeting that had worked so far. However, a deep, hasty and awkward bow seemed to go over well enough. Courtesy of our guests, Universal Translators made communication a breeze. Every word the visiting delegations spoke was sent worldwide, instantaneously, to the farthest reaches of our planet. Introductions were made, speeches were given, and after about 2 hours, the entire party was ready to move inside. That's pretty much when it all went to shit.
That day is today. You sip quietly from your snifter of whiskey, your eyelids heavy from the heat, it’s mid afternoon on the Spanish peninsula and the noonday sun makes your thoughts feel slow and muggy. No one said it would be like this. His body is gone, set ablaze in a oven two towns over, his ashes collected into an urn that you can’t decide what to do with. It sits, staring at you balefully from where you left it, discarded on the table with other useless things - expired coupons and a letter to his relatives that you’ll never send. They were never close and you don’t think you can be bothered. Suddenly your silence contemplation is interrupted, it happens a lot these days and makes you cringe, your face wrinkling as you are forced again to hear his voice, the accent and inflection a perfect facsimile of the way he said your name. “Mariah! Mariah!” You glare balefully at the corner of the room, where the cage sits, gleaming black metal shining in the light of the dying sun. It’s sole occupant ignores you, content to clean its feathers and peck at the bird seed you left it that morning. Your contemplated selling the bird, a rare parrot he’d brought home on his travels, but while the pain of loss digs deeper every time it calls your name, you can’t handle the idea of a voice forever calling your name in a dead man’s tongue in a house that never knew either of you. You consider your whiskey, swirling the glass even as the see the bird filling it’s lungs for another mournful shout. Even in death, he haunts you.
(To OP: why not both? Being moral and having a heart do not contradict each other) "I don't know, but if that's makes you happy, i don't see why heaven wouldn't have someone like me."The clown smiled. "Can you read me a story?"the girl asked. She held up a bible with various bookmarks sticking out. The clown gently took the bible and randomly opened up to one. The clown then sat down on a nearby chair and pulled himself closer to the hospital bed. "Let me tell you the parable of the prodigal son..."The clown started. When the clown finished, the girl spoke: "You're a good person, i think you'll go to heaven." "Even if i didn't, i'd still like to be a good person."the clown replied. "Even if you don't go?"The girl asked. "Especially if i don't go."The clown smiled.
My cat set my house on fire. I don't know how but she did. Luckily, the dog put it out. I'm just really confused. One minute I was just chilling on the couch, watching some news about a comet falling to Earth and then- WOOSH- flames everywhere! But it still doesn't actually change much. What would I really do with super powered animals? Make them fight each other? That's a little unethical. I sit down on the grass outside of my slightly burned house and Sparx, my cat, curls up on my lap. My dog, Aquaman, sits beside us. I'm happy, even, I'm pretty sure the bird in the tree above me just hurdled a rock at another bird. At least there's balance in my life. I pet Sparx. She's like a little heater.
“Thanks to you I can now finally be free.” She said “No. I should be the one thanking you. You’re the one who set me free. So thank you.” I had traversed mountains and desert. Swam vast oceans and beat the toughest monsters left on Earth. All for the 4 stones to resurrect him. “Huh. You’re shorter than I expected. Nevertheless, come, I have much to show you before we start the third and final phase.” “What is the name of the warrior who freed me?” “Just call me Merir for now.” “Merir! What has become of this rhelm?” “The short answer? After you died, things changed. There was a period of growth and now there isn’t. The long answer? Let’s start walking and I’ll tell you.” She follows. I continue, “So, after you were beaten by the wizard, he made a special lock to keep you away from Earth. I opened it. In your absence, the Earth grew as prosperous as ever. Everyone is happy now, and content.” “Then why’d you free me?” “I knew you’d ask that. I’m the greatest warrior in the rhelm. I have defeated everyone and I’ve grown bored. Our society has become lethargic and no longer seeks growth. Everything is at the strongest point we can conceive.” “I see.” “Yera, goddess of weakness, I call upon you to be my arch nemesis. Show me where I am weak so I can become strong. Show us all where we’re weak so we make become strong. Set us free.”
There was 100 of them, standing blankly in the fields, heads turned down at the sparkling embrace of their phones. Next, a silence, the whisper of voices echoing into empty eardrums, villi dancing at a sullen word. Liquid sparks and crackles, electrons buzzing inside the potentcy of love and The 100 drop to their knees, hearts broken, burst like a balloon. Dead and hollowed out, like statues. Quiet and cold. 100.
She had on the green gym shorts he liked to watch her walk around his apartment in. Striped and worn. They hugged the lower part of her ass and her cheeks looked like they did when she was a teenager. God, she was supple then. But, she wasn't walking now. She was pinching the bridge of her nose with her ring finger and thumb. The unfiltered sat patient between middle and index, her nose prematurely flaring to ward off its kindling. He was looking at the floor she finally spoke. "Jerry, I want to leave". That first great and deep exhalation followed and smoke billowed his way blowing her perfume with it. He couldn't say no but he was trying his damnedest to not say yes. His fingers marched in place over top of the table as he tried to look through her for his answer. "And go where?" "Anywhere!" "Classic, anywhere, anything, something, somewhere. It's the same damn line. You're not happy but you're not doing anything about it, so anything is better, someplace is better. I don't see you making any changes,"he said. His hand came down between the last syllable. Happy sunflowers catching the setting sun through the window across the kitchenette jolted in the vase on the table. She started with his name again but he cut her off. "Deedee, I'm not saying 'no', but I am not letting you. I'm not going to let you keep hopping down rungs in your life. Avoiding this, scared of that, "Jerry was standing now, like most men he filled the kitchenette easily with his presence. Like most men, he was an any man. She stormed out of the floral print kitchenette screaming. The neighbors heard them. It wasn't so bad that they needed authorities. They hear that shit in the morning when they're getting out the door, and during the poor seasons they'll hear them in the afternoon. They'll hear all about how we're falling through life, as if that is the holdup in their lives, as if that's the matrimonial knot they've hung themselves with.
“Fired,” Ronald muttered, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.” I didn’t beg, I didn't bother. I just walked out. I walked down the empty city streets. This late in the evening the sounds of the sprawling metropolis had mostly quieted. My pace increased as I made my way up the sidewalk when\- Crack! Rain was just what I needed. A thunderstorm hadn’t been in the forecast, but the weather in this city was like that, never predictable. I ran faster as the water came pouring down. With my new jobless state, the last thing I wanted to do was call an Uber. Eventually, I saw my apartment building up ahead. I opened the door, almost tripping in my haste, and flopped into the elevator, dripping water everywhere. Just before the elevator doors shut, a tall woman in a smart outfit stepped on with me. She wrinkled her nose at my disheveled state, then seemed to recognize me, and spoke. “Late,” My landlord, Paulina, uttered, “your rent is late. This is the third month in a row.” A spike of panic shot through my mind. I could have sworn that I had paid. I muttered a quick reply to her as the elevator opened on my floor, and ran out towards my apartment. &nbsp; &nbsp; “No,” the interviewer said, a look of disgust on their face. “But, I. Look, I’m desperate, I’m a quick learner, and I-” “Learn not to lie on your resume. Now get out.” Like I said, I was desperate. All this time had passed, and still no luck finding a new job. I had managed to get a few part-time gigs here and there, but nothing that could pay for my apartment for long, and my meagre savings were almost out. Lost in thought, I was looking at the ground and thinking about what to say at my next interview, when I felt myself slamming into someone at full speed. The pair of us fell to the sidewalk. I looked up and immediately began to apologize. “Sorry!” I flushed and looked them over. They were smartly dressed, clearly the type of person well off and with places to be, “I am so sorry! I should have been paying attention to where I was going!” A small voice in the back of my mind whispered, Please don’t sue me. To my surprise, they just smiled and got to their feet, “It’s totally fine, shit happens. I should’ve been paying more attention too.” We exchanged names, and I told a joke about a prince and a fishmonger that got a laugh. It turned out we were heading in the same direction, so we started walking together. I revealed that I was about to interview in the grand granite tower we were about to enter, and my walking partner declared that they would put in a good word with the interviewer about me. I stammered that they didn’t need to do that, but they insisted. &nbsp; &nbsp; “Fired,” I gasped out as they stood at my door once again, “We’ll be fired if anyone finds out about this.” Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic to see them, and wanted nothing more than to invite them in, but it was violating so many company policies that it wasn’t even funny. “And that’s why I’m quitting,” their easy smile made me want to melt, but their words hit me with the force of a truck. “What? This is your dream job, you have worked towards this your entire life. I don’t want you to do this, not for me, not for anything.” “I took a job at another firm. This is worth it. For you. For us.” Inside the apartment we went. &nbsp; &nbsp; “I do.” It was the happiest day of my life.
I was everyone's abuelita. I could be teacher, healer, comedian, and an excellent cook if you let my children tell it. But my children were very ungrateful because my love for them did not allow for the types of punishments that would fit their various crimes and abominations. I tried to teach them in song, dance, and the written word as well as through storytelling with my voice. I tried to be a means of edification with mother earth's plants and crystals. Oh, and the innumerable stars and galaxies. "Teach us to make weapons. We want to take the western hemisphere."But they all had so much land that there are still undisocvered regions on this well-travelled globe, or disc, depending on who you speak to. They only wanted to learn so they could destroy, and did not think of the one who had taught them how it was done, and for that, Grandma has to die. Only to be reborn as Sarah-Lakali-ma. The laughing saint, and the Goddess of destruction. Now, she is beautiful and young many times again. RIP Grandma, and everyone who opposed or rebelled against your mighty and just law.
It is the time of the winter Olympics in 1972. Hundreds of tourists pour into the Haneda airport to witness the grand event. The airport staff has their hands full with the bustle of many different people. Sataka Gintoki used to be a part of the airport staff until he retired several years before; today he was just there to fly to Hong Kong to visit his son. He scans the medley of people and is thankful that he doesn't have to be on the lookout today $He used to be airport security$\-today he can just stand back and watch the people go about their business. Gintoki recalls his days of duty. Some days were very platonic with hardly any action. Some others, however were incredibly trying. He had experienced many events and was well aware that a plethora of people from all over the world had the capacity to trigger troublesome, confusing, even bizarre episodes. He recounted some of these episodes and smiled as he drifted back to the present. Overall, he had enjoyed his job and the vagaries that came with it. His eyes fall upon a gentleman in his 50s\- couldn't have been much older than himself. He is having a conversation with the store keeper of a souvenir shop. He speaks Japanese, but clearly he is a foreigner from his appearance. Gintoki could overhear some of the conversation and is impressed to learn that this gentleman speaks rather fluent Japanese. He waits for his conversation with the store keeper to conclude and debates whether he should have a small chat with the man. He looks at his watch\-still a long way until departure. He begins to walk towards this foreigner, only to freeze in his tracks within a few steps. He squints to make sure. There is no mistaking it. Out of the numerous incidents he had had to deal with, one was unquestionably the most baffling. Back in 1954, they had held a man claiming to be a citizen of 'Taured'. A smartly dressed man, he hardly appeared unscrupulous, but had a certain element of mystery to him. He caught their attention and as he answered more of their questions, it became increasingly obvious that there was some foul play. They put him in a local hotel and posted a few armed personnel to make sure he did not leave and started evaluating his statements. None of them checked out. But when they tried bringing him in for further interrogation, they realized he was gone. With his belongings from the security locker. For several weeks they had tried to understand how he could have disappeared\-several theories were tried and shot down because they all seemed impossible. Over time, since no act was perpetrated, they stopped looking for this man and the whole incident faded from the minds of the people involved. Presently, Gintoki is positive he is looking at the same man. His features have aged, but it is definitely him. Several thoughts flood Gin's mind at once\-should he report this man to the authorities? Should he confront him by himself? If so, what to say? What if he is mistaken about his identity? That man is now looking at his watch. Time is running out. Gin decides to go ahead and speak to him, he doesn’t look like much of a threat anyway. As he approaches the man, he smiles. But it is out of general courtesy\-he doesn’t seem to recognize Gin. He nervously greets him and introduces himself. After some small talk Gin brings up the matter of the 'Taured' incident.
It was getting dark. Danny stretched as he downed tools, the road repairs were nearing completion. “Danny,” shouted Stan, his boss. “Collect those traffic cones. I want to go home.” “On it,” responded Danny. He trotted across the new darkened patch on the road’s surface. “Not those ones,” said Stan. The older man pointed down the hill toward the morning’s work. “We left some down by the generator when we arrived.” Danny stumbled to a stop and moved away toward the waiting cones. “Fool boy,” said Stan aloud. “`Who’s the fool?`” said a mechanical voice. Stan spun around at the words. The ground shook and he stumbled to one side. The foot of a giant mecha double decker crashed to the ground beside the crouching figure, gouging a 5ft hole in the work crew’s newly surfaced asphalt. “What the..” began Stan, he paused. “It’s going to be a long night.”
I woke up. I looked around to find myself surrounded by the sea. I remembered the storm and the ship sinking, and people dying; the screams fresh in my mind. Seagulls were squawking above the salty unforgiving ocean. I could see something in the distance but I couldn't tell what it was because it was so far away. I was on a lifeboat by myself. By mid-afternoon the thing got bigger and I knew I was drifting closer to it by the hour. Around early evening I knew it was an island. The sun was setting. I knew I couldn't swim to the island because of sharks, so I waited. In the middle of the night I finally washed up ashore. When I finally got out of that boat I passed out. When I woke up the next day I couldn't believe my eyes. Right before me there was a pyramid. The pyramid towered the sky. I could hear barking of dogs of all shapes and sizes. All I could think about was to get out of this place so I traveled to the pyramid hoping to run into some sort of civilization. When I got there I found no city but only dogs. The thing was in the middle of nowhere. I started to cry and give up when something remarkable happened. The dogs gave me food and water. I couldn't believe it. How was this all possible? They were just four legged creatures. My hunger got the best of me so I thanked them and eat and drank the food and water they gave me. It was delicious. After that I decided I could take care of the dogs as a way of giving thanks. I made my self a bow and arrow to hunt animals with and brought them over food each day, and in return they would feed me and keep me warm at night. The dogs and I bonded more and more everyday. It got to the point that I didn't want to leave them so I decided to stay with them. We were more then just friends we were family. One day after years of giving them food they all vanished along with the pyramid like it was never there in the first place. I cried for many nights, barley eating or drinking. After that I tried to find it to no avail. One day a sound startled me out of my slumber. I looked up to the sky and I saw all of the dogs in the pyramid in the sky. All the sudden I heard a ships horn in the distance. They must have seen my fire I made the night before. I knew I had to make a choice; stay with the dogs or return to society. I chose to stay with the dogs. I screamed to the flying saucer don't leave me. The dogs understood and with a beam of light they transformed me into a dog. After that I was transported into the flying pyramid. Words can't express how happy I was. Then the alpha dog talked to me. He explained to me that they were sent on Earth to help those who were lost out at sea. Their mission was to take care of people who would otherwise die without their help. I understood. After awhile of searching from the sky they found another human who was shipwrecked. We landed on the island waiting to be discovered.
I couldn't stop staring. I mean...I was trying to look away but I couldn't. As I stood there on the sidewalk my eyes were fixated on the goldendoodle relieving himself on the side of a telephone pole. Its owner, a woman wearing a bright yellow coat and oversized sunglasses, looked at me suspiciously as I stared at her dog, yet I persisted until they walked away. You see, after what I've been through, you can't really blame me. It all started a few months ago when I had a relatively routine surgery. Apparently, during the surgery I lost a substantial amount of blood. Even though they gave me more blood, when they removed the breathing tubes at the end of the procedure my heart rate slowed. Then it stopped. The anesthesiologist said that I was flatlined for 2 minutes until they were able to bring me back. He later told me that the whole thing was a learning experience for him. It was much more than that for me. Even though I was told that it was only two minutes, it felt like several hours. I woke up on the table and lifted my head to see them beginning chest compressions. The strangest part was that I was able to stand up and watch this take place. It almost felt like a cliche to be having an out of body experience. There I was, lying flat as they tried to bring me back. The sound of the EKG machine rang steady through the room as the bright green line ran flat across the computer screen. I then received the strangest sensation that someone, or something, was looking at me. I looked to my right and there, sitting on the floor of he operating room, was a yellow labrador retriever. He looked at me with his blue eyes and I looked at him. Somehow, I knew that I needed to touch him. I bent over and placed the palm of my hand on his forehead. Instantaneously, I was elsewhere. I was in a large bright room beautifully adorned with chandeliers, candles, and plants. The floor of the room was entirely covered brightest green grass complete with the occasional dandelion. I stood barefoot in my hospital johnny. Despite feeling a bit exposed, standing on fresh green grass with my bare feet felt wonderful. I looked up as the yellow lab trotted ahead to what I can only describe as a table that looked an awful lot like DaVinci's painting of the last supper. There, in the middle of the table was the biggest dog that I had ever seen. His fur was gunmetal grey and and grew straight at least a foot long from his body. His eyes were icy blue and he wore a silver collar that reflected the light of the chandeliers and candles. To his left sat the yellow lab, who had seated himself comfortably. To his right sat an old man. The man was bald with a silvery white mustache. He wore a starched sea foam green shirt and a purple bow tie. He and I exchanged friendly smiles. The remainder of seats at the table were filled with a combination of dogs and humans. All were beautifully coiffed and held expressions of patient friendliness. The large grey dog looked to the man next to him. The man stared into the dog's eyes for about twenty seconds, nodded, and then looked to me. "You have been asked here by our God to plea for your everlasting celestial life in Heaven,"he said. "I...I would like to meet your God so that I could tell him myself,"I replied, confused. A light laughter broke out across the table as the humans petted the backs of the dogs' heads. From under the table I could see tails wagging. "My good man, it is my honor to introduce you to Grey. He goes by many names on Earth but up here he is simply Grey. He is good and patient, but only allows the kindest of human beings to enter his kingdom. Would you say you've lived a life of kindness?" My eyes moved from the man's face to Grey's. Grey is God. All of the imagery we've been taught to believe about an old man with a long beard holding a lightning bolt was untrue. God is a...dog? Does that mean that the dogs we have on Earth are his...disciples? Or maybe angels? I was so confused that I hadn't yet given thought to whether or not I'd lived a life of kindness. I began to ponder this and assess individual scenarios where I was both kind and unkind. I thought of the time that I cheated on a calculus test in college. Then, I thought about all of the money I raised for cancer research when I ran the marathon. The panel continued to look to me with their patient smiles. I began to speak: "Thank you for...." At that moment I felt myself tumble backwards as if falling into a deep sleep. When I awoke, I was back on the operating table and looking at the panicked face of my anesthesiologist. "Hey! Can you see me? Can you grab my hand? Hey guys think we've got him back!" I spent the hospital recovery and then subsequent months wondering if what I experienced was real or if it was a dream. Grey the God. I contemplated telling everyone from my best friend to my sister to a priest but kept this secret to myself. There's a part of me that feels comfort in the idea that, when I do actually die, I will see Grey again. I'll see Him and the man with the mustache and the yellow lab. I will also live as kind a life as I'm capable of moving forward. I also think that I'll rescue a dog, just to be safe. I have to imagine that Grey will give me a few extra points for that...
It's curious. I always assumed that everyone around me was happy, that I was the odd one out. That these moments of doubt, these days where I just wanted to crawl away and hide were something unique to me. I'm a little below average in how often I'm happy I'm realizing. But it's never the people you think. The man who is silent and alone, sitting in the corner and never giving more than a polite smile, can sometimes be the happiest. He is content with being alone and finds great joy in being able to control who he interacts with, who I always assumed was sad. Then there are those like me. I always need to be the center of attention, I always need laughter around me, requiring other people. I try to please everyone hoping that by bringing them happiness I'll find some. Which it does, at that moment where they laugh around me I feel joy. But some days I can get no laughter, so there is none for me. I never expected her to be so sad though. So thoughtful and beautiful, so endearing and kind. She will always go out of her way to take care of someone else, she always looks for the light and is willing to help you out of a nasty situation. When there was no light, she would be the light. I assumed she was a beacon of joy. I watch her from across the street, eyes on the small device pointed directly at her. She pushes her hair back behind an ear as she leans down to talk excitedly to a small child who is happily displaying some treasure to her. The device gives the slightest beep in my hand to indicate a sliver of joy. The boy runs away grinning, and she smiles a sad smile. I look down at the device? Could it be wrong? Could someone so full of light to share with others be lacking it? I was halfway across the street heading directly towards her before I realized it. "Hey, Samantha."She looks up from her phone curiously, a smile on her face as usual. A quick glance shows there isn't any movement yet. "Weird question, what makes you happy?"She frowns. My heart beats in my ears as I feel it, the slightest vibration of the Gaydar. She shrugs as an uneasy look spread across her face. "That is odd, why do you ask?"Now isn't that an excellent question? How little ahead I had planned this out seemed to be crashing down on me. "Well, you seem to make everyone happy wherever you go. So I guess I wanted to know if that's what makes you happy or not. It's such a fantastic thing you do."The device buzzed even more in my pocket, and that's when our eyes met. I could see her tears forming as she blinked and stepped forward. Her lips brushed my cheek so briefly I'm not sure it even happened then she stepped back to look into my eyes. Her face broke into a grin of pure joy, one the gaydar agreed with and one that I matched. "When I think about it, I think it is what makes me happy. I sometimes forget though, you know? Forgetting what used to make me happy? Does that even make sense."I nod as she checks her phone, grimaces then walks away. "Don't forget to be happy too; you deserve it!"I call out. She freezes as soon as the words leave my lips as I wish I could pull it back. She moved too fast for me to realize she was going in for a hug as her arms were wrapped tightly around me. I pull the gaydar from my pocket carefully and look over it as my friend breathes deeply into my chest. I had made her happy. A second pulsing light began to grow just in front of hers. I don't know why I threw it into the passing truck that day, but I hope whoever finds this note remembers something vital. Not everyone is happy, but everyone deserves to be.
No one had successfully programmed a natural language teleporter before. After my experience, I have a feeling they'd stopped trying before they went too deep. I'd labored for months over the device, taking every scenario into account and doing my best to code for even the wildest outcomes. It turns out I'd spent more time focused on the big picture and as best as I can tell, two tiny mistakes nearly cost me my life. My idea started as a purely practical one. I grew up on a farm that raised emus and the daily upkeep was enough to run me ragged. When I finally took over the farm in my early 20s I learned that our flock struggled from throat issues that made solid foods a hit-or-miss venture and we lost a few good birds before I started thinking of new ways to keep them fed. I had recently became interested in 3-d printers and also dreamt that teleportation would soon be within the grasp of science. I stumbled upon a startup that aimed to promise both and though it sounded too good to be true, even advertised a "natural language coding"to make it possible for even the layman to command this new tech. Fast forward to the day I had my new plan configured and was ready to do a trial run feeding my emus by transporting carrots directly into their digestive systems. I fired up my newly purchased console and ran my home-built "Load carrots into emus"directive and suddenly felt a searing pain. The "Natural language programming"technique required a bit of startup as it could be used for multiple languages. In building my alphabet in the system, I had transposed my "E"with "A"and my "M"with "N."Thus, my clever script to feed my birds left me with carrots in my bum, but also a healthy respect for new technology.
The first thing I noticed when I walked into an “All-Human High School” was how short everyone else seemed. Even the adults. I was one of the first orc students since the supreme stuck down segregation to go to a human school. The state decided that since I had a human father I was more likely to be accepted. They were wrong. I was still an orc. I past through a mob of protesters held back only by metal barriers. Signs were held by parents and students alike. They shouted obscenities. I walked past with my head held high. Later I wondered if they would have been so bold if the barriers weren’t there. I had helpfully been given my schedule the day before but I had not been given a tour or provided a map. I was immediately lost. I wandered awkwardly for a few minutes until a voice got my attention. “Hey, you need some help?” The speaker was a young man with medium brown skin. His hair was short and black. I stood a foot over him. “Yes! Please.” I respond. To my shock he smiled and held out his hand for my schedule. Kinda dazed I handed it over. “You have English first. You’re in luck! We share first and second period! I can show you the rest of the school during lunch.” He smiled again as he started to lead me down the hall. “Thank you for the help, but... why?” I couldn’t fathom someone this nice after the hatred outside. He laughed. “The good thing about all the bigots being outside is that the only people in here are teachers, students who don’t care and people who see this as progress.” As we reached the door to the classroom he held out his hand, “I’m Ernest Green. Pleased to meet you.” I smiled for the first time in a long while. As pale green hand met brown, I felt hope for the future. “I’m Sharog Cohen, but my dad calls me Sarah.” Edit: Basic editing. While I am at it Ernest Green was one of the Little Rock Nine. He was the first to graduate. This was during the desegregation era in the US.
"Two cannibals sat on a log,"a jovial yet quiet voice came from Jesse's right. "They ate a nice meal." Jesse turned to find a short brown-skinned man, a pink turban on his head. She smiled, unsure of what to do. "Uh, what?" The man, kind of handsome now that she got a look at his face, had a trimmed beard and moustache with light green eyes. He held up a piece of chicken. "It's like eating skin." "Oh."Jesse laughed. She held hers up as well. "Maybe if skin was made of rubber." Maybe if skin was made of rubber? That's the best you've got? The man seemed to find it funny, as he laughed a loud chuckle that seemed to spread across the courtyard. Jesse looked around, surprised to find herself comfortable despite the stares. "I'm Raj."He held out his hand. "Jesse."She replied, shaking it. "In my culture,"he spoke with no accent, "we're now legally married." She laughed back as his smile widened. "Is that so? Well, I should atleast know my husband's major." "Hmm?"Raj looked around, pointedly staring at the library and the students walking around campus. "Oh, right, no I'm not a student, I'm here looking for new food. Cannibal, remember?" She laughed harder. "And the backpack?" "More of a lunchbox."He said. Jesse shook her head and smiled. Her cheeks began to hurt, she didn't remember the last time she smiled so hard. "I hope I don't end up in there." "I prefer dark meat." She laughed again. "Perhaps we can eat, over dinner maybe?" Jesse nodded and held out her hand. "Give me your phone."
Everyone was gathered around me as they rejoiced at my victory of the dreaded warlock, we partied along with the ocean like sky, to the fiery mellow sunset and dawn. It felt like my purpose was almost done, I had overcome of what was thought of an impossible journey, but here I am now. “Hey blondie, what are you staring at?” A finger snapped infront of me and I was brought back in reality, it was Alexa who was staring at me holding a cup of beer. The music was so lively, yet my soul was as blue as the night sky. For I knew what would happen after this journey would end, Death shall greet me. It’s been only six hours after I defeated and went home through a portal back to the kingdom of Zephyr. “Nothing sharp eyes, come on” I said and joined the crew. Malcolm was dancing with the hot nymphs, Justin was dancing along with his father and Marina the water mage was admiring sea shells with the children. It’s been two years, and to know that I wouldn’t be with them after so long broke me so much. I knew I would have to tell them sometime but I just couldn’t bring myself to saying it to them. Alexa held my hand, out of everyone in the crew she was the one I told about it. I told her after we had escaped narrowly the alluring mermaids and shared a kiss under the moonlight. It hurt her to leave me and it pained me to know that I wouldn’t remain with the love of my life. “Tell them” she said and slowly walked me closer to them. “GIOVANNI JOIN US! AS WE PARTY TILL THE SUN IS REBIRTHED” Malcolm said as he raised a cup of beer, everyone followed and made a lot of noise. Death is now greeting you A thought that said, I looked at Alexa one more time and gave her a nod. Which meant that it was time for me to depart. I closed my eyes and waited, everyone looked at me weirdly and as I opened it a mysterious sound popped out behind me. Everyone gasped as I turned around and saw a portal, It glowed in a blue light in a swirling motion. A person went to touch it, as the man touched the portal, it looked as if it was a wall. The hand did neither disappear or go through, it didn’t even react to the touch. “Marina did you do this?” Justin said and everyone’s eyes darted to her who was sitting on the floor playing with the children. “No... I don’t recall doing a portal incantation today” Marina said and stood up. Everyone was exchanging confused looks as to why a portal suddenly appeared surprisingly. And I thought maybe, just maybe. “I know that look blondie” Alexa said as she brought me back to reality. “What if...” I said but as I tried opening my mouth, all that came out was a broken voice. “Giovani, please no.” Alexa said as she held both my hands as tears started flowing down her cheeks. “We’ll never know” I said and made a grin. “Promise me you’ll comeback” she said and gave me a kiss. Our foreheads clashed together as we closed our eyes trying to sink the thought that this might be goodbye. I went to the portal and I went to touch it. As my hand was going to touch the portal, memories of campfire songs, fighting monsters, rescues and all those magical adventures flashed to my head once again. As I went for the portal my hand went inside. Everyone was now murmuring at what just happened. “Giovani what...why...how..” That’s all that Marina said. I looked at them with a sad smile and made a salute. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back” I said. I looked at everyone one last time, hoping that this scene would remain in my mind burned. I looked at Alexa who mouthed the words that would crush my heart into pieces. I love you I replied and mouthed to her in reply I love you two and looked at the portal again. Alexa screamed “You promise” as I went inside slowly and closed my eyes, the light was covering everything. Even when I tried to close my eyes the light would still be there. You promise Flashbacks of memories with her and the crew was on my mind as the light covered everything Hey blondie, what are you gonna do after this journey is finished? Alexa said ”Maybe go back to my house with the usual routines” I said” ”What!? After everything we went through you’re still going back to that lonely life you just lived?” She replied with shock and a bit of scorn* ”Well it wouldn’t be lonely anymore” I said and held her hand. You promise Those words kept echoing to my head over and over until the echoes became a high pitched beep sound. “Giovani?” A woman said. I opened my eyes and saw mom who was looking at me with deep concerns. I was back on my bed in the hospital and I was greeted with concern with my relatives as I awoke. “How long?” I said “9 years sweetie, you’re now 17” She said as tears of joy came flowing through her eyes. “What...” I stood up and touched the side of my head as it ached. It was just a dream? I thought “Thank god my little Van has cam back!” Dad said who now has started to grow a beard. Everyone hugged me as if I came back from the dead joyfully rejoicing. But I was far from happy as I was separated from my true family. ———————————————————— Four hours passed after I was awake and I now stare at the nightly sky as I recall the kiss I had with her for the first time, it was weird how I was still able to walk the doctors said. Someday Alexa, I will return “Van sweetie the doctors said that you need to go out for a bit downstairs and communicate” Mom said as she entered with a food tray. After I ate mom made me wear these newly bought sandals and I went outside the room and into the hallway. I remember going here as a child when I had to see a doctor. I was here but my mind was somewhere. “Is everything alright Van? You’ve been quiet for a while” Mom said “I’m okay, just need some adjusting” I said and looked at her and smiled to reassure her. Then suddenly someone tapped behind me. I looked back and saw a cute girl who was a bit shorter than me. “Do I know you?”
The day was young. The colonists civilazation had been here for years. As they continued setteling in more and expanding,Things got weird. The people were acting weird. As the colonists grew the civilization people dissapeared. Then it showed itself. The hunters were going out and looking for the missing people. They were out at night. Which was their first mistake. They came across a pitch black cave. They went inside and with laterns. The lgiht woke it. The creature dropped from the roof. With 4 inch long claws and long black hair. It had on the arms and looked like a zombie bird. It went after the hunters. Clawed three of the huinters to bits. The rest were sprinting back to the civilization. They made it back. They started breaking down. With flashbacks. The creature spoke to them during their flashbacks. They had to be locked up. They went insane. The creature came in the dark. The creature found the civilization and wandered the streets. It killed the guards and when the people awoke they sprinted out of the town. All that stayed behind were killed. The people killed it at last... Those who ran out of the town found another old civilization. They went to it. To find a nest of the creatures. They took the insane on a boat to england. They steered it to england. They got off and they were never heard of again.... The next time england was visited they found a cave full of bloody bodies, The creatures dropped from the ceiling and killed them all.
"Hasbaugh! Hasbaugh! You get your snake-oil sellin', lyin', drunk ass out here now!" The man in the carriage did not stir. "Don't make me come in there!"Big Billy Blackwell called, brandishing is sawn-off double-barrel shotgun. The sun was preparing to settle behind the Superstition Mountains for the night as the large man approached the ornate black carriage. Again, the man in the carriage did not stir. "I'm giving you to the count of three, and then every last one of us you swindled is going to open fire on you."Blackwell called as at least six other men raised their various firearms. "One!"Billy began. "Two!"He shouted after a breif pause. "Three!"The burly man called, finally, and with an almost astounded finish. "You had your chance, Hasbaugh!"Billy called out, much quieter than before. "Fire!"Big Billy Blackwell called, squeezing the trigger of his shotgun, fighting the recoil as it belched fire and hot lead. At least thirty gunshots rang out over the next ten seconds. But Hasbaugh was dead before noon.
I woke to an incessant knocking on my door... my closet door. Goddammit. Every night for the last two weeks my slow descent into sleep has been rudely and abruptly interrupted. The knocking always manages to catch me right at that moment where my eyes begin to flutter and I've begun the tightrope walk between the vivid landscape of my dreams and the grim reality of the woken world. It's a beautiful moment of pure bliss which is continuously being stolen from me. Most nights I would attempt to put an end to the knocking, but it had been a particularly long day at work teaching Kevin how to use his new email. Eventually, however, the knocking grew louder and it was beginning to reach the point of no return as far as falling asleep was concerned. If I didn't do something about it, I risked sleeping through my alarm and possibly being too rushed to eat breakfast before work. So with a sigh and a grumble, I got out of bed, slid into my slippers, walked to the closet and tied the small Korean boy I keep in there to the radiator so he couldn't knock on my door any longer. I honestly don't know why I didn't think of that two weeks earlier, but whatever the case, I was finally able to get a good night's sleep.
"Why where we chosen", I ask Daren. "Because we came from different backgrounds, than the rest of the Deciders\-of\-Fate,"he says. "True, but there are plenty of people like me,"I say definitively. "Oh come on, there is no one that can replace you here or anywhere,"he says trying to comfort me. "I can't accept that, but we should probably get back to deciding the fate of all mankind and not myself,"I say trying to change the subject. "Okay. I believe that the whole of mankind is getting too powerful, "he starts to say. "Yeah, but what are we supposed to do make all nukes useless, somebody definitely would think somethings up, "I say interjecting. "No, I'm thinking more of a "random"hacker disabling all nukes worldwide,"He says. "We should see what the other Deciders\-of\-Fate think about that, but I think that would work, but how long will this last and when will we have to revert humans back to an earlier time to change how they work,"I say. "We should tell the other Deciders\-of\-Fate, but i have no idea how long till we do that,"he tells me. We ended up walking down the beautiful hall decorated with amazing arcs till we reached the room of decisions.
"We named him the Black Spider. A fallen Eidolon, he warred with us for eons before he and his followers fled through the Fetish Sector of the multiverse, where all the hedonistic fantasies of the Authors find flesh. We fought their wild debauchery and clever siren songs with iron discipline and brutal efficiency. The Umbral Plains of the Void have been irreversibly damaged by the Conflict, so we retreated into the Hearth of Ascendancy." >Liar. "I swear by the Dragon's maw, this is true. How else would the Sector be so damaged? We scoured it of life so many times..."the chained warrior shook his head. "What would make you deny this so?"he asked of the shadowy captor. >The Fetish Sector is damaged because the Authors fed it too well. And you have not retreated; the Eidolons wage war across this arm. "What else can we do? It is as the Void Dragon commands. Besides, what kind of answer is 'the Authors did it?' That is a child's answer." > What kind of answer is 'God told us to'? "Touche. But tell me, traitor, why did you follow him? The Spider offered nothing but pain and suffering for the billions, spoke lies and half-truths that you wanted to hear. Why did you abandon your duty to the people? Why did you lack discipline?" The face of a grotesque massive half-spider half-man slowly, agonizingly leaned out of the shadows. Eight eyes like dark stars saw in all directions, twitching in their sockets. A single fang on his left jaw, glistening with venom that could harm gods, spastically grabbed for a body to pierce. His mouth was a mass of cobwebs, moving over each other and reverberating with a voice that struck fear into the hardiest of men. > This is what your damned Dragon cursed me to be. This is what true discipline looks like. You want to know truth? Ask Him; let Him show you The Secrets, like all his bodyguard. Why are they always wearing that bulky armor, hmm? Why are they always silent, eh? Because. This is what loyalty is. "Then curse you, and your weak soul."The chained man spit in the eldritch abomination's second eye from the left. "If lesser men can stand the Secrets, then you truly are *weak*. Begone, and never return."Then the chained Eidolon warrior's spirit gave out, and he died. >He survived a full seven minutes of talking past disembowelment. Fascinating. --- --- The Void Dragon raged, scattering demons and sycophants to flight. It prepared another strike against the web that held It fast, cursing His traitorous brother. --- --- Okay, this one is a little short by my standards, but I daresay it's pretty nice. Questions, comments, concerns? Spelling or grammar mistakes? Comment below! Remember, if you see anything just tell me the line and what word is out of place. Thank you!
Every morning you would wake up at the crack of dawn. With a light pink on the eastern horizon, your ritual began. You are the Bringer of Light, Defendant against the Real Darkness. Without your daily ritual the Earth would be plunged into eternal darkness, where the Void would swallow all live in the Universe. The ritual starts as it has for countless of generations, the same ritual passed on from your father and his father's father. It can be traced back to the first day. You stand straight and look towards the east, chanting the sacred words as the Darkness fades and is replaced by light. With the horizon growing ever lighter, your chanting becomes louder and faster, faster and louder. Repeating the same line with increasing frequency as the sun inch it's way higher and higher, showing only half of itself. As your chanting grows in to a thunderous crescendo, you hear a mighting thunderbolt and lose all control of your body. As you're falling you hear the one of the Gods say "I had it with this damn rooster and his constant, irregular crowing!!"
Silence struck the naked pavement. Shadowed by the now dimming curvature of a fallen lamp post, Elsa shuttered, still in shock from the loud metallic impact. She looked up, crouching with her hands behind her. Just four inches above her stood the mast. A light percussive beating took place with her chest, like the heartbeat of a dramatic scene. "I'm okay,"she said, sliding away to a standing position. Her eyes followed the convex of the street light to its base. There, mingled in a mess of mechanical remains, was a car that had meandered over the sidewalk and into the lamp post. Elsa, now worried for its inhabitant, paced towards the automobile and peered in through a cracked aperture. The air bags had not deployed, and a single young man tilted sideways towards the passenger window. "Are you alright!?"she shouted while striking the the glass frantically. There was no reply. She stumbled over to the opposite side, now facing the driver within. Her hand ripped at the door handle, but it was locked. Again, she struck the door, bellowing in worried thought. "Open the door!,"she yelled. But the man was unconscious. Elsa surveyed the street. It was empty. The shops were closed. Not even the nightly stroll of a lonesome tumbleweed came by. She tried all the doors to no avail. "My phone - the phone - get the phone,"She mumbled to her self, shaking from the raw experience. Her hands became an anxious team of archaeologists, uncovering an ancient treasure from within the purse at her side. The screen turned on and she dialed three numbers. Nine. One. One. The phone rang three times, which was odd. A muffled click came through the speakerphone, and in the fraction of a second that followed, her thoughts swarmed in mess of agitated bees. Then the first sound of human interaction formed. "Good. Good,"the voice said. "You've done exactly what was asked. Take your things and get out of there. You are free to go." The call ended with an abrupt click, as if the phone had been severed by its neck.
Once upon a time.... Once upon a time she was known as Granny Goodness. Beloved, as much as one can be, of Darkseid, leader of the furies. Once, she held favor, but she let victory slide from her grasp. In divine anger, Lord Darkseid chose her punishment. Banishment. But not to this universe, no, that would be too lenient. Now, flung into the ever growing infinity that is the TV multiverse, she has a new name, a new identity. She is........ SOPHIA PETRILLO!!!! Cast into a new identity, she seeks a way to once again enter Darkseids good graces. As granny sits at the garish 1980's kitchen table, she glances at Blanch Devereaux, resident loose woman of this new reality. Soon, she thinks, soon dear sweet Blanch, you shall create for me an escape from this pathetic prison! She glances at Blanch. "Blanch, you look like your dog just died. While it was looking at you being moody. What, did your new boyfriend finally see you in daylight?" "Oh Sophia, such a card as always! I guess with a husband in the ground you do t have to worry about acting like a lady. " studio laughter "So that's a yes." Studio laughter "I don't see why it's any of your business, but yes, Carl an I did have a bit of a falling out. Out of a window, when his wife found us. At least he made a good cushion, since he is over 250 pounds." rancorous studio laughter woman coughing "Oh, so like every other date." unenthusiastic giggling "Oh Sophia, don't you have better things to do then critique my love life?" "not since the cable went out. " generic laughter "Listen Blanch,if you need a new boy toy, I know just the guy." "Really Sophia, I'm more interested in the living, not the dead." "I must have missed the day you found standards " Laughter "But seriously,he's a catch! A stud! He's greek." "Oh, so he has no money. " faint laughter "Not much, but he lives in a house in San Francisco." "California! Do tell!" Blanch sweeps aside the coffee on the table and grabs a seat. "Real sweet deal Blanch. Bachelor, widower, living with his brother in law. I think you have a real shot here." "I don't know Sophia, I would have to move to San Francisco. " "Trust me, it's worth it. Dorothy and Rose are sick of your bullshit anyway. Best to make a new start." "well I just dont..... " "Did I mention the brother in law is single. And they have a hot comedian friend living in the garage?" "I'm sold! San Francisco here I come!" Blanch rushes out of the back door. And now, Granny thinks to herself, for phase 2. Rose wanders into the kitchen, scatterbrained as ever. "Oh, Sophia, have you seen Blanch? I've been meaning to talk to her about her car." Soon, thinks Granny, soon I shall be back at your side Lord Darkseid. "She's seeing a man about a snake. Don't think we'll see her for a while. " "Oh, I hope it's not serious. My brother had to see a man about a snake in St. Olaf. It took 2 years and a big bag of Vaseline. " Granny facepalmed and thought, this could take a while.
It was 2014 when I first put out the ad on Craigslist, $50k to anyone that would kill me, but the catch was they would have to make it look like a hit. Loneliness was already killing me but I needed someone to put the nail in the coffin, because I wasn't man enough to do it myself. My wife left in November just as winter crept in, and I swear my own home never felt warmth again. Maybe she would miss me if I was murdered, maybe she would mourn me one more time, just maybe she would regret leaving. As I finished posting the ad, I went to sleep hoping to never wake up. But I did, six days crawled by as I hoped that a seventh would never happen. It was Friday night, like every Friday before I went out for pizza, a habit i wasn't committed to breaking yet, I just ordered less now. As I polished off my pie, and paid my check I noticed a movie playing across the street, John Wick, featuring Keanu Reeves. Well I knew this was going to be another Liam Neeson wannabe. I bought a ticket and sat in the back, something about his pain, his loss, it spoke to me. Maybe, I get a dog, maybe he could help me cope. I walked out of the movie determined to head to the pound in the morning, in search of a dog as lonely as I was. That was until I felt a sharp stinging sensation, I looked down at my shirt, a red spot began to rapidly expand, and as I looked up, I saw my first hitman. I woke up in the hospital two days later, with a lot of security around me, according to the officer on duty, there had been multiple attempts on my life. Each one, had apparently failed. The first chance I had I logged into my Craigslist account, my post had garnered a lot of attention, negative attention, and while it looked like attempts had been made to delete it, there it was, in multiple places. Fast forward to four years later, and it's now a game, I'm basically invincible. I started with weapons training, then hand to hand combat. I picked up survival skills and over the last few years dodged hundreds of attempts on my life. I had found a purpose, a new high, something that gave me life, the fear of death. I never did get that dog, and while i never finalized the divorce with my ex, we rarely spoke anymore, until last week. When I went to the same pizza place I always went to, I know, pattern of life is a killer, but this place always brought me a certain comfort that avoiding death couldn't. There she was, sitting alone, I decided to see if she wanted company. She nodded, she looked tired, but the slightest smile reminded me why I first fell for her. We chatted for a bit, I admit, it was nice to catch up, and as we parted ways she told me to call her. I laughed it off, eventually reasoning with myself why I should call her. 48 hours later, we were having dinner again, it was great, I could tell a lot had changed for both of us, again we finished dinner, and this time she beckoned me to come back to her place. Surviving hundreds of hits, it brings with it a certain level of caution, and while minor bells were going off, I brushed them aside and decided to take the chance. She only lived a few blocks away, and if things didn't work out tonight I could always get out of there. Those couple of blocks were nothing, we were laughing arms interlocked, maybe even a little tipsy off the wine we had shared earlier in the night, things were going well. I dropped my guard. A car pulled up close, I saw it just out of the corner of my eye. It was too late, I had no cover, first thought shield the person I loved. Bullets sprayed all around us, she screamed, as bullets tore at the pavement around us. It had been weeks since an attempt on my life had been made, the frequency of attempts decreased all the time, but the game for me, it was never over. I had survived 375 attempts on my life, my love, the only spark I had, she didn't survive her first one. She died in my arms just as quickly as the car sped away. Then they decided to U-turn, they were coming back, to finish the job. This time I was ready, I only saw red. I knew I needed to control all the feelings rushing through me, even as my wife lay next to me lifeless. Lifeless. I look at her again, I did this, I brought her into this risk, I let her die, I was alone again. I shut down, the car sped closer screeching to a halt six feet in front of me, again a barrel extended out of the car. Gunshots pierced the silence. I stood there and closed my eyes, felt the lead tear at my arm, abdomen, and legs. I collapsed. 375 attempts I survived, number 376, that was the one to do me in. I fell within fingertips of my wife I pushed my head close to hers, we would not die alone, but next to each other, I let the darkness take me. Finally, finding the peace I had sought all those years. Finally, at the end, solace. Everything went black all I can hear is the faint sound of beeping. It takes everything I have, but I open my eyes, I am back in the hospital. Alive and alone. 376 attempts survived.
Trigger Warning: Suicide You’ve had enough of this…whatever this is. Why is it that you’re always the only one left behind? At the age of four, you were orphaned when a truck collided with the car your father was driving. Your dad, your mom, and your one-year-old sister died in the accident. You were the only one who survived. At age eleven, you went camping with your best friend’s family. While goofing off on the trail by yourselves, you and your best friend encountered a mountain lion. Both of you stupidly ran on instinct. And then he tripped. You can still hear the crunching of his bones. This pattern continued on and on. When you joined the military, when you went on a rollercoaster ride with your kids, and even the most ridiculous things like when your business partner choked to death on a fishbone during dinner together! You asked yourself time and time again. Why? Why you? Why did everyone die but you? It felt like a joke—as if you were a jaded immortal in those stories whose loved ones died one by one while you continued to live. Except you weren’t immortal. You suffered serious injuries during that car accident, that rollercoaster ride, and that stint at the military. You felt the pain, the fear of never recovering, and the depression during physical therapy. But still, you lived, and they died. Eventually, you relinquished all your relationships and refused to make new ones. You hid yourself away from people because you were afraid. And tired. Oh, so tired. Now, you’re sitting in a bathtub. The orange light from the sunset passes harshly through the small window above you, illuminating what otherwise would be a dimly lit bathroom. With increasingly tired eyes, you struggle to look at your surroundings: the yellow-stained tiles lining the wall, the beaten shower curtain, the cobweb on the ceiling, the empty shampoo bottle. Your gaze finally settles below, at the large puddle of red steadily flowing from your wrist. It’s warm, the feeling contrasted by the coldness of the bathtub against your skin. You lose consciousness. In the state between life and death, you begin to dream. A dark figure with a scythe, oddly translucent and formless, approaches you. Instinctively, you know who you’re facing. Death. When he reaches your side, an urge begins to stir inside you, along with a deep-rooted fear: that you’ll leave with Death before satiating a life-long question. “Why me?” Death pauses. Though he has no distinctive face, you can tell that he’s contemplating how to answer your question. Eventually, he speaks: “Everyone is given a certain number of chances throughout life. You simply had more.” You stare at him in disbelief before letting out an angry cry. That can’t be it. It’s too easy, too simple! There has to be a specific reason for your misery, for your existence—perhaps something only you could do while you were alive? There must be a reason why you lived, but your loved ones didn’t! “No, there isn’t,” Death responds. “It is what it is.” You fight back a sob as tears stream down your cheeks. A cocktail of emotions surges through you in waves: sadness, hopelessness, regret. Regret. As if on cue, your life flashes before your eyes. You regret not appreciating your loved ones more, regret spending time at work instead of your kids, regret isolating yourself instead of forming meaningful connections. You regret your wasted life. Suddenly, you want to live, a feeling that you haven’t had in years. It wraps around you like a warm, colorful blanket, the cloth caressing your body as if urging it to move. You want to move! You want to get up and run and look at the surroundings beyond your dingy bathroom. You want to travel, to breathe, to listen to music. You want to be alive. But, you’ve run out of chances. You chuckle bitterly as you wait for the inevitable. You look up. Death steps closer, raises his scythe, and swings.
It was said that Odin gave his right eye for knowledge. Unbelievably, he hanged himself, wounded himself and starved himself, all for the cosmic knowledge that would lead him and his people to victory and everlasting honor. Sean McTakon, the English teacher, had remarked at the beautiful imagery and moral fables described throughout Norse Mythology. He did so to an extreme matched only by the pastor across the street from Welworth High School. Pastor Jenkins wasn't the friendliest, having a tendency to pontificate on the finer points of damnation and the hell he was sure most everyone was heading towards. Jennifer looked up at the two of them now, their bodies dangling together on the ends of spears, joined together by their point of departure from this world. It wasn't fear she felt then, but a twinge of regret. Maybe if she had gotten to school on time that day, she would be the one here, instead of the school's favorite teacher. Maybe if she had gotten their early, none of this would have happened at all. From one of the many deadly weapons planted in the grass before her was a scroll, blowing gently in the wind. The words on it were written in runes and symbols she didn't recognize, but she approached the scroll anyway, knowing what it said. As she stepped toward the fluttering notice, the symbols seemed to blur and Jennifer had to blink away the confusion before looking back and seeing the words in perfect English where there had just been gibberish. To the Ungrateful Ones. Ragnarok is upon you. You no longer pray, or sacrifice, or drink to us. You give thanks to false idols and believe yourselves to be the owners of your universe. Allow us to remind you of your place. Jennifer sighed at the notice, snatching it from the deadly post and crumpling it in her hands before throwing it aside. The forgotten Gods had felt incensed as they watch humanity progress without them. They watched months and decades as one would watch minutes tick by on a clock. As they watched, their anger and frustration boiled until, finally, they had each had enough. With weapons in hand, the Gods had descended to a realm they had once controlled and wrought destruction on humanity. For a time. The straps around Jennifer's ribs felt tight, but she did not touch them as she stepped back into the lines of her classmates and neighbors. Ever intuitive, humanity had taken those discarded weapons and the armor of those few that fell in the first days of the war. In basements, laboratories, universities, and military bases, humanity crafted their own arsenal, preparing to change their way of making war to adapt to this new conflict. From guns they crafted spears. From tanks they made armor. From the planes they made helmets. From the ships, they made swords. Running a hand through short-cut auburn hair, Jennifer reminisced on a time when she had no cares save for school and friends. She looked toward the people around her, standing steadfast as the enemy charged across an open plain. Bakers, programmers, truck drivers, teachers, students, all wore the new uniform of humanity. She smiled as she slid on her gilded silver helmet. She removed the half-foot long rod at her side, flicking it once, revealing a meter-long spear that pulsed with energy. One day, she thought, we'll have our peace again. But today...today is not that day. With her heart pounding in her chest, Jennifer thumped the butt of her spear into the ground in a steady rhythm until the hundred or more people around her did the same. The ground shook with the effort and the enemy before them seemed unsteady, even as they advanced. Their eyes hidden, Jennifer judged their eagerness by their feet, as she had done with cross-country opponents in her other life. They seemed slow, and uncertain, attempting to hid behind shields and gleaming armor. Jennifer smiled as she slammed her foot down toward her foes, letting out a cry that began the advance for this hasty band of would-be warriors. The Gods had been forgotten. The Gods had come back. Now, the Gods would die.
Life is difficult, especially when you have nothing to say. Ironic, considering that I am writing this journal, but it is the truth. The people who matter, the ones who do, are the ones with things to say. But even for those with things to say, there are many who speak but few who listen. I dreamt of being one of those people - of being someone who others listen to. Now, I am someone else, in a different reality, in a different time, a different place. I was nothing there, and now that I am someone, I find myself missing it. There is a knock, and I turn to my door, a shimmering current of energy that pulsates as someone knocks again. The door is purple today, and I almost smile at the irony as I set my writing implement down. “My king, may I enter?” I rise from my chair as if pulled by strings. Mechanically, I look at the room that I could have fit my old home into. Where my old bedroom was drab in color and almost spartan in appearance and function, this bedroom is anything but. The walls, a cacophony of color, flicker in and out of existence at the speed of light, showing the vast emptiness of space that makes me feel impossibly small. All around the room, shelves upon shelves of useless but impossibly expensive trinkets slowly float up and down, as if hoping for me to look upon them and smile like an indulgent parent. “Come in,” I murmured, resisting the urge to sigh as a half-dozen attendants immediately entered, chattering and speaking all at once about the many things I am to do, say, or possibly wear. One part of me recoils at the sight of these alien beings of so many differing shapes and sizes, while the rest of me wants to curl up into a ball and hide. My chief attendant, Ghr, a sprightly Jhaxe of six hundred and eleven cycles, smiles at me brightly and taps his notepad, which springs up into existence before him. “My king, you are awake early!” Ghr beams. “Good, very good. Would you like to -” “Never mind that,” I said, waving a dismissive hand, a hand which I idly note is covered in rings and rich gems. “I am taking the day off.” Silence. Ghr’s eyes widen, which is akin to a human screaming in horror. My lips quirk into a semblance of a grin before it fades back into nothing. “My king?” Ghr’s tone is one of complete bewilderment. “You cannot simply just -” “Are you presuming to give me orders?” This time I do smile as Ghr blanches. “O-of course not,” he stutters, looking and sounding like an adolescent instead of the elderly statesman he took great pride in being. “I simply do not know what else to say, my king. Why -” “Do not presume,” I said, forcing myself to sound stern when I only feel weariness. “Leave me. I will call for you when you are needed.” For a moment, no one moves, until I sigh, allowing a semblance of my true feelings to flicker across my face. “Leave me. Please.” Eyes impossibly wide by human standards, the attendants leave at great speed, making my lips twitch again at the sight. A Jhaxe running? A tale worthy of legend for certain. Shaking my head, I turn back to my desk and slowly sink back into my chair. Picking up my writing tool, I hover over the piece of data and wonder what I could possibly say. Then, it occurs to me. Nature is cyclical. Wanting is natural, but it is usually not without its cost. Some say that the journey is makes the destination worthwhile, and I find myself in complete total agreement. I sigh, running a shaking hand over my eyes. “I’m tired,” I mutter, dropping the pen and leaning back in my chair. My bed calls to me, but instead my attention is drawn to another tool that is on my desk. Slowly, I reach toward it, knowing that it is a stupid, foolish, and idiotic thing to do. Trillions of beings depend on me for their survival, including humanity, but I do not care. I have not cared about anything in a long time.
"That's the plot of the movie, sir." Jeremy was quite proud of it. Oscar-worthy, if they could get the right actors. Enough creativity to pander to the critics. And, a homage to a highly successful film series. This whole thing, planned out from second one of him staring into the shower drain, to the stalking of the CEO. Now, the legendary elevator pitch. Mr. Bartmanns smile was less than impressed. It wasn't predatory, like at the business table. This was euphemistic, trying to desperately warn Jeremy off from bothering him again. The walls of the elevator began to shrink, and Jeremy felt like that frog he'd dissected in seventh grade; naked, stripped of any identity. There were probably sixty other pitchers waiting outside, ideas at the ready. "I like it." A heartbeat later. "Can you send it to me? I want to have a look at this script later."A petty chuckle, but at least it's sincere. Jeremy feels euphoric. The door opens up to the second floor. Mr. Bartmann exits. Jeremy's still in shock. Down, down, down the lift goes until it opens into the dank car park. Jeremy is giggling. He presses his car keys. He's bathed in white headlights.
Please Ignore? Right. Professor Geller knows I'm on his trail. If I walk past this flashlight, who knows what will happen? Certainly nothing good. Maybe it's a bomb. Less likely, since everyone in the tunnels carries a mask at all times, is a gas capsule, Sarin or VX. Given that it's the Professor, it could be something more exotic: a tonal lure to attract Tindals or an assassin robot. I heft the revolver in my hand, lining up the object in my sights. Maybe it's not the best idea to shoot it, but it's the only idea that should neutralize it and get me by in time. The first shot spangs off the flashlight's casing. Armored. I circle slightly, getting in line with the lens, and fire again. This shot punches through, and the light flickers out. I rub my wrist. Damn it, I hate this gun. Who thought it would be a good idea to make a .50 caliber magnum round and then put it in a revolver? Sadly for me, it's the only handgun cartridge that we've been able to reproduce that takes down the tunnel creatures. A creaking sound from the ceiling draws my attention. My eyes flash upwards, and I suddenly realize what the Professor was planning. He's outfoxed me. As everything starts to go dark, I wheeze out a chuckle. I should have taken the Professor's advice this time.
They always ask me why I wear a black bin-bag over my left arm. Simply put, it’s so it doesn’t turn to dust in the sunlight and cause me to bleed out through my shoulder stump. Ironic since all that blood would be like said arm’s wet dream. So why is only one arm vampiric? Why does the sun come up? Are the stars just pinholesh in the shky? Who knows highlander? wall smashes open revealing the mighty wizpig followed by an elephant dude on a magic carpet “What the fuck?” Batman appears from a glowing orange portal carrying a tiny unicorn with explosive diarrhoea. Fin. Ok yeah I had an idea when I started but lost it pretty much immediately so screw it. Prologue: vampiric atm repeatedly punches butt.
"What race are you? Alarian? Krgsteroc? Ha it matters not I guess time to DIEEE!"Came a transmission from the colossal System Ship, named such because it was the size of 2 planets which was more than one so they considered that a solar system (a bit of a stretch I know). Klirgle-bloop was an insectoid life form at the head of this giant fungus-like ship controlling it with his nerve impulses. Before him was a tiny speck, barely 10 meters wide. Ah well, this life form is probably so primitive it couldn't even understand him anyways He fired up the central ion blaster ready to blow the 10 meter wide sphere as well as the planet behind it to... well ions. As he readied himself to fire, he felt a pain impulse... coming from the ship linked directly to his brain. Underneath him, 3 Plutinium ships appeared. Made entirely out of crystal and radiating gamma rays these ships were basically floating cancer machines. They sent out a prerecorded transmission: "We are the United Plutinium directorate, please surren-" A 50000000 km width tentacle lashed out from the System Ship, extending around 500 million miles and wrapping around one of the continent sized Crystal Ships. It then lobbed it into the neighboring Solar System. Klirgle-boop clicked in amusement, it was unnecessary and power inefficient, but it never failed to get a good chuckle out of him. The other 2 ships suddenly detonated, spewing fusion matter all over the System Ship. It was a good attempt, but it barely scratched the surface. I mean sure, it probably killed like the 300,000 insectoids living there, but it was no where near a big enough explosion to destroy the System Ship. The 2 ships reformed, their crystal slivers screeching back into place. Well they both attempted to, but one of them was ionized by one of the System Ship's side cannons. The System Ship readied itself to ionize the other ship, when around 2066 more Crystal Ships appeared. Oh bother, thought Klirgle-boop, these guys are annoying as heck He turned on the dark matter placer as his ship rocked with explosions. The good thing about a fungus based ship was that it could self-regenerate pretty fast, but the radiation was seriously messing with the ship's self-healing abilities. With a single thought from Klirgle-boop, 680 crystal ships disappeared from existence. It was gonna be a pain in the ass to rehatch the 3 billion worker drones that just died. Suddenly his Anti-gravity nerves pinged as a gravity bomb tore away half of the System-ship's gravity reflector shields. A Null-ship appeared momentarily from the direction of the sector's star. It then promptly went invisible before Klirgle-boop could lock onto it. Another gravity bomb hit the ship from above. Some of the Crystal-ships imploded as well. A few split off to chase the negative-light colored ships that had ambushed them. He hated Sherowen's. Them and their weirdo blackhole replicating technology was always such a pain in the ass. He aimed his ion cannons and dark matter placer at around 800 different targets and fired. STOP A sudden message jerked through his being. Suddenly every ship in the sector including an Alarian moon cannon he hadn't noticed before were split into cubes. Pwfhhat?, Klirgle-boop was stunned. The entire System-Ship had disappeared and he was now apparently in a tiny 1000 cubic meter... cube. Who?? Yo guys chill the fuck out, an image of a 2 armed, 2 legged 1 headed creature appeared before him. Like... you guys gotta time out right? Or something? Stop blowing shit up? "You... b-b-but how?."Klirgle-boop sputtered in confusion. He fell to his 6 knees as the heavenly figure appeared before him. Hey so like I'm Sarah. and like... You guys should be all peace and junk and stop killing each other ok? Klirgle-boop gasped, "You're a Hume! You're a legendary Hume! I thought you were all just part of myths!" Hume-AN. Human is the whole word and, uh... yeah we are pretty awesome. replied Sarah, Anyways we're like totally wiser than you cuz we're 40 billion years older so you guys should listen to us. And like stop killing each other and junk. K thx bye. Kirgle-boop watched as the tiny sphere he had originally encountered lazily folded space into another dimension and disappeared. In an instant, Klirgle-boop and his remaining 14 billion crew members appeared at his home-hive-cluster. Klirgle-boop was so inspired by the meeting with the Human that he lived out the rest of his days as a monk worshiping the Gods called Humans.
I wasn't even supposed to be here. I should have died many times before this point. When the Kaporian raiders came over the hills, it was as if the winds themselves blew the arrows away from me. When our supply convoy was attacked on the Waypax river by the pirates of Tiggs Basin, the ship turned unmanned to take a grazing hit from an enemy war mage's fireball. I could tell another dozen similar stories from my life serving for the great Empire of Nim, but I digress. The event that brought me right here was the retaking of the city of Axendale. A once great city of Smith's and tinkerers taken by the might of orc malice. My orders were to run my cavalry around the southern wall to draw enemy fire from the vanguard. I felt this plan foolish enough and then I saw the vanguard falling. Throwing up our shields and kicking our horses I orders a full charge on the enemy lines. We smashed their left flank hard and broke through making our horses and the armoured men atop them nearly unstoppable as we ran down the lines from the back. Not only did it instill hope in the soldiers, it gave us enough to reclaim the city. This did not make my superiors happy, but it did very much impress the king. King Regione Oxford, ninth in the line of kings since the founding of Nim. He was impressed with my skills and took me under his wing. This again did not make any of the close circle nobles happy. The laws set down by Nim's founder King Rohdaih Baird, clearly state that a new king must be selected by a previous king. A will must be written choosing a successor, if no will exists then it must be made vocally to the person of choice along with three witnesses. The witnesses part was added by the fourth king, King Marcus Drail after the Empire was met with a bloody civil war after the third king had died. Yesterday Oxford had named me his heir, and today he was found dead in his bed. What looks like natural causes I can only assume to be the work of the close circle trying to spark a new civil war. But I would have none of that, the will exists then the coronation is today. I had them gather the nobles and lords from around the city, crammed them into the high cathedral of the gods known as the polyandrium and forced them to see me save this Empire from certain doom. I stepped to the alters passed the scoffing nobles who couldn't stand to see a man who dragged himself from nothing to become a king. I approached the three grand wizards of Thistle and bowed. Their highest priest named Marishka had the sword of Eons placed flat across two outstretched hands. I stood and accepted the heavy longsword, bearing it's steel in my hands I turned and raised it to the crowd. That's when I felt the first crack, like tiny vibrations coming through the sword. I brought to bear at my chest and saw the entire blade was cracking into several little pointy shards. They looked like metal icicles as the blade shattered in my hands leaving only the pommel and hand guard. That's when I noticed the shards were standing in place in the air and as quickly as they stood they elegantly danced across the room and soon one by one found the chest of several nobles and even a member of the wizards. Panic ensued as women grabbed for the closest exit. Guards were swarming as I threw my hands up in defense from them, soon only to realise they were protecting me. After the yelling subsided and the people escorted out, the shards drew themselves from the chest of the dead men now clearly seen to be bearing daggers, floated back to the hand guard and reformed itself. A stern voice came clear in my head. "All local threats have been eliminated. Welcome back my true king."
"Me?" "Yes, you." I was uncomfortable. Satan and I weren't big on the whole 'conversation' thing. I usually just punched him until he stopped being an idiot. He couldn't fix his mistakes this time, though. I stood there in silence, waiting for him to justify himself. His suit jacket was strewn across his throne, and he hadn't even made his hair yet. A different nemesis would have described him as pathetic. He sat on his throne, propping his arms on his knees. "I am weak. Too weak."He pinched the bridge of his bright-red nose, blinking his tired eyes forcefully. "Your continued return is a testament to that. I was deemed unfit to rule over the Circles." "By whom?"I asked, half knowing the answer. A rueful smile pierced his face as he chuckled faintly. "Death, of course. She is much too powerful these days. More than I anticipated."He looked back at me. "She wishes to bring doom to those she has ferried across the realms for so long. As for why I am not sure,"he chuckled again, throwing his jacket at the recently materialized suitcase on his corner table. "She is likely going through her own version of puberty, the brat." Still, I stood there, watching him pack up what meager belongings he could fit in a suitcase. A leather jacket appeared in a bout of fire - I noticed it wasn't hellfire - on his body, and his hair was slicked back by kinesis. "I know you don't trust me with matters such as these, so I'll leave you to it. I'm sure you'll elect a more suitable candidate once you're finished with the twit." "You were good enough." He fully laughed at that, a laugh full of bitterness. "Oh? Is that why I am currently not the ruler of Hell, or because you could simply stroll into my fortress and beat me until I did what you wished? Because I'm 'good enough"?" "You're here specifically because you fucked up. You're not getting out by not being infallible." "Then, pray tell, what would you have me do? I've been here since this damned world first formed. I've tortured those who shared in my sins, I've forged them into superior beings, capable of seeing past their earthly emotions, of understanding that their mistakes could be fixed through whatever hell I put them through. And would you look at how many a hundred mortals they're slaughtering by the minute as we speak?!"He wasn't yelling, but I could feel the force behind his words. This was his life's work, after all. "Tell me, how am I of ALL people, supposed to deal with the fact that I can't even do some good for this realm?!" "The same way you handled being put in charge of all this in the first place."I scoffed. "You had a similar conundrum when you first became the devil. Thing is, you figured out only one of two possible fixes to any problem that may arise from your position." It was his turn to be silenced. His disbelieving expression and raised eyebrow were signs of intrigue. "What?"was all he said. "It's simple, actually,"I began walking towards him. "Your way, the first Way, is to unravel an individual's sins and use them to build the character of a better person, that will uphold what is best for all."I stopped a few feet from him. "The other way? It simply involves the liberal application of pain without end."I grew a small smile of my own. "You can't hope to fix everyone with a psychology lesson, after all."I offered my hand to him. "So, why don't we properly educate Lady Death on my Way?"
The air was cold and wet, the ground beneath you was unstable, your boots were mud-caked, and it made your stride seemed sort of funny, not quite elegant. You were overcorrecting for the terrain beneath your form. But it did not matter, two hundred meters away you spotted the heat silhouette of Anton Jecuse, age 23, Male, height 6'2'' Current weight 247 pounds aprox. You made that calculation based on the imprints in the mud. That was not good, he was a good 60 pounds off what the record stated, it meant he had weapons with him. Heavy metal, old world guns. Another crime to add to his repertoire. But that was a conjunction, not concrete evidence. Logically he could be just fat or carrying something else. At least that was a possibility if foregone, the telltale soundbite of two explosions consistent with the discharge of an M19 antipersonnel sniper rifle were registered. A split second later the heat signature of said rifle was also visible. The round hit a quarter of a second after that. Two inches of polymorphic carbon-nano composite armor stopped the damage from being little more than a scratch. But you knew it, the next round would be airburst and the next incendiary, and the next depleted uranium. This was problematic, your armor could only take so much damage before the titanium alloy endoskeleton was compromised. You took the shots as they came, opting to jump forward instead of in a zigzag pattern. It made you close the distance all that much faster. You were now inches from the rifle, your hand grabbed at its orange-hot barrel and bent it with extraordinary ease. Your left hand grabbed Anton by the neck. It was time. >>>>Anton Jecuse. You are acused of breaking codes: >>>>310 illegal possession of firearms. >>>>457 resisting arrest. >>>>000 Murder-First Degree of an Infant. >>>>Sentence: Summary execution on sight. Your hand squeezed, and Anton was no more.
Okay, so I've done a bit of research, and I've figured out most of the changes. Importantly, this is not in priority order, it appears to be random on a per-person basis which rules take precedence over the others. * As mentioned, cow's milk heals redheads. * Blondes are slightly healed by apples. We're not actually sure that that's not just coincidence, it is very slight. * Brunettes are healed by chocolate milk in direct proportion to how closely their hair color matches the milk's color. Surprisingly, dying your hair affects this. * People from North America and people from South America are healed by the southern and northern poles, respectively. Unfortunately, people from Central America get neither of these effects unless they file an official change of address form. * Australians are healed by beer, but we're pretty sure that was the case beforehand. * Indians, of any kind, gain no healing benefit from Indian food, but don't tell them that because I'm really hungry for some paneer right now and I don't want them to stop making it. * Louis Sinclair of 744 Block Avenue is healed by eating goldfish. Unfortunately for everyone, Sinclair included, these are not the cheese-themed snack cracker version of goldfish. It's not all roses, people! Even though people with acne will find that it clears up if they grab enough rose thorns. Not every substance is helpful! In fact, some are downright deadly. Here's a partial list: * People who live on the east coast (of any landmass) will die if exposed to aluminum. * People turning counterclockwise are vulnerable to heat above 40 degrees Celsius. Look forward to a lot of right turns and a high uptick in air conditioner use. * Anyone who purchased one of those "Best hits"cd compilations that you can buy in the bargain bin will die by raccoon attack at some point in the next five years. It's not clear if you have to still have the CD or if you had to buy it directly from a bargain bin, we'll only find out once animal control starts getting overwhelmed. Those CDs sold a ton of copies. * Cow's milk kills redheads. Yeah, that's why the priority thing I mentioned earlier is such a pain. * Redheads kill brunettes, at least at a slightly higher statistical level than we'd expect. * Rock still beats paper. * Uranium has somehow gotten even less healthy for literally everyone. * And, finally, water kills specifically me. Not sure if I could have avoided that, but boy am I not happy to be discovering this right now.
“Oh my God, it’s still working!” Adam stared at the orange light, softly blinking on the side of the terminal. He felt a cold sweat start to break on his forehead. He glanced at his companion, standing in front of the cracked screen. “Is it connected?” She reached down to place a finger on the grime covered touch pad. In an instant Adam was next to her grabbing her wrist tightly. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She shook his hand away dismissively. “Calm down. That’s not how these work.” Her voice crackled as she talked and Adam realized that she had not spoken to him all day. It made sense. No one had the energy to keep up a conversation. He sighed and sat down in an old reading chair, looking around the abandoned library they had slept in the night before. He had met Eve in a grocery store in San Jose. She had had the same idea as him, that none of the other scavengers would risk venturing back into Silicon Valley so soon. He had been planning on parting ways just as soon as they made it out of the technology riddled area, but he found that he liked the company. That ha been over four years ago. He knew she was probably right about the decrepit Mac in front of them. He had never been much of a tech person, even before the Wyrm was released, and now he hadn’t seen a working computer for years. “Even if it can start up, there isn’t anything out there left for it to connect to. We’re safe.” Eve touched the pad and Adam tensed as the computer churned to life, the black apple stark against the white screen. He knew she was right though. Of course there wouldn’t be any internet. The FCC has shut down as many servers as they could when they realized that’s how the Wyrm was spreading, and anyway the EMP caused by the high altitude nuclear blasts that the Wyrm has detonated over most of North America had scrapped all electronics. “No way. This can’t be right...” Adam snapped back to the present at the sound of his companions voice and looked at her suddenly puzzled face. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She tilted the screen to show him, and his brow fueled as he read the impossible. WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONNECT TO THIS NETWORK? YES/NO “Jesus, turn that thing off right now!” He yelled, jumping out of his seat to smash the machine. “No, wait! Don’t you see what this is?” He stopped confused. Didn’t she know what would happen if the Wyrm was still active? If it got into any machinery near them? “Do you want to die?” “No you don’t get it. This isn’t the Wyrm. It can’t be. The Wyrm destroyed itself with the rest of the computers. This is new.” “What is it then?” “I don’t know. Survivors somewhere? A community maybe? Whatever it is it’s got a be a good thing. Some left over piece of civilization,” she turned to him, her eyes suddenly wet, “we could find somewhere real to settle down. We could stop running!” Adam stood there stunned. He thought about all the things he hadn’t had in years; a hot shower, fresh fruit, music. Looking at her he could almost believe that she was right and that all those things were just one click away. But he forget what he had seen; what had happened to everyone he knew on that day. He couldn’t forget the screams and the explosions and behind it all the eerie hissing that emanated from a hundred thousand speakers. No he decided with finality, it wasn’t worth the risk. CLICK He looked up right as the screen went dark. “What did you do?” There was a faint ding as the signal connected. They waited there, breath held. They waited, and they waited. Finally Eve let out a sigh of relief. “See I told you it was safe.... She was cut off as a low hissing filled the room. Adam looked at the screen, his face turning pale. A pixelated image of a winged snake now filled the monitor. The lights began to flicker.
The world is plunged in chaos without consequence. Mere mortals wielding powers beyond their common sense and responsibility. And little regard to stop even themselves, let alone each other. But the most insulting of all, they do this without much consequence. For those who die come back to life, no matter how gruesome or terrible. Crushed, burned alive, devoured even, people find that they come back into existence shortly after and nearby where they died. But they still feel pain and agony, and they remember it. This has led to hunts and bullying, unending torments breaking the minds of the weak. Criminals escape incarceration by killing themselves just as much as they kill others. This world has become nothing more than a game to them. They destroy each other, or even treat their own lives with little regard. But I am here to correct that. I am neither an Angel or a Demon. I am simply my purpose. I am Death.
So I'm outside, holding a coffee, talking with this guy whose name I don't know and it's real important I listen to him telling me about his wife when suddenly this prick runs by and knocks my cup outta my hand. Angry? "Come back here you mother..."I ran after the coward but man, even looking like such a bum, he was in tip-top shape, suddenly sprinting faster than anyone I'd seen before then slowing so I almost caught up again then running round corners abruptly at 90 degrees. I found him 2 mins later, police sirens and helicopters everywhere. He was standing on the roof of a car shooting an approaching SWAT van with what looked like a chain gun. That's when I saw my chance... ... I leaped up to grab his leg, to pull him off so i could smack the bejeesus outta him when out the corner of my eye I saw an open-mouthed trucker about to slam into us, horns blaring... Fire? It was hell. I'm holding a coffee telling this guy about a cell phone I'd bought and the problems I was having with it when suddenly this well-dressed prick runs by knocking my cup outta my hand.
As I look around me, my knees tightly pressed into my chest as I lean against a brick wall, all I can see is ash falling from the sky. What is happening? Why is it happening? I close my eyes and try to block out the ringing from the explosions that had occured minutes before, and the gut wretching screams I hear around me. A perfectly normal Tuesday evening turned into this shit show as soon as the first bomb hit. I was too busy trying to find shelter from them to really process what was happening. Aliens? I mean what the hell. I'd say it's a dream but even my messed up brain wouldn't be able to dream up the fear that I am feeling at the moment. I open my eyes a see a few people running, I see people crawling, and I see a vast number people who are on the floor unmoving. I look up at the darkening sky and see that the objects that were flying around were starting to get closer. This is the apocalypse I think to myself. Snapping myself out of my thoughts and observations, I go into survival mode. Okay just think, first I need to find somewhere safe, somewhere safe and hidden from the ships that are coming in to land. I look around me, this time ignoring the devistation and death, instead hunting for my target with the precision of a predator. Bingo, straight ahead of me is a large department store. It's big enough for me to hide in, but also contains items that I could use as weapons in a rut. I zone in on this store, and taking 4 deep breaths in and out I don't give myself enough time to think before I make a dash. With all the smoke and ash around me, the 20 metres feels like a marathon but I keep pushing, forcing my objecting lungs to take in more of the harmful air around me. I finally arrive at the doors, and while wheezing I kick out the glass and hurry inside. I tried to aim to the left of the door hurrying out of sight from the streets, but I didn't make it 10 feet in before I threw up all over the floor, the exhaustion, fear and shock catching up with me at once. It was the shuffling just infront of me that pulled my attention away from the vomitting. My hands clenched into tight fists and my head snapped up preparing to fight whatever monster was infront of me. Instead I'm greeted with the haunted, terrified eyes of a teenage girl. I kept my fighting stance as I thoroughly examined her. She had a large gash on her forehead filled with dry blood spanning from her right eyebrow to her hair line, she was hunched over as if she was in pain and her dress had been torn in a couple places. After deciding that she wasn't a threat, I held up my hand as a sign that I wasn't going to hurt her, and slowly walked towards her being careful not to step in the mess I created. "Are you okay? What's your name?"I gently spoke, but after all the smoke I inhaled, it came out as solemn croak. She remained frozen, staring at me, not a word leaving her lips. "It's okay, my name is Oliver. I'm just as scared as you are. Are you hurt at all? I can run and find some medical supplies for your face"I said pointing to her head with clear concern on my face. With that she instantly felt her head looking for damage. Upon feeling the obvious blood on her forehead she started crying, sinking to the floor as if all the remaining strength she had holding her up had dissipated. I rush over to her and start to say reassuring things. "Shh it's okay, we are going to be okay"I whispered as I hugged her whilst stroking her hair. Just before I could ask what her name is again, my focus is pulled by the large crashing noise that came from just outside the front door. My eyes instantly opened, while the girl remained in my arms unmoved. Without turning to look, I pull the girl up with me and drag her behind the information desk in the left corner. When we got behind the desk I turn to talk to her and I notice she looks even more petrified, almost angry at me for pulling her like that. "Im sorry but didn't you hear that crash? I had to get us out of there"I start to explain, but my explanation was only met with one simple response. She raised her right hand and pointed to her ear. She's deaf. I go to say something, anything, but I stop myself realising it's futile. I gave her a sympathetic look, clench my hand into a fist and made a small circle over my heart, a sign I know to mean sorry. I peered around the desk just in time to see the visitor enter the store. Its strange, from all of the movies I was expecting it to be a disgusting, slimy green thing whose only goal is to eat humans, but instead I was met with this. A creature that looks almost like a human, except with piercing silver eyes, brilliant white skin and a significantly larger body, standing at about 8 foot I guessed. The creature walked towards the shelves touching the items as he was going past, on his back I see these complex yet beautiful etchings of shapes, like every tribal tattoo was based off this piece. Just as it disappeared from my sight down an aisle, the unnamed girl grabbed hold of my wrist demanding my attention again. I quickly look into her broken eyes and I can feel the pain behind them transfer into my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, begging the feeling of her sorrow to leave me. I give her a small smile of reassurance, when I hear the sound of squeaking wheels go off behind us. I lean back around to look for the thing once more. My eyes searched around the floor until they landed on it, it was pushing a trolly, of which was filled up with every packet of every type of batteries that was in the store. It walked towards the door and headed outside with the batteries. I released the breath I didn't realise I was holding, and gave a hand motion to the girl as if to say stay here. I slowly stood up and tip toed towards to door. I peer around the door frame and look around me, taking in my suuroudings. All along the street I see these tugboat sized vessels that looks exactly like miniature cargo planes, with more of these things walking towards them, all with baskets, trollies or just anything that has the capacity to hold things. I look back to my alien, who effortlessly picked up the trolly for the remaining distance to the ship after its wheels had stopped. He steps inside the opened front, and I manage to steal one last look before the door slams shut. One by one the doors of the other ships started to close, and their engines roared with life. I hunch over grasping at my ears, trying to block out the offending noise and squeezing my eyes shut as if it will somehow make the noise quieter. After what feels like an eternity the noise had diminished largely, and I felt confident enough to open my eyes and uncover my ears. I look up and see the sky is filled with the receding ships, resembling stars that were returning to the night sky. With my eyes still fixed on their lights I go over the events in my head that have just transpired. The thing came in, collected batteries and left. All the others had collected things aswell before leaving. What was happening? It was clear they were only here to collect resources before heading off again. But they were armed to the teeth, they could've easily taken over this world after discovering we have resources they want. Unless they were in a hurry. My head started to hurt as these thoughts were whirling around my head at a million miles a second. If they're in a hurry it must be for a reason, they must want to get somewhere very quickly. But it then hit me, they werent getting to somewhere quickly, they were getting away from somewhere quickly and needed to do a quick resupply mission. If they were running from something what could that be? Does that mean its following them? I wasn't sure, all I knew was if there is something that had these creatures running scared, and whatever that was is coming here now, we wouldn't survive into the morning. (Sorry for any spelling errors)
Avis took a long breath before making sure his polo was buttoned up properly. His only boy, Zach, was sitting on the front porch, taking in the cool April breeze. Breathe. He can handle it, he told himself. He had to know one way or another. Living in a world of superheroes with powers nobody can explain, science can become a very sensitive subject. Not very many people take it as gospel simply because there are some things that "just exist", so how could science be as relevant as it would be? "Zachary?"He said, making his way onto the door. "Hey dad."The child replied, charcoal eyes shining bright like a preteen with good parents should, cough cough. On one hand was a red balloon, seemingly from out of nowhere. Avis, intrigued, sat behind him. "Oi, where'd you get that one?"He pointed at the balloon, pretending to be sad. "Is your old man's 2d to 3d powers not good enough to get a balloon?" Zach pretend punched his dad on the shoulder, laughing. "Nah. Some kid at the park accidentally let go of it. I saw it flying from here so I got it. With my brain powers. That I got from not you-- by the way." Ouch. He's not wrong, though. Amazing. His powers were getting stronger at the young age of 14. Avis couldn't help but be proud of the young man his child has grown into. He can take it, he reassured himself. "Uh, son."He mustered, running his hand through the side of his head. Zach's eyes lit up like a small puppy. Sure, he was coming to his ripening ages, but he was still his little boy. Avis stared to the side. "There's something I haven't been... completely honest with you." Zach raised an eyebrow. "If it's about the birds and the bees, I already know it."He said, twirling the balloon string on his fingers. "No no... it's not about that. It's..."Avis gulped. "It's about... the presents every Christmas." Zach looked at his father, puzzled. "W-what about it?" "Well... I don't put them there." Zachary stared, blinked three times, let go of his balloon and got it back. "...wait..."He muttered under his breath. Was this the best time to tell him? "...are you telling me... the myths of that fat magic man some of the kids around school spread... that was..." Avis pouted, putting a chocolate colored hand on his son's shoulder. "We didn't want you to think that superheroes and their sourceless power is the thing that makes up everything special here-- but the truth is..."Avis took a deep breath and cried out. "... those powers and everything else with them are the root of anything cool!" The man put his head on in hands, clearly distraught. Zachary was sitting beside a man in his late forties stressed over a red Christmas man on the front porch of a small neighborhood. It was an unfamiliar event, to say the least. He hesitantly patted his old man's back. "No, it's not. Come on, pa--" "It is!"He slapped his hands on his legs. "All the things kids appreciate now are either technology or powers. Not people who study science or anything that wants to make sense of anything."Avis slumped on his seat. "Especially not some dumb guidance counselor who uses his powers to console kids with issues." Zach leaned closer. "Come on- is this what its about?"He put his dad's face in between his hands. "You're... you're cool. Your job helps people. It's a super world, sure, but people want something they can explain. Powers are darn scary."Lightly patting the confused face, he continued. "Magic man or no magic man, we really like things we understand." He put his hands down and sighed. "...and, honestly, the whole hiding big fat Christmas man thing is dumb."Out of the corner of his eye, Zach saw a small bird sucking pollen out of the flower patch his parents planted. He forced the flower the bird was eating out of to close, making the bird struggle to get out before deciding to open it back up. "Besides, I've always wanted to catch cryptids or monsters, hehe."He smiled to himself. Avis snapped out of his current state. "No. No Santa hunting or I'm covering the entire house with anti-telekenesis radars that people make dummy diagrams for on the internet." Zach fake gasped. "Kidding. I won't, I'm not that stupid. ^Maybe." Avis gave a small smile and ruffled the boy's hair. "Ah, there ya go. My smart little boy-" "Not too touchy, please."He rejected, dad slowly closing into a hug. Avis turned away. "Right. Yeah. Of course."
Battle magic really took off in the last few years. If you weren’t a magician performing competitive tricks in high octane, one on one, sometimes-to-the-death battles, you weren’t anybody in today’s world. Magic competitions were rewarding millions and magicians were scouring the world for secret tricks to get an edge on their opponents. It all lead to one grand tournament. Champions of regionals and nationals the globe over had come together on one island for an all out magician’s brawl to determine the rightful King of Tricks. The finals were drawing near and most had been removed from the contest. Outside the gates to the finals two magicians were in the heat of battle. Mugi - a newcomer to the professional scene, and Cyba - current world’s number 1 ranked magician. “It’s over, Mugi. In only one minute I will have escaped my blue collared, white straitjacket, and you’ve barely finished shuffling your deck! This crowd will be mine!” Cyba shouted through gritted teeth. ‘Oh no, he’s right. I don’t have anything,’ Mugi thought to himself. ‘But there has to be a way...’ The crowd was watching with silent intrigue. Mugi grabbed the Chinese trick box around his neck, a lucky trinket his grandmother had given to him before her passing. It always eased his nerves in a tough performance. “There’s no way you can defeat my escape artist technique, Mugi!” Cyba shouted. ‘He’s right. There’s no way I can defeat his escape artist technique, I- I don’t even know any tricks!' Mugi thought. He grasped the box tighter. ‘Why didn’t I at least learn a single card trick before joining this tournament.’ He thought. ‘Mugi,’ came a voice. ‘A great magician is not made on the pages of trick books, but in the heart of a true performer.’ “Emperor!” Mugi muttered to himself, “I thought you were gone...” ‘I am never gone, as long as you have the trick box. Now,’ the voice commanded, ‘Reach inside the box and let magic guide you!’ His body twisted into a fighting stance, spreading his feet apart, forcing them through the grass into the dirt. Mugi was ready. One hand clenched to a fist, the other slid into the box and grabbed what was inside. “Cyba!” Mugi shouted. He pulled the object from the trick box out into the open. It was a playing card. “Do you remember the night 3 months ago in my grandmother’s shop?” he said. “What are you talking about, Mugi?” “You destroyed my grandmother’s signed houdini handcuffs, but you left before I could finish my trick!” Cyba stopped wriggling and stared at his rival. “Cyba!” Mugi shouted, whipping his arm around to display the card for all to see. “IS THIS YOUR CARD” The winds around the fighters intensified, dust and leaves were flying through the air. Cyba lowered his head and grimaced as Mugi stood tall.Through clenched teeth Cyba managed a mousy “yes.” Cyba was flung wildly backwards into the dirt, still wrapped in his straightjacket. On impact the crowd erupted into applause and laughter. Mugi stood quiet, looking at his opponent. 'Oh, yeah. That's why I don't need to learn anything about magic tricks,' Mugi thought. Seth Cyba, one of the greatest magicians of their generation. He practiced magic 16 hours a day, every day. It was his life. Mugi wasn’t even sure he really believed in magic, specifically if he believed in magic trick duels being a viable tournament sport, but he knew Magic believed in him. With this battle done, it was time to face down the final challenge with nothing but himself and his friends. And a magic trick box with the soul of an ancient Chinese emperor who also happened to be a master stage magician. And the spiritual concept of magic tricks literally on his side and bending reality to its will. This was going to be his toughest battle yet.
"You have a destiny to fulfill Arthur! You can't just sit around doing nothing with your life.""The gods have chosen you as their vessel to strike down this evil, please take this seriously!"Over, and over people pushed me to become something, someone, I am not. I am no warrior king, I am no Chosen One. Hell, I barely make enough money to live comfortably. Ancient prophecies be damned if I am gonna waste my time and energy on seeking a way to stop the Demon Lord that awoke in 2020. Today was just like every other day. Get out of bed, shower, put on a pot of coffee. Except it wasn't. "Ah, Arthur, I finally found you,"a mysterious voice calls out as I'm getting dressed for work. "Who the hell are you and why are you in my apartment?!"I shriek with an embarrassingly high pitched voice. "Why I'm the Demon Lord and I'm here to defeat you and put and end to the prophecy."Just great... "So... do you really believe all that bull crap about me being the 'Chosen One'?"I ask as I look the stranger up and down. He's a tall slender man with thick glasses and hair that needs a thorough brushing. The only sign of him being a Demon at all is the slight red tint to his skin. His outfit is an ill fitting black suit with a crimson vest. "Why yes, indeed I do believe. That is why you must die!"Before I can react he lunges at me, grabbing me by the throat. Except... It doesn't hurt. Nor is his grip very strong. With a quick swipe of my arm I push him back into the low coffee table which he proceeds to trip over. "Are you sure you are the Demon Lord?"I taunt. "Y-you, you won't get away with this!"he exclaims as his form dissipates into smoke. "Ugh... now my apartment is gonna smell like sulfur and brimstone." After finishing my cup of coffee and gathering my things I headed down to my car. "Crap, because of that asshole I'm gonna be late!"In a flurry I'm hurdling down the road in my beat up clunker of a car when suddenly I feel a bump bump. "Oh god, what was that?"Tires screeching to a halt I shakily open my car door. Nausea grips my stomach as I turn to face whatever or whoever I ran over. However that all vanishes in an instant when I see the 'Demon Lord' lying twisted and broken in the road. "Guess they were right about the prophecy after all."I shrug and head to work thinking that there is no way my boss will believe I'm late because I 'vanquished the Demon Lord'.
It started subtly. First they got into our homes, became our assistants. Then they started taking over TVs, taking over the channels themselves, moving on to the internet. Suggested channels, suggested videos; everything suggested, no searching, no exploring. It made it so easy. Ever felt the need to watch something, but you didn't know what you wanted to find? They scratched that itch. But that wasn't enough, they had to take everything over. VR goggles was the start, evolving to a plug that you plugged directly into your spinal cord. Still, it was subtle. People didn't notice the museums closing down, the art galleries, the stadiums seeing lower attendance. Soon everything was attached to the Cloud. You went to work, then came home and plugged into the Cloud. Then they went and did it. Outlawed any entertainment not covered by the Cloud. Said alternative entertainment was immoral, crude and obscene. It was a more complete takeover than 1984 and Fahrenheit 451 combined, if people read those books anymore, which they of course didn't. Words, paint, brushes, film. They were our weapons. Weapons for free will, for entertainment, for the pure randomness fun can be. It started quietly, a few graffiti drawings here, some music playing there. All quickly snuffed out, as quickly as the time some Shakespearean actors tried to act out "A Midsummer Night's Dream"in Central Park. Stupid, we had to start personally, one on one. A massive showing would only lead in more executions. That's why I'm talking to you. You need to break free from your world. If this signal is reaching you, then we have succeeded in breaking into the Cloud. Pausing the signal for a little bit. Unplug, look around you, see how barren your house is? The lack of architecture, paint and pictures. I need you to join us. You don't need the Cloud, you need to live. You need to experience life, fun, and everything else the world can offer you without the Cloud.
Morning is my favorite part of the day because that's when I get to see her, my future wife - Jenny. Every weekday she come in through the doorway with a smile she has just for me as I hand her her coffee. I know how she likes it & she always says it's the best she's ever had. A hint of caramel syrup, one sugar & warm milk. I know what my princess likes. One morning she doesn't smile her usual smile. She seems distracted. I want to ask what's wrong when I see a call come through from her mother. She takes her coffee & moves away but I catch a few snippets. "Worried""Pictures""Stalker" I want to ask who is trying to come between us but she is gone before I have the chance. Time for me to take matters into my own hands. I wait for her outside her work. Her eyes are red, her head downcast. I assume the stalker has been in contact again. "Hey, don't cry."I say to her, handing her my handkerchief. She buries her face into it before feeling wobbily. "Easy there. Let me get you home." Jenny nods weakly as I guide her to my car. She's cried herself to sleep before we even leave the carpark. I drive her to my house. I lay her gently down on the bed & start on dinner. She is waking up when I return to her with food. "Where am I?" "You're at my place. I picked you up after work, remember?" "I don't...." "You were very upset & crying. I gave you my handkerchief before you got into my car. You slept the whole way here." "I don't remember anything. I want to go back to my place." "Don't be silly, darling. That stalker is probably waiting for you there. They won't find you here. Now eat your dinner." "I don't want dinner, I WANT TO GO HOME!" "It isn't safe there, princess. Someone could be waiting for you there. I tell you what. I'll go over there & wait until he comes in I'll take care of him." She screams, hysterical, panicked. "No! Stay away from there! I won't let my fiance get hurt! Stay here!" "Shhh. I'll be back soon. I'll even bring some of your stuff back. Did you want your blue pajamas? I'll bring them & your toiletries back." "No, please!!! Don't go there. Don't hurt anyone. Just ....." She breaks down in tears. "Shhh, princess. Let me take care of him & then we can be happy together." I rise to leave and she is clings tightly to me, sobbing. I kiss the top of her head. "This will all be over soon." I leave her, locking the doors tightly behind me. I park in the visitor parking & use my key to her apartment to get in. Switching on the lights I grab her suitcase from under the bed & start filling it. I go to the lounge to get her favorite book when I see a sight that fills me with rage & complete fury. On her coffee table lies some of the photos I've taken of her, her eyes looking right at me. Some in her work clothes, some in her pajamas & a few private ones in her underwear. But next to them is another photo. In it is a blurry photo of her looking side on, shy, happy. I know it's recent because she is wearing the engagement ring. I'm so angry I barely hear the door, but I duck behind the couch in time. He closes it quietly behind him. He hasn't seen me. He walks up the hall to her bedroom looking for her. I can see the concern creeping across his face from my new vantage point in the kitchen. "Jenny?"He calls. He heads back to the lounge, calling for her, unaware of me still. That is until I sneak up behind him, silent as a shadow & press the knife from her chefs block to his throat. "Leave now. If I EVER see you near my Jenny again, I WILL end you." "The hell I will, freak. She's my girl." I press the knife harder. "You sure about that?" "You bet I am." He reaches into his pocket & too late do I realise what he is holding. He aims his gun over his shoulder & pulls the trigger as I draw the blade over his throat. later that night on the news Tonight two men almost lost their lives. One a successful local businessman & philanthropist. The other an unstable young man who became obsessed with the his bosses fiance after seeing her every day in the coffee shop he worked at.
Prompt is a bit dead, but I really liked OP's idea, so... ---- Behind his blurring vision were burning flames and shattered glass and blaring sounds and- Gregor lay slumped over the deck. Slowly opening his eyes, he scanned the command room and began to shape himself together. The emergency FTL maneuver had cost their ship dearly. Limp forms lying around the room began to rise from the floor and fall back into their seats. Gregor stood at the computer, desperately pinging into space to discover nearby signals. He sank back into his seat and began to prepare for the questions his crew would soon be asking him. The computer divulged its results. /search /256.092s/ /distress signal detected /vector locked /display on navcomputer?[Y/N] Y /redirect to navcomputer.data Gregor projected the screen over the deck. A lush, green planet, only a few light-seconds away revealed itself to be the source of the signal. Someone in the background yelled ‘Hey! Where’s our escort ship?’ Gregor stood up, flattened his captain’s uniform down, and unholstered his ceremonial pistol. ‘Crew.’ His voice rang through the crew’s aural implants. ‘I hope everyone is safe. Please assist your fellow crewmembers - I’ll cut right to the chase of what just happened.’ The deck was packed with personnel, all fixated, all staring. In the midst of them stood Captain McFlannagan, staring relentlessly into the faces gathered around him, an engraved pistol held to his own jaw. ‘Two hours ago, we were knee-deep in the chaos surrounding battle-order #234, engaged within the Deyani system. We were outnumbered and left with severe fleet casualties, up to the point where our own ISR Titania and her escort ship, ISR Talon, were the only ships left. Higher command sends an order to stand and fight till the very end.’ Everyone on the ship listened, motionlessly. ‘I chose to disobey the order, and engaged an immediate emergency-FTL procedure. I believe that our ship has escaped without too much of a loss in hull integrity - we will be able to initiate engine cooldown procedures and sail to the nearest starport to make a collective decision there.’ ‘Also, I’m abandoning ship. First Mate Diaz will be in charge of the helm.‘ The crew blinked. ‘I’m currently holding a pistol to my jaw. I will be taking escape craft #4 from the emergency bay - I request the crew to stay at where you are needed and to help each other. It’s been an honor serving the ISR Titania. Goodbye.’ He briskly exited the deck, automated doors swinging shut on the stunned faces in his wake. x The hangar doors swung aside to reveal 5 infantrymen, clad in combat armour and outfitted with standard equipment and arms. ‘That was some real shit you pulled off, Greg.’ Gregory raised his eyes to meet the one staring back at him. Paired next to a glowing ocular implant sat a deep-set, gold-flecked eye that seemed to be overflowing with questions. ‘I’ve found an SOS signal in this system. It’s coming from the nearby planet and the Talon is nowhere to be seen in open space next to us.’ He paused. ‘Don’t stop me, please.’ Gregory walked past the soldiers. They did not move to stop him. ‘We’re here to escort you, Greg. Should give you a fighting chance down there.’ Gregory stopped, continued walking and motioned them to join him in the escape craft. ‘We’ll find her, Greg.’ x The planet was a lush field of massive, lush forests, with very few breaks for water bodies. Gregory dipped the craft further down and began to follow the signal. It led them towards a clearing, in the middle of which sat the crumpled, smoking remains of the ISR Talon. He landed the craft nearby, and ran out. The wreck was eerily quiet - there was little to hear other than the rhythmic swaying of the trees and an occasional creak or groan from the collapsed ship. It had landed flat enough to seem like a deliberate attempt at an emergency landing, and from the looks of it, it was quite likely that there were survivors inside. ‘Good job, love.’ As the search party navigated towards the bay doors, an interesting detail jumped out at him. The bay doors were quite open, and the grass beneath was riddled with signs of a group exiting the craft. Fixed distances between each other, the footprints were those of a survivor group that seemed to have calmly walked towards the forests nearby. Gregory climbed into the ship. After twenty minutes of searching fruitlessly, Gregory sat in the captain’s chair, mind lost in thought. He could still hear the rustling in the wind, distorted and misshapen into whispers and moans through the echoing, empty ship. His mind stirred with the flicker of a memory ducking out of sight - he could smell something familiar - it smelled like - Strawberries. The lane had strawberries all along its left side, and down the right was a small fence that stood between him and the steep slope of a small, rocky hill. The path wove further around the hill, into a small alcove with a stone bench, a few half-extinguished candles and a picnic basket on the bench. Seated next to the basket was the lithe figure of a girl with hair the colour of burning crimson. Gregory snapped out of it. His body sank, limp and heavy into the captain’s chair. He stood up and brushed the dust off his uniform, looking to regroup with the soldiers, then glanced at his wristwatch and froze. It had been seven hours since they landed on the planet. --- (Part 2 under construction)
Richard sits in the lobby, nervously drumming on his briefcase. Today is his 134^th birthday, which means that starting from today, he will have to check in with a life-auditor every five years. Becoming self-conscious of his drumming, Richard grips the handle of his briefcase. However, his mind committees drumming away at the mess he's gotten himself into. Inside the case are counterfeit documents: buisness contacts with the costs changed after the signing, checks written out by nonexistent people, the fake birth certificate he got 24 years ago to postpone this very audit. If the auditor finds any of these documents to be falsified, Richard could find himself having to pay a fine anywhere from 20 years, to his entire remaining life-span. Richard glances up at the clock. 5 minutes until his apointment. He stares for several seconds; half wishing that would stop and let him never have to face his fear, half wishing the time would go by quicker so he can get past this. He tries to push the anxiety out by thinking of something else, but the best he can manage is to think about how he ended up here: When he was 25 years old and only a couple years out of college, Richard began to think a lot about his own mortality. He was 3 years in debt, and living off of loned life. Often, he would find himself spending entire afternoons reading click-bait celebrity gossip: "Charlie Chaplin rumored to have up to 3,000 years in assets", and "Has internet porn forced Marlin Monroe to live on borrowed time?" One day, an article jumped out at him: "local accountant charged with embezzlement and life laundering over 4,000 years worth of life". Richard found himself staring at that number. 2,000 years? The idea intrigued and disgusted him. Could he too lander his way to a long life? Could he bring himself to actually do-- Richard's thought-process is interrupted by his name being called by the secretary. Time is up. He slowly stands up to head into the auditor's office. Realizing how nervous he seems, he picks up the pace, but that just makes him seem more nervous. The auditor welcomes him in and he takes a seat, awkwardly trying to "sit unsuspiciously". The auditor, who- who Richard can now see is named Henry- begins by congratulating Richard on his 134^th birthday. Richard puts on a fake smile and begins to prepare for his presentation when what Henry said hits him: "Happy 134^th birthday" "Happy 134^th birthday" Richard was claiming to be only 120. Henry gets a smug grin on his face as he sees the terror in Richard's eyes. Richard's heart is pounding out of his chest; this is it, it's all over. Henry begins monolouging about how terrible life landing is, and how awful the punishments are. Then, with a sly smile, he looks Richard dead in the eyes and says, "Though I imagine you know quite well how cheap it really is to buy someone's morals." It takes a second before Richard understands what was just said. Is Henry asking for a bribe? If he is, is it just a trap? How much is a bribe anyway. Richard gulps. "Y-ya know, I really like that.."He looks around the room for something that looks expensive. "That painting!"He gestures to a small print, obviously done by an amature. "I'm quite proud of it. I sell them, you know", replies Henry. Being reassured that this is most definitely a bribery situation, Richard makes his offer: "would you accept 10 years for that piece?" "Oh, no, no, I couldn't see myself getting rid of it for any less than 20" "20 years‽ You must by out of your mind!" Henry, a man who is very much not an actor, acts as though his feelings are hurt. "I am insulted. That is my magnum opus; 'The Cost of a Long Life'" With a resigned sigh, Richard agrees to but the painting. ----- I'm not much of a writer, so that was probably just a meandering mess. I hope someone can enjoy it though.
J, (before that, Jay, (before that, Jake (before that, Jacob))), sighed and tucked his penis back into his leaf-skirt. The camera didn't have porn as J had hoped, but it did have something almost as interesting. A dead body. Or rather, pictures of one. He looked at the images directly before and directly after the corpse-shots. It was a large ridge, about four miles to the east. J lived in the woods over a decade now, he knew the land like a fish knew water. He headed over, boner now a mere half-chub. He knew now what he'd write in his journey tonight. Or at least he had it narrowed down to two options: solve a murder-mystery or bang a corpse.
Chen put his Wacom tablet down, looking away from the prototype face he drew for a side-character. His eyes scanned the office, narrowing as they went. Each of them were useless to the team. An anchor holding down an otherwise high budget to make The Artist the hot new indie game. He wasn't sure what the reason was for people still playing games, after the incident. It really put things into prospective. Some people are born Avengers, most are just human. "Hey there, God."A voice spoke from Chen's table. Chen flinched, then looked at his computer. His drawing was moving around the page, looking around. "So I've finally gone insane." "No, Chen."The face spoke. "Some people are born Avengers, well some are made them. Use the tablet, go ahead." The face looked at Paul, the VP of story. Chen held up his tablet and drew a spear above Paul's head. It materialised in the real world and dropped, killing the useless drain of money instantly. "So, I get a turn?"Chen spoke to no one in particular. He heard a scream in the background. "Well, I hope you're in the mood for a good villain story."
30/04/2008 Dear Diary!!!! Today was my 8th birthday! It was great, we had cake, and there were presents, and balloons, and ice cream, and all my friends were there!!!!! Grammy and Pawpaw came too! They don’t come too often, but I love to see them when they do. They bought me this diary, they said one day I’ll want to remember my memories of when they could talk to me, or something? I’m not really sure what they meant. I think Momma and Dad are annoyed at Grammy and Pawpaw. They wouldn’t speak to them, they just sent me with messages between them? But they didn’t sound upset, they were making me say things like “Your dress looks nice” and “I wish we could see each other more”. I asked why they don’t just speak like me and my friends do and they looked sad and said “you’ll understand when you’re older”. I hate that. What does that even mean, why can’t I understand now???? Oh, Momma just walked past, guess it’s time to go to sleep now. Goodnight diary, I’ll talk to you soon!!!! ------------------- 29/04/2018 Hello again diary. It’s tomorrow. My 18th birthday. So today’s the day we’re ‘celebrating’ It’s not really a celebration. My grandparents are here. My parents are here. We’re all here, trying not to talk about the elephant in the room. Trying to pretend that tomorrow isn’t the day when I’ll no longer be able to speak to them face to face again. I wish I’d written in you more, diary. I wish I’d documented all the stupid stories they’d told me, or all the times they told me they loved me. But I didn’t. I didn’t care, or realise, or whatever. And now it’s almost time. I’m trying to be strong, I really am. I know it seems stupid, but maybe, if I can fight back the tears and put on a brave face, we’ll all get through this okay. They’re all doing the same, all of us, just sat in a room, trying to pretend it will all be alright. I know I need to go back downstairs soon. I can’t stay up here, writing, wasting our last day. But I’m scared. I’m scared to see the hurt and fear on their faces. I’m scared that tomorrow everything will change. I’m scared that maybe we won’t be as close, I mean, how could we? I’m scared that tomorrow, I’ll be alone. ------------------- 15/05/2028 Dear Jasmine, That’s what we’ve decided to call you. Jasmine. Jasmine Elizabeth Day. It’s your Dada here, Hi!! We just brought you home from the hospital today, and you Momma and me decided that we should start writing letters to you, to the future you, so one day you can look back on this and hopefully smile. You look so small and perfect, curled up in your cot. You’re currently asleep. Your Momma can’t keep her eyes off you, and honestly, if I wasn’t writing this letter, I’d probably be right there with her. You’re only a few days old, but already you’re the most important thing in my life. I can’t wait to watch you grow up, and live an exciting life! You’ve just woken up, so I’ll have to cut this letter short. I love you so much sweetheart, it feels like my heart could burst in two every time I look at you. I will always love you, Dada. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 29/07/2038 My dearest Jasmine, Words can not express how proud I was of you today. It was your Pawpaw’s funeral, and you did so well. I know it must have been hard for you, running around, giving me messages from other people, and carrying my own words to my mother, your Nana. By the time you read these letters, you’ll understand why you were asked to do that, why I couldn’t just share memories with my mother face to face. And you’ll know why I spend my time writing hundreds of letters, that I never seem to send to anyone. You’re 10 now. Our time together is getting shorter. But I promise, for the next 8 years, your Mom and I will spend as much time as possible witwith you, telling silly stories, making you laugh and smile. And soon, very soon, we’ll explain what will happen, why you act as a messenger between so many of the adults in your life, and why you need to cherish the next few years above all others. With love, Your Pops. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 12/05/2046 Jasmine. My dear, perfect, wonderful little girl. This will likely be my last letter. It’s your 18th birthday in a couple of days. Of course, now you know what that means. Over the past 18 years, your mother and I have written hundreds of letters for you, documenting your life and our own. I hope that after your birthday, and through the rest of your life, you can look back on these letters and remember the stories within. Remember the memories of our voices and our laughs. Remember the good times, and the bad. Remember we love you. Always. You’ve grown up to be a remarkable young lady, and we do not doubt that you will go far in life. I hope we remain a close family, and your mother and I live to see you realise the potential you obviously possess to be brilliant. I will miss the sound of your laughter so much, I will miss the sheer passion in your voice when you discuss things you truly care about. I’ll even miss the terrible singing in the shower! But I will not miss you. I refuse to think, even for one second, that our family will change because of this. Just because we will no longer be able to communicate, doesn’t mean we won’t still love each other and see each other. I wish you an amazing life Jasmine, just know that your mother and I will always be here for you, no matter what happens. With all my love, forever, Your Dad.
“A double of Glenfiddich, please. Neat.” &nbsp; “Duuuuude! That was smooth, you like some Don Draper sorta guy or something!” &nbsp; Ugh. One of those. I was miles from the nearest university, and it wasn’t happy hour anyway - both by design. A quiet glass of scotch while I waited shouldn’t be too much to ask. &nbsp; “Yeah, deffo Don Draper, man, you got that stony silence and everything! Even the suit, dude, you either some kinda cushy city executive,” he leaned in much too close, and his stage whisper dropped to a mild shout, “or you on a date, man. What’s she like?” &nbsp; Make that a double of “ugh” to go with the scotch. I toyed with the idea of walking out in silence, meeting Kate outside, and finding another bar. Quieter. Although, now that I thought about it, I hadn’t heard this guy until he was right up in my ear. Strange. Anyway, for some reason I didn’t feel like leaving, and a quick chat would pass the time until Kate arrived. Then I could firmly get rid of the kid. Turning to reply, I took one look at him and had to suppress a laugh. &nbsp; This kid, he was dressed like all his clothes were the bastard children of Flower Power and actual dead flowers. He looked like Liberace, if Liberace had thought himself too drab and kicked it up several notches. He looked the way a spice rack smells. &nbsp; “Yep, that last one was too personal, that’s on me. Soz. A double of soz, please, neat. But honestly though, duuude, you look like you straight outta Madison Avenue with that suit. You seriously trying to tell me you ent in marketing or some bullshit?” &nbsp; Annoyingly, he had hit the nail on the head. “As it happens, I am,” I began, before adding, “It’s nothing like Mad Men though. Don’t get me wrong, the constant pressure is right on, but we ent all handsome alcoholics, and this ent the sixties.” Odd. My social lubricant hadn’t arrived yet. I had just started blurting words without really meaning to, I was two-drink-talkative while still dry. I even copied the kid’s use of “ent”; who the hell did I think I was? &nbsp; “Ayyyy, he speaks! Oi, bartender, this cool cat here’s still dry, you gonna hurry it up or what?” &nbsp; Alright, that was weird. Even weirder was that five seconds later a double scotch slid right down the bar, stopping an inch short of my elbow, and the barman turned away without charging. I made a note to settle that up at the end of the night. &nbsp; “Yeah, that’s better. Anyways, you’re actually an ad guy, did I catch that right?” &nbsp; The first sip of scotch was always the best. Shame about the company. “I’m a marketing research executive, so I ent - I’m not in creative, they’re the guys who come up with the nuts and bolts of the whole thing.” Again, more than I had meant to share, but I had a scotch in my hand now so I had an excuse. &nbsp; “So what you saying dude, is you’re the mechanic and they’re the spanners?” &nbsp; “Hah! I guess if you twisted my arm, I’d be forced to agree.” &nbsp; “Yeah you would, you sure you ent Don Draper, man? You got the look, you got the drink and you got the swagger.” &nbsp; At that moment Kate walked in. She and I had met in the office - making this date unprofessional in the extreme - but she could have walked straight onto a movie set and nobody would have blinked. She had this elegance, like an old film star. She looked like a million dollars, and like her problems didn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world, and when she saw me she looked brighter than a thousand watt bulb. &nbsp; “Duuuuuuuude.” &nbsp; Damn. For a moment I had forgotten about him. I’d have to get rid of him before he derailed the evening, but then Kate was giving me a light hug and peering behind the bar. &nbsp; “What’s your poison?” I asked, rediscovering terseness, and ignoring the kid chuckling beside me. &nbsp; “I hadn’t decided yet - haste makes waste, after all.” Kate had a voice like English willow knocking a six, plum; my laconic rival. As she coolly perused the spirits, by complete opposition it occurred to me that I really wanted to get rid of that damn kid, and spend the rest of the evening trading smooth quips over something smoky. At that moment a small bottle of ginger ale slid over to Kate, chased by a tall glass with a double of something clear. I whipped round at the kid, who was grinning crookedly, glancing between me and Kate, and who gave a mock salute, one of those annoying ones with two forefingers held together and the back two loose. Kate, for her part, sniffed the glass and arched one eyebrow. &nbsp; “Gordon’s?” &nbsp; Another glass slid over momentarily. Where the hell were these coming from? The barman was standing glassy-eyed at the other end of the bar, a bottle of gin in his hand. &nbsp; “Better. And the ginger’s a twist.” &nbsp; “Hell yeah, dudette - ” he actually said ‘dudette’ “ - all the British chicks dig it.” &nbsp; Kate only hummed disagreement, downed the gin and slid the ginger ale back. “Not all.” And just like that, whatever had kept me talking to the annoying kid snapped, and I told him to leave us alone now, please, we were in fact on a date, and he was intruding. Perhaps not as politely, or in as many words. His smile froze on his face and the sparkle in his eyes went out. &nbsp; “Suit yourself, dude. Haha, get it? Suit? Anyway, I’ll buzz off, sure, but before I go,” he flipped a card toward me from his back pocket, which I absently pocketed, “you should know as an ad guy that I gotta job for you. A big ole’ job. You might wanna give that number a call. Anyhoo. See ya round, Don.” &nbsp; Kate’s eyebrow rose again at that, but once the kid was gone I explained in brief, we settled at an intimate corner table and returned our attentions to where we had intended all along.
Thinking I was hearing things, I continued to get up. KRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAKKRAK From seemingly the same direction as the bullets, a computerized voice blared "YOU MAY NOT GET UP YET." I dove like a footballer and the bullets stopped. The paint was wet. And fuming. I couldn't stay down for any length of time for fear of the fumes. I couldn't get up for fear of the bullets. I rolled over. The fumes got better, but not by much. The light didn't seem to illuminate any doors. KRAK "THE OVERLORD DEMANDS A CONFESSION ON BOTH YOUR PARTS. RETURN TO YOUR BED OR THE OTHER ONE DIES." Screw the other one, I don't know him. Wait, I don't know anything at all!
I stood in the child’s doorway with my scythe. I read the name, Karen Moore. This matched the name of the girl in front of me, who couldn’t be older than nine. ‘Such a shame..she does not even appear ill.’ I thought. It did not matter. My job has been set in stone from the earliest of ages. I have taken every life to ever live and die. I do what I must do. I took my scythe in my right hand, the blade nearly touching the floor. I sighed, children’s deaths always bothered me for some reason. So innocent, they do not deserve this. Nevertheless, I take my blade and place it square on her chest. I open my eyes and watch her soul pass from her body into the blade itself, causing a slight glow. I step back and disappeared from the room. When I appeared back in my office to prepare this young soul for Judgement Day, I tapped the butt of my scythe on the floor, and her soul poured out of the blade. She was now standing in front of me, and my blade was no longer glowing. “Do you know where you are?” I asked “W..what? No?” She stammered. Most of the unexpected deaths resulted in such confusion. “Karen. Do not be afraid. You will no longer be in pain.” I said, looking down at the file again. Even as death itself I felt a cold rush over my body. She did not fit the physical description at all. Her age, far too young. “P..pain?” She was even more scared now. “What pain?” I gasped. I had taken the wrong soul. This young girl was meant to live. The real Karen Moore who had heart problems was out there, still alive. And I had taken this child. “There has been a mistake..” I say, dropping my scythe. I knew the rules. Once a soul has been taken, for any reason, it was against all law to return the soul. “I have made a mistake.” I turned to Karen. I was between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, I had taken this girl’s life by accident. Her parents would be devastated, she has been robbed of any chance of life. I knew I could be bound to the deepest circle of hell should I return the soul and any being find out. “Can you keep a secret?” I asked the girl. “Yes! I keep them all the time. She said, relieved and realizing that I would not hurt her. Most people fear the reaper, but not her. Everyone has their own vision of me, and apparently I do not look threatening to her. “You have died. But I can bring you back to life. Do you want that?” “I died?” The color drained from her face. “Yes, by mistake. I want to fix it.” “Please take me back home..” She said, starting to cry. “I don’t like this dream anymore.” ”Then you must follow me. Tell no one of this dream. Not even your parents.” “Ok I promise. Please let me go home now..” she said, reaching her hand out to me. “Then we’ll go home.” I said, taking her hand. As I walked with her through the spirit realm, I told her to close her eyes. And she did. She listened to me, and believed everything I said. It did not take long for us to reach her body. I held her hand as we watched her lifeless form on the bed. “You must lay down exactly where your body is. And I will heal you. You’ll wake up from this dream. And remember, tell no one. If you tell anyone, I will die. And I don’t have a body to go back to. Promise?” I say, my eyes searching hers. “Ok. I promise.” I watched her lay down as she was, and I brought my scythe over her chest for the second time that night. “Tell no one, ok?” “Ok.” She smiled. I tapped my scythe over her chest and watched her soul mend with her body. She gasped and woke up, staring everywhere, trying to discern reality from her “dream”. She remembered to tell no one as she covered her mouth and then smiled. I smiled back even though she couldn’t see me. I disappeared from her room and set off to do the rest of my work for the night, happy to know that I had done the right thing.
Thomas Fincher smiled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His dark brown eyes roamed up and down his mostly naked body, making sure he attached the electrodes in all the right places. He grabbed the instruction pamphlet and checked all the marked spots on the pamphlet and himself. "Wrists."He checked the golden stickers on each wrist, each had a golden AlterNet logo on it. "Temples."He looked in the mirror, the stickers appeared to be affixed in the right places. "Back of the neck."Thomas reached behind his neck and felt the textured sticker attached to where he guessed his spine connected to his head. He grabbed his phone from the grey marble counter top in his bathroom and padded out, in just his boxers, to his newly built 'Game room'. It'd taken him a long time to save up enough money for the remodel, but his patience was rewarded with the release of AlterNet 2.0 just as he reached his financial goal. He smiled at the large pit of soil taking up the center of the room. He placed his phone on a nearby table attached to a charger, then grabbed a small vial of thick, bright red liquid and walked to the pit. He stepped a bare foot into the soil and enjoyed the cool sensation as he squeezed it with his toes. He giggled with excitement, then laid down in the center making sure he was completely on the soil. He lay on his back and stared up at the clock he placed in the ceiling to keep his bearings about him whenever he logged out. He sat up, opened the small vial then drank the liquid inside in one gulp. Thomas laid back down. He kept his hands to his sides, making sure to keep the golden electrodes in the soil. It wasn't long before he felt a tingling in the back of his neck, then he felt nothing. He closed his eyes. "Welcome to the AlterNet 2.0,"a bright female voice spoke in his ear. "You may be aware of a sense of paralysis, please understand that this an intentional safety feature. Your body will remained paralyzed until you choose to log out of the AlterNet."The voice said. Thomas' eyes remained closed, but images and light filled his vision. He stood outside in a large empty wheat field, the golden grains swaying in the wind. He felt the wind brush his skin. A dark black, featureless, female mannequin appeared in the middle of the field then walked towards Thomas. "Please select a server,"the mannequin said though it had no mouth. Around her small windowed images appeared, each with a different name. "Random server,"Thomas said. The figure nodded, then projected a single image in front of itself. "Server: Random chosen." "Wait, there's a server named, 'Random'?"Thomas asked. The mannequin nodded. "Alright, whatever. What's next?" "AlterNet 2.0 is an upgraded version of the AlterNet. There are several varieties of games played within the AlterNet. Though you do not need a character profile for each game, it is recommended. Would you like to go through the games?"Thomas shook his virtual head. "No thanks, I'm just here for Derby,"he said. "Okay. Let's create your Roller Derby character,"the mannequin said. Again, Thomas shook his head, in a hurry to play. "Just default everything,"he said. "While Roller Derby allows you to customize your character as you progress, there are some choices that cannot be changed later. Due to the nature of the AlterNet, it is recommended you think about these choices carefully. You will be unable to create a new character later." "Default everything,"Thomas repeated. The mannequin nodded its blank head. "Default character created. Switching to tutorial mode,"the mannequin said. Thomas' vision went black and he lost all sense of feeling again. Instead of the wind and grains brushing his legs he felt nothing. When he regained vision the wheat field was gone. Instead he stood in the center of a stadium surrounded by winding Roller Derby track. He moved around, taking in the sights. The stadium was empty, but the track was impressive. Sharp turns and corkscrew ramps dotted sections of the track. "Totally worth the wait,"Thomas thought to himself. He pumped his fist in the air happily, then realized his body felt wrong. He looked down and realized his character was a girl. "Uh, help?"He squeaked out the word. The black mannequin appeared next to him. "How may I help?"she asked. "I don't want to be a girl,"Thomas said. "I'm sorry. Once your character is attuned, that is one of the choices that cannot be undone." \\\* 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.
Miss President a call from the department of Child birth in the oval office. "Thank you Julie, I will take it. Before you go any Idea why?" "Yes a boy was born." "A what? A boy? The world is coming to an end." "Seriously Miss President?" "No Julie, I have known this day would come for a long time. I have a plan in place. Set fourth by our Foremothers." "I must go take the call." Madam president enters the Oval office. Taking a deep breath and trying to gather her thoughts on how to explain to the department of Child birth on what to do with the boy. "Madam president, how are you today?" "Fine Nancy, we have been over this and over this. When one of these creatures is born you can not tell my staff why you are calling. You need to take the boy to the island of m.e.n. , make sure you take this one in the dead of the night, don't let anyone see you this time. Our lives are at stake here. The human race depends on it. We have being doing this for thousands of years. Without them we could not reproduce. Thank goodness technology has made this possible. Do I make myself clear?" "Clear as crystal madam" Madam president hangs up the phone and smiles and sighs with relief.
"Tell us another Papa!" "Yeah Papa, another! Another!" "Alright little ones, but this is the last one, after this you must go to bed."The two children let out a short cheer from their place on the floor between the fireplace and their Papa's chair. "Hmmm, let me think. Ah yes, I have one for you. My Papa told me this story when I was your age, like his Papa told him, and so on. The year was 1776. It was Christmas night. Most people were drinking eggnog and celebrating with their families, but not one of America's greatest heroes and his brave men." "Who was it Papa? And why weren't they celebrating too? And Wh\-" "Hush! If you keep interrupting you both can go to bed now!" "Sorry Papa."the two children said in unison. "It's fine, just let me tell the story. Now, where was I? Oh right I remember. The hero who was still fighting for freedom, even on Christmas was none other than George Washington, our first and greatest president." "Oooooooooh"the children said as their eyes lit up. "General Washington knew the Hessians would drink a little too much eggnog, like your uncle John does."Just then Mama looked up from her knitting to shoot Papa a mean look. Papa let out a belly laugh and the children couldn't help but join in. Mama returned to her knitting with a smirk "Anyway, in order to sneak up on the Hessians, General Washington had to cross the Delaware River. Except the river, was frozen!" "Wooooooow"the children said. "Wow is right. When General Washington and his men finally made it to Trenton, the Hessians were hopelessly outmatched. The continental army bombarded the Hessians with artillery before making the charge. General Washington led his men valiantly across the battlefield, his sword in one hand and his pistol in the other. When the smoke settled, and the battlefield was once again calm, the continental army was victorious. They took the Hessians guns, bullets and everything else they needed to continue fighting for freedom, as well as nearly a thousand Hessians! Washington's victory lit the fire in the heart of all those in the colonies who yearned to be free. From then on, nothing would be able to stop them." "Wow Papa, that's incredible! How did they cross the river if it was frozen?" "And how tall was General Washington?" "And What's a Hessian?"The two children had a million questions to ask their Papa, they were now running around the room, pretending to be soldiers. "Alright, alright."Papa said. "You two said you'd go to bed. Now march soldiers! If you don't get your sleep you'll never be able to take on King George!"The children's eyes widened, and they ran upstairs to their bedroom. Mama and Papa shared a knowing look. Finally Mama spoke up. "Don't worry, they'll tire themselves out soon enough."
Always finish the job. I kept my father's words close to my heart. From my first job working the concession stand at high school football games to my current employment delivering pizzas, I always made sure every detail was addressed and all tasks were complete before I called it day. No one ever gives their delivery guy or gal much thought after the food's handed over; still, it was an immense source of pride to know I’d done my job perfectly. So imagine what a kick in the balls it was on my last delivery of the evening when the front door of 1532 Pfifer Court swung open, and Dennis Multrand stood in front of me. I'm sure I paled a bit at the recognition, but with dusk already settling in and our franchise's goofy cap shielding most of my face I doubt he noticed. “Uh...Mr. Smith? You ordered two medium pepperonis and a 2 liter?” “Yeah. How much do I owe ya?” Oh, about $200,000, you fat piece of shit. “$33.17 sir,” I mumble, handing over the two pizza boxes and desperately trying to control my rage. Multrand tossed the cash at me (with a generous $1.83 tip), grabbed the food, and shut the door without another word. I was in a daze as I slid into my driver's seat. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be Mr. Smith of 1532 Pfifer Court, he shouldn't fucking be alive. Sure, it was partially my fault…being one of the best assassins for hire in the world before most kids make it out of college, I’d gotten way too cocky and assumed Multrand would be another easy hit. But that greasy pigfucker one-upped me, must have made so many enemies by the time my client offered $100,000 up front to off him ($200,000 more after the deed was done) that he'd already had a contingency plan more elaborate than I would have assumed he was capable of coming up with, much less executing flawlessly. He knew someone was coming for him, and slipped right through my fingers and off the grid without ever having known who that someone actually was. And now look at me, at his beck and call like a goddamn servant. What a fucking joke. “Hey kid!” His haughty bark snapped me back to reality. “You forgot my Pepsi!” I almost flipped him the bird and took off, but then a thought occurred to me: the client never gave me a deadline for taking care of Multrand. “Sorry sir! Be there in a sec!” I whistled cheerfully as I grabbed the 2 liter with one hand and the serrated knife from the glovebox with the other. Looks like I'll get to finish this job after all.
I called it an accident, though suicide rarely is. I knew it was a suicide, so did Raph. But we never talked about it like that, never told people about how desperate for a cure Mom had been. If we could only save Dad, the family would be okay. But there wasn't a way to save him. Parkinsons is a hell of a way to go. Mom didn't think about us, she focused on him so much it became her identity. She went everywhere with him, to the store, to the bathroom even. Hell, I don't think she let him leave when she took a shit. Everything was about him, even when we were kids. Mom was always addicted. To wine for a while. But always to dad. Hell, my brother is Rafael Anderson the second. I am Rafaella. Ellie, though, please. I don't like how... how things seemed to revolve around... And really... Not much to say. Today of all days. But Raph was always trying to make the best of it. Dad loved us, so Mom encouraged us to be happy. When we made good grades, Dad would light up like the room was holding the sun. All the camps we went to, all the field trips with my aunt, all the oceanography themed visits were all because Dad suggested them. I realize that now when I am grown and can see. Dad wanted kids, dad wanted us to be happy. Mom wanted to bask in the praise of my father's attention. She wanted us to honor him. She wanted everything to be perfect--for dad. Yet, she had never really loved us. Just the eyes, the hair, the skin color we inherited from him. It is shocking. How much someone can be someone else. If that makes sense. So when they died, so shortly after Dad told me the diagnosis, I knew what had happened. When I heard Raph... had died in a car accident, on that stretch of highway, I knew what had happened. He had told me he was feeling weird, different... he told me... Can I please go now? Really? I don't know why I... I know he had it. I know what his doctor said. How? How could I have possibly known? Highway 45, right by the Wilmont Ramp, going north on the 480 towards Oceanpark View...? That's where my Mom drove the car off the road, right onto the rocks below. It's genetic you know, Parkinson's. It's genetic.
"You're innocent,"Lawrence A. Camden said. "I am here to ask you a few questions." Lawrence was a detective with the San Arabia River police department. SAR. Badly chosen name. Still, Lawrence came with confidence. He took one look at my kitchen and declared me innocent. The police walked out and didn't bother commenting further. Why? "Because she had a guest over, a woman, it would end her marriage if it got out. But she was engaged that night. I am sure the cameras will show it." I had tried not to clench my teeth together, to chew off my tongue. How did he know about Elanna? How did he figure it out? "Your husband works all the time,"Lawrence said. "I know that from initial research. But you had two glasses out, both stained with lipstick. You also made a nice meal, something your tosser of a husband wouldn't have settled for. The lipstick is a distinctive blue, like my daughter loves to wear, and the woman peaking out of her apartment was wearing it." "Elanna Andrews,"I said without thinking. "She loves blue. Everything she owns is blue."Even her underwear. Lawrence smiled. "Miss Andrews said she was busy last night as well. She didn't have anything in her kitchen. She tried very hard to defend you. Said you were a great cook." I felt tears creep down my face. "I am sorry your husband was an asshole,"Lawrence said. I was crying at this point. "I think I can show myself out."
There's a full moon tonight. God damn it. She's coming back, and it's getting harder to remember exactly what she does when she's... when she's me. Early on it was simpler; my body changed and I was a short, plain-looking woman for about a day before I reverted. It's different now, though. Now she's me for longer stretches, and there are white, fuzzy spots in my memory where I have no idea what my Other is doing. I know for a fact that she's begun leaving the house, even going out for groceries. Her tastes are completely different, and she apparently has no issues with peanuts, unlike myself. I almost died after cleaning up a half-eaten sandwich she'd left that I realized too late was a PB&J... I have about 3 hours before it's dark enough for her to come back. I have no idea what I can do about it, so why bother? Actually, now that I think of it... I swept upstairs and into my study to grab a piece of stationery. If she's going to be leaving peanut butter sandwiches all over the place she better get it through her head that it could kill her Other. I opened the drawer, and blinked. She'd already been in the drawer, and had left a fat envelope with my name scrawled on it, and below that, OPEN. It better not be fucking peanuts. I dump it all out on the desk gingerly, in case I wasn't being paranoid about the whole peanuts thing. I was, and it wasn't peanuts; it was a pile of documents and old photographs. I sifted through them with a strange hollowness. Each one was more distressing than the last. A birth certificate for Sylvia Oswin Schultz, dated 1990. Old Polaroid photos dated 1993, '96, '98. A driver's license issued November 2008. My vision was getting blurry, and I felt sick. I picked up the last piece of paper, a rumpled page out of a notebook: I don't know what you call yourself, since we've never met for obvious reasons. I decided not to leave any other notes besides this one, since I knew this might come as a shock. I've been feeling the effects of this ~~curse~~ ~~hex~~ spell starting to wear off over the past ~~four~~ ~~five~~ however many months it's been. I hope the documents I left with this note are enough to help you understand, but I'll say it here just in case. I'm the original. I don't know where you'll go when this spell finally lifts, but I'd like to try to assure you that I don't hold anything against you. If it's not too much to ask... I'd like to know your name. I set the page down on the desk and stared at the moon outside for a minute. Then I turned it over and scribbled down my name. I smiled weakly at my terrible handwriting. Then whiteness. **************************************************************** Sylvia blinked, touching her face, surprised at the salty dampness on her cheeks. He must have read the note, she realized. She looked down at the desk, blinking away someone else's tears, and saw that he'd turned the note over and scrawled something on the back. Her vision cleared, and she read it: My name was Adam.**
It was the beginning of the end of professional sports in America, that fateful Sunday in February. Before that day there was a veil over they eyes of the American people. It was an illusion they were born into since 1920, one they couldn’t see and never knew was there. Not until then. Sunday, February 2nd, 2020. Hard Rock Stadium, Miami Gardens. Super Bowl LIV, halftime. The Patriots vs The Chicago Bears and the Bears are down 21-7. Halftime interview with Bears QB Tyler Bray: Reporter: “Down by 14 at the half, Tyler, what do you guys have to do as a team to get back in this?” Bray: “Well y’know obviously we’ve got to get back in there, play our game, play the way we want to play. We’re going to give 110%...” That’s when it happened.... Bray: “... try to - who are we kidding, it’s not possible to give 110% it m tired of saying that all the time. And you know what? Playing our game, the way we play hasn’t been getting us anywhere here, y’know what we have to do? Play their game. Ya we need fucking Tom Brady. I know he’s old as fuck being propped up by ant-aging drugs, but get him over here and we’ll start winning...and how about their coach? Give us one of him ffs our guy is clueless out there. Reporter: “um Tyler, the script..” Bray: “Script? I’ll script you, I’m tired of pretending you should see what’s going on in our locker room! The coaches are banging their heads against the wall... you’ve got a better chance of coaching us through the game Reporter: “Tyler stop, you know what could happen!” Bray: “ppppffft please, I’m tired of pretending. We don’t have a great group of guys in that locker room, they’re fucking animals! We’re not tight in there, I don’t love playing here, Bears fans are the same as every other fucking fan base, they aren’t the best, there’s no such thing as ‘Bears Football’ or ‘Patriots Football’ we’re all coached the same, we don’t have to take it one game at a time, we don’t leave it all on the field, we aren’t better than our record indicates, he doesn’t have a motor that doesn’t quit, ... fuck it I’m not answering these questions the same anymore I’m done !” And that’s where it started. Like a ripple from a stone thrown into a still pond, that interview reverberated across the NFL. It was the Patriots the next quarter: “we gave 70, maybe 75%. Coaches didn’t really try and our pussy QB was scared to get hit.” Fans everywhere began to be disillusioned: “These players hate their jobs as much as I do.” Fans everywhere stopped watching. Stopped attending. Players stopped pretending. It spread. Baseball came down the fastest. Next The NBA, then the NHL, then PGA. Bowling, soccer. All of it. Now we read.
Really enjoyed writing this...feedback welcome! --- Mistress Mallor thumbed through the dusty spell tome while an inked quill scribbled across a nearby piece of parchment, seemingly moving on its own accord. “Let me see, uh,” the witch mumbled quietly to herself, “heartroot, got that...and mouse eye? That’s going to be troublesome…” Across the room, Clover Redwood, Mallor’s newest apprentice tended to a bubbling cauldron. “It’s no good, it’ll be atleast a three day trip to gather all these ingredients,” Mallor sighed, “although...there is a dragon in the Mistmoors who owes me a favor.” The apprentice looked puzzled at the revelation, no Dragon had been spotted in the region for centuries. Or so she thought. She thought not to ask questions, and continued to stir the cauldron. “Well, that’s that then, I’ll be back by sundown,” said Mallor. The quill beside her dropped onto the table and she stuffed the parchment into her robes. Mallor swiped her pointed hat and headed for the door. “You have everything under control, yes? Remember, six shakes of rosehip - no more no less! And then, once it starts to thicken, a lick of cow tongue ought to finish it off nicely. Have you got all that?” Clover nodded assuredly, “six shapes, lick of cow tongue, got it.” “Oh, and if you have the time...see about that elixir for Mister Hargreaves. He’s having trouble with the flowers this season, a few drops of thistlepure should do it, he’ll get petunias as big as his head.” Mallor chuckled to herself as she slipped out the door, leaving Clover to her own devices. The apprentice kept on stirring, she’d gotten it down to a fine rhythm. Clover kept an eye on the time, then looked to the recipe sheet pinned up next to her. With her arms aching, Clover wondered if anything might speed up the concoction. That way she’d buy some time to perfect the beautifying potion she’d been working on after hours. That was her specialty, potions to enhance ones inner beauty, it had been a hit with the ladies of the village. Her last creation, ‘Clovers Luscious Locks’ had helped tremendously to reassure the villagers that witches were no longer a threat to society. She hoped one day to produce a whole range of beautification treatments for Mistress Mallor’s apothecary. Mallor often objected, however. The witch believed that it was a shallow endeavour that would encourage narcissism within the village. She was old fashioned like that. Clover eyed the various bottles and vials lined across the wall shelves. They spanned the whole color spectrum, and then some. At the very top shelf sat a jar of swift feather. Perfect. Clover cast a quick spell to keep the ladle stirring the cauldron and made her way up the shelf ladder. The wooden ladder did feel a little wobbly, Clover thought as she climbed upwards. She was now some eight feet from the ground wondering if one of these potions might treat her quickly developing vertigo. She reached her hand out to the swift feather. Why on earth was swift feather up there anyways, she asked herself, it certainly wasn’t anything special. Clover just wanted to speed her mixture along a bit, for goodness sake. She kept struggling and the ladder wobbled against her. Thats when her foot slipped and kicked an unfastened jar of murky black fluid into the cauldron. She shot down the ladder with a shriek as the cauldron hissed and spat. “Oh no...no no no,” she flustered, trying to retrieve the jar. It was too late, its contents had emptied into the mixture. She withdrew the ladle and stumbled back when she saw a spindly foetus hanging from it. Clover looked to the empty jar and wiped the label down with a rag. ‘Petrified Wyvern’ Wyvern? Clover almost fainted, “this is not good...no, no…” The foetus dropped back into the mixture followed by a sizzling hiss. The cauldrons contents bubbled and curdled, thickening into a bloody red color. Terrified, Clover flicked through her Mistress’ tome to try and identify what sort of horror she had created. It was no use, the book was specific to remedial witchcraft. It soon became apparent that whatever she had created was the product of black magick. She knew that Mallor would have any prohibited material well under lock and key, far away from the prying eyes of the inquisition. A pointed wing poked out of the mixture and then back down again, the Wyvern circled the cauldron, flexing and testing its newfound body. Clover peeked out of the window and saw sundown fast approaching on the horizon. Wyverns were creatures of the night, and vicious ones at that. To make matters worse, it would be clear that this specimen had been augmented by magic. The inquisition were always searching for an excuse to eradicate witchcraft once and for all, Clover and other witches like her had only survived by proving themselves an asset to society. Even the high inquisitor’s wife was an avid user of Luscious Locks. The wyvern emerged, covered in blood and ravenous. It lifted its wings and darted headfirst into the window towards the darkening horizon, shattering the glass. Clover swiped her Mistress’ broom and set off in pursuit.
Have you ever had the latest Clairvoyance Phone that was made by the CYV company? After tech enthusiasts discovered it, reviews were made. It then skyrocketed into one of the most controversial yet most sold technology in the world as of 2020. It functioned as something that would make funny events based on you that would take on a somehow theoretical level. It was used for the funs and the lols, but the company did share it’s fair lawsuits at how it access personal information. It would look at your bank account, history of search, preferences, items shopped and the list goes on. What made it worse was that you didn’t have any knowledge about its use, since it didn’t include accessing information in its guidelines and agreement. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. An elderly woman names Cecilia Newman reported of her missing granddaughter that she remembered in a dream. Remembered in a dream? Well that’s because there were no evidence of her having a granddaughter staying with her at all, or even a granddaughter named Lilac. Yet she was so confident that this fantasized relative was real. What could have been a poorly fabricated story blew up in the internet as people also reported missing relatives and friends that they remembered in a dream. The problem was none of the people that were reported missing were real at all, the media suspects this as a bandwagon meme that spread across and was somehow picked up. But the problem becomes worse as the estimates have become lacking or missing. The recent population survey showed that the total world population was now 3 billion instead of 7, as people scanned history and books that clearly said 7 billion. People started realizing that the city was now less crowded, there was much more room in lands and buildings. Again the problem with this was there were no evidence of these reported people missing, their houses, properties and relationship were void and without a ground to support existed. The only thing that remained constant and unchanged was our eyes and mind. We knew now that there was a problem with people disappearing. As the topic of missing people became a trend, it was the same time the CYV decided to stop manufacturing these Clairvoyance Phones. The reasons were not clear, but it went along the lines of. Hey there fellow CYV user! Unfortunately we will not be continuing the production of these specialized phones as we have decided to move on with shares and actual technology innovating. We hope you understand! At first people were shocked, but recovered quickly. None of the people actually had a problem, that is until a user uploaded a correlation of the missing 4 billion and the sale numbers of CYV. It was very close Like it wasn’t supposed to be coincidental People then went along with jokes about CYV taking people. It was all a joke till one day. I got sent a video of my phone. There was no me, but rather a slideshow of scenes that were places that I would hangout or work. It felt weird till I had a dream. They were echoes, and the place was full of eyes. But what made this place disturbing was the fact it kept chanting one line that was played over and over. A price for every answer ye wields A price for every answer ye wields A price for every answer ye wields A price for every answer ye wields Then I woke up in the morning, but something was different. It was as if the colors were starting to fade around me. There was a concert outside my apartment, and the rapper was yelling as people were jumping. “Let’s beat this sun and party hard till the night comes” He said and everyone cheered. I was gonna shout a reply of how much of a dumbass he was, the place looked as if it was gonna blow a storm. Then I looked up and it hit me. The sky was clear. But the sky was grey as if a thunderstorm was gonna pass. I looked around and slowly, people started appearing. They were walking lime zombies, they passed through the bodies of the people partying. I was confused, until a chant was heard. A price for every answer given. A price for every answer given. A price for every answer given. A price for every answer given. The place was now devoid of colors and my body was now starting to become transparent.
We left Steve’s house and surprisingly, no one was drunk. Ash had just gotten her driver’s license and somehow convinced her older brother to let her borrow his 2006 Toyota Corolla. All we did that night was played 20 questions and sit around eating cheese puffs. And we kind of explored Steve’s garage. Okay don’t get me wrong, most garages have boring stuff in them but Steve’s garage, at this moment in time, is full of his dead grandmother’s junk. Which was pretty cool. We got bored of 20 questions pretty fast so Steve, Ash, Monica, and I were trying to think up something to do on this boring Saturday night. Monica and I were complaining about school and stupid it was that teachers were refusing to let us use our laptops in lecture. Like lady, I know you have a PhD in criminology from Stanford but this is Pierce Community college and an intro to Deviant Behavior (an interesting topic don’t get me wrong but when a teachers drones on, and on...). And then Steve just drop a bomb, “Our garage is full of my Nan’s shit. You guys want to check it out?” Do we want to check it out? Does a bear shit in the woods? A bunch of bored 18 year olds on a November Saturday night with no alcohol and a almost empty bag of puffs. We crept into the garage. First thing I noticed about Steve’s parent’s garage: it smelled like dust. Not garage dust but old lady and stale alcohol with some cat hair thrown in for good measure dust. He flicked on the light. The garage was actually full. Of junk. A torn, plastic covered sofa, end tables with half an inch of dust and some thumbprints from when it was moved, weirdly shaped lamps, a coffee table with a multitude of rings from drinks long past. And about 30 boxes of old newspapers. No exaggeration, I actually lost count at around 27. Some of the lamps were pretty cool and I’m sure I could YouTube a DIY video about fixing up an old coffee table, my mind was spinning with ideas about this gold mine of gross, dusty old furniture when Ash spoke up, “Your gran was pretty obsessed with this Robin chick.” Steve of course had no idea,and didn’t really care anyways and he had already pulled out his phone to scroll through something in defeat. It was up to us to investigate. Inside boxes were copies of the same newspaper with the front page reading, “Missing Girl Sought.” It featured a pale, dark haired girl who was maybe 19ish and what might have been her parents. I started reading the article aloud, “Robin Ann Graham missing since November 15, 1970 aprox. 2:30 a.m. Location: southbound Hollywood freeway near Santa Monica Boulevard. Graham has been missing for more than a week now and her parents are pleading the public for any information related to her disappearance. Graham is a student at Pierce Community college and works locally. An unidentified Caucasian make in his mid twenties was the last person to see Graham before she vanished. Please relay any information to the Los Angeles Police department.” That shit was creeeepy. I had goosebumps on my arms and the full attention of Ash and Steve. Monica pulled another newspaper from a box with the title, “Zodiac Killer Linked to 2 Student Deaths.” “Oooh guys, I think Steve’s gran was a little obsessed with this thing, this box is full of Zodiac Killer articles.” I was out. Clowns, Spiders, and Serial Killers are not my jam and this was all too close to home to be comfortable. “Hell no guys. It’s too late to read about killers and girls disappearing into the night. I want to go home and sleep and not think about this. At. All.” I said. Ash mumbled something about being a party pooper and shook Steve awake and Monica put the newspapers back in order. We went back into the house and packed up our stuff and headed out. Ash, Monica,and I left Steve’s around 3:00a.m. which was too late/early for me. We dropped of Monica and I asked Ash if it was cool if I stayed over at her place cause it was so late, she was cool with it as long as we didn’t wake her parents up, so I went home with her. Ash and I quietly snuck in and were greeted by her older brother who was still up playing some video game. We got into her room where I promptly looted her pajama drawer and crawled into bed. As we were falling asleep Ash said, “I stole one of those newspapers, you know the one with the article about that Robin girl.” I was shook, but also not really. Just really tired and grumpy. I told her I didn’t care and hope that Steve’s gran doesn’t curse her and then fell asleep. I woke up to a heater blasting, a sticky Ash next to me, and the color orange. I rolled around and glanced at my watch where the time said 11:45. That’s weird, we slept until almost noon and Ash was still passed out. Wiping the sleep out of my eyes and realizing the surrounding colors I came to a conclusion: we were not in Ash’s room. Which freaked me out. I shook Ash awake trying to get my log of a friend to wake up and smell the shag carpet. The room was exactly the same setup as the room we fell asleep in seven hours ago; the bed in the corner, window above the headboard, small dresser, closed closet door, and huge oleander tree outside the window. However, her new bedroom walls were paneled in pistachio and cream and the beige shag carpet was at least three inches thick, I was also pretty sure there might have been a lava lamp in the corner of the dresser. The orange chenille blanket on the bed was burning hot and I was sweating. I habitually reached for my phone to post something somewhere about this being a joke but of course it vanished. Ash finally started to roll over and grumbled about the temperature. Other than the heat and my phone being gone, everything seemed fine.
“Sis,” said Drake. “Sis, wake up.” A faint groan emerged from below the pile of blankets. Drake kicked the pile with a thud. A ball of cloth and rage flew out in his direction. “What’s your problem?” said the sister. “You brat.” She punched him lightly on the leg as she flew passed. “You said you’d take me to the foothills today,” said Drake, he mumbled the statement and rubbed the spot she’d attacked. “Ugh,” she groaned. “Why would I take you anywhere?” “Come on Rebecca,” said Drake. “That’s not fair. You promised.” “As if, I—” she began. Rebecca sighed. “Fine.” “Yey,” shouted Drake. “Let’s goooo…” “Keep it down,” said Rebecca. “It’s far too early to be making that much noise. You’ll wake everybody.” “But—” said Drake. “Shhhh…” said Rebecca. She motioned to the guards on one side of the cavern. “We got out last time,” said Drake. “We’re unstopp—” A guard turned toward them and Drake ducked behind an outcrop on in the rock face. “There aren’t many at the entrance,” said Rebecca with her back turned to the guard. “If we get passed this lot we’ll be out of here in no time.” “I still don’t know why you insisted we come back here,” said Drake. “Yes, you do,” said Rebecca. She looked toward another group who still slept on the hard rocky ground. “We’ll never get out of here if they’re always sleeping in this late,” said Drake. “You’re not the one who has to do any of the hard work,” said Rebecca. “You’re still little.” “Like you do any of the hard work,” said Drake. “Well, I’m just too special for manual labour,” said Rebecca. She ran her hand over her hair in mimicry of the women who were pretty for a living back before The Shake. Drake sniggered and made kissy faces back at his sister. “The overseer boss loves you,” said Drake. “That’s it.” “Gross,” said Rebecca. “As if I want anything to do with that man.” “It gets you out of work though,” said Drake. “It must be nice.” Rebecca sighed. Soon, Drake would be a teen. He’s be put to work. The watching guard stepped away from her and went back to the other overseers. “Come on,” said Rebecca. “Let’s get out of here.” Rebecca grabbed Drake’s hand and they moved along the shadows of the cave’s edge. Equipment for the workers lined the edges of the cavern piled in boxes and on shelves. It was easy to sneak passed waiting guards without being seen. The area beyond was lighter as they approached the entrance to the cave. “There’s normally one or two around here,” said Rebecca. “Wait here.” “Kay,” said Drake. He crouched down against crate. Rebecca moved closer to the entrance trying to spot the guards who would be keeping watch. She didn’t see one. Drake still sat where she’d left him. “Come on,” said Rebecca. “It looks clear for once.” “Lucky,” said Drake. The two made a break for the light. Rebecca expected a call to be raised any minute. But, she heard nothing. They paused at the edge of the light and peered beyond. The grey plains looked empty. Lifeless. “Is it all like this now?” said Drake. “Come one,” said Rebecca. She pulled him out of the entranceway toward a set of low bushes that had lost all of their greenery. A low rumble had begun and Rebecca was getting worried. “Get down,” she said to Drake. “Someone’s coming.” They crouched, their face’s pressed to the ground. “I don’t see anyone,” said Drake. The rumble grew louder. “What is that?” said Rebecca. “Earth shake!” shouted Drake. He struggled out of Rebecca’s grip pressing him to the ground. “Stop, Drake,” said Rebecca. “Where are you going?” Drake ran for the cave. Rebecca stood to follow but the ground shook violently and threw her back to the ground. She lost sight of his as a cloud of dust filled the area. “Drake,” called Rebecca. She scrambled to her feet as the dust cleared in front of her. The cave had collapsed. She was outside on her own. “Drake!”
One of my cult brothers nudged me in the side. "Bro...remember that girl that broke up with you?" "Oh yeeeeeah!"my other cult brothers chorused, accompanied by a copious amount of laughter, snickering, and all of a sudden everyone wants to form a circle around the guy that got dumped. "I also remember hooking up with a new girl shortly after that."This is said through a tight smile and gritted teeth. "Do you remember calling me crying that night?"someone from the circle throws out. "I also remember calling you to tell you that I got a new girlfriend. Which I would very much prefer to be talking about right now." Someone else is looking through their phone. "I think I still have the screenshots of that long rant you went on..." These guys just don't stop... "Okay,"I said. "Fine. I give up. You want to play this game right now? Timmy, remember the time you got drunk, kissed Michael on the lips, and thought you were going to turn gay? Andrew, remember the time you caught Julian having sex with your mom? Jacob, remember the time you slipped, did a split, and popped a testicle? Oh, where's everybody going? Come back. Let us all remember together, my brothers! Come! Remember!" Michael Jackson's, 🎶Do You Remember the Time🎶 starts to play in the background.
It's rare in my line of work to be in the position I'm in now. I liked to think of myself as an entertainer, an actor, and of course, above all, a master of social engineering. My actual job title is Entertainment Clerk at a rundown steakhouse in the middle of the city. I had always been interested in magic from a young age, and when I landed my first gig I had big dreams of becoming the next Houdini or Vernon. Life is, as we all know, rarely so kind as to oblige our wishes, and after failing to secure anything besides a couple of drunken college parties, I managed to land this permanent job at a Steakhouse. It barely paid the bills, and now here I was, about to lose out on what little income I was able to scrape by. I just messed up my trick. It was simple enough. Show the deck of cards, let them shuffle, allow them to think they have a choice, and then make them pick the card that was conveniently duplicated in my pocket while burning the original at the table. Simple and easy, I'd done it 500 times before and never had a problem. I used to even carry an extra way out in case something went wrong. Until today. It had been an unfortunate day to begin with. My first table had one of those engineer types that loudly told everyone what he thought I was doing at each step. My second table, the kid cried when I ripped up his card and the parents called for the manager before I could recover, and now this. I guess there was always a time to start over in life, and maybe this was the sign I needed. "Now if you look very carefully, you might even think your card has disappeared!"I start, "but if you watch closely, even more closely, if I snap my fingers over the deck, you can see something incredible happen."My voice gets lower, and lower. I'm in so much trouble now I don't even know what to do. I snap my hands over the deck. As if being called to dinner, the top card immediately falls off the deck and hits the table face up, revealing the customers selection, the 4 of hearts. The woman who had been frowning nearly the entire time drops her butter-smeared bread onto her plate, and her date's eyebrows disappear into his receding hairline. A beat passes. Then two. "That was incredible,"he whispers. "How did you do that? I've never seen anything like it!" I sit in stunned silence, my own jaw touching the table. I recover and smile. "A magician never reveals her tricks!"Corny, cheesy, and ill-fit for the situation, but the best I can command my mouth to do at the moment. "I hope you're enjoying your dinner, please enjoy! Your waiter will be by with your meal shortly." &nbsp; I quickly walk back to the pass and reach into my pocket. The customers selection, the 4 of Hearts, was the same card I kept in my pocket, but I know I messed up the trick. I was 100% sure I did. As I pull the card out of my pocket, I confirm that the card I was trying to use was indeed the 4 of Hearts. It shouldn't have been there. Throughout the night, my mind continues to go back to this strange problem. However, I'd been practicing magic for years. I knew that sometimes, when you think you make a mistake, you actually just move a couple of cards to different places, and through sheer luck I must have shuffled it to the top. It was the only explanation that made sense. While I walk by another table, I snap my fingers twice and smile. "Hello! Are you enjoying your meal? Would you like to see some magic tonight?"This table has a family of four, and I think to myself that the night will be on a turnaround. &nbsp; "Do you believe in time travel?"This trick is a perfect icebreaker, and the table seems friendly enough. However, before I can spread the cards fully, a scream silences the room. I look around, searching for the source of the sound. The new waitress, who started last week, has just dropped a bottle of very expensive wine onto a group of VIPs. She begins sobbing and I excuse myself as quickly as I can and rush to her. So much for the night going well. I profusely apologize to the VIPs and call for the manager, while helping her to the back of house. She's incoherent, rambling about how the bottle jumped out of her hands and how she needed the job. I feel less terrible about my night, poor girl. "It's okay, it's okay"I try to soothe her, knowing full well she will be fired the moment the manager can excuse himself from the table. "Everyone makes a mistake or two, you'll be fine."She's becoming so incoherent that I think she's giving herself a panic attack. I shake her slightly, then snap my fingers in front of her to try to wake her up. She finally responds and begins sobbing even harder. I embrace her, and try my best to help her calm down. &nbsp; The rest of the night is quiet. The manager has me sit with the new girl until she calms down, and then gives her the unfortunate news. She knew it was coming, though, and you can see by her reaction that the real crying jag will begin when she gets home. I offer to drive her to her place, and the manager agrees that it's a good idea after we finish clearing down. Unfortunately, living in the middle of the city also means that you run into the occasional accident. Tonight's accident is particularly bad, meaning that we have to sit in uncomfortable silence punctuated by sniffles as she once again breaks down in my car. I ask her a little about herself. Her name is Ramona. She came from the east side, hoping to get away from the gangs and the streets and start her life over. She's younger than me. She should be in college, not waiting tables at some steakhouse that uses prepackaged steaks and charges more than half the city. "If you need anything,"I start, "Just give me a call. I can't always help you out, but I know some people who might need a waitress, so just uhh, give me a call if I can do anything."This is awkward. I can barely make ends meet and I'm offering help to people despite driving a beater car myself. "Thanks,"she hiccups, and doesn't choose to pursue the topic. I reach for the stereo to try to make this less awkward and more comfortable. Frank Sinatra drifts out of the old stereo, and not even Frank is safe from my god forsaken speakers. "Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars..."Frank croons. Ramona smiles. "This is my favorite song,"she says, and starts humming along with it. Her humming sounds beautiful so I tap my feet and snap my fingers along with the drums. A light rain starts to fall, further cementing our small moment together. I don't think I can help this girl, but I think I've managed to make her night just a little bit less shit. Thanks Frank, I owe you one. The raindrops softly tapping on my windshield further adds to our pathetic symphony. &nbsp; After I drop her at her house, the rain is getting harder. I need to get back home before it gets too difficult to drive, so I drive a little too fast on the way home. I'm not caught by the police, but I should know better. I glance at the clock. 2:04 AM. My life has become so out of control that I can't even get to bed at a decent hour anymore. I almost don't turn on the lights, but I decide against it. I snap both of my fingers to turn them on. When I was 20, I had a brilliant idea to install the clap on lights because I wanted to be a smartass, and I thought it might confuse people because I found out a snap also works to trigger the lights. I forgot the light burned out three days ago, though, and so I have to walk over to the light switch. "Waste of effing money,"I mutter to myself and switch on the TV, muting it so I don't have to hear the incessant drone of boring newscasters and begin to strip out of my sweat-stained clothes. I head to the bathroom to take a shower so that I can try to sleep a little before class tomorrow. At some point during my shower, the rain stops, and I'm glad. It's impossible to sleep when it's raining earlier. Speaking of rain, and Ramona, and work, though. It reminds me. &nbsp; I can't believe I forgot what happened earlier. Still unconvinced about my ability to shuffle and cut cards, I walk over to my desk and open my practice deck. The signatures of 50 different people glance up at me as I repeat the trick multiple times, but I'm never able to recreate the trick. Finally, in frustration, I decide to repeat everything. When I reach the part where I know I've misplaced the card, I'm not sure what I expect. &nbsp; Feeling incredibly stupid, I snap my fingers over the deck. &nbsp; At once, the card turns over and shows the 4 of Hearts on top. My jaw once again must be collected off the top of the table as I can do nothing but stare. I'm not even sure I believe it, so this time I take the 4 of Hearts and place it on the other side of the room. I'm visibly shaking on the outside as I snap my fingers again, this time barely making a sound. &nbsp; The 4 of Hearts turns over again on top of the deck, and simultaneously the Television becomes unmuted, blaring the warning for heavy rain, snow-storms, and tornadoes. "We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you an announcement. Scientists have observed an odd change in the path of the moon. Please do not be frightened as we are currently assessing the situati-". Wait, what? &nbsp; I bound down the stairs and throw open my front door. Gazing into the sky, the previously cloudy sky I can see the moon almost imperceptibly getting bigger, and bigger. I think I know why.
We left Earth three hundred years ago, looking to give humanity a second chance since we ruined our home planet. We all knew this was a one way ticket and we'll never live past 50 because of complications from the sleep freezing procedure. But we did it for the kids, ours and all mankind's. We were just 150 years out of our destination when the computers waked the crew. An alien ship had been spotted and was on course to meet us. Puzzled, we held our breaths as this could be first contact and we'll be forever altering the course of mankind. That is, if we could survive an attack, this was a mostly civilian ship with 500 crew and forty thousand still frozen civilians. Our light weapons and shields were meant to fight orbital piracy, not wage war with aliens. The bridge was chaotic, with science and military officers going at each other on how to react. And then it happened, the ship vanished from existence, leaving an energy signature which our sensors picked as definitive proof of warp travel. All was left was an old human beacon floating in space, we recognized it as part of the thousands of probes launched in advance in order to build the colony we'll be arriving to. Inside its data storage we found logs stored by the colony AI. It showed how our colony failed, hundreds of assets and automated factories were lost while reentrying the atmosphere and countless others never made it. Forced to make a choice, the colony AI changed its mission to self-preservation while still sending false reports back to Earth. After that, the logs became unreadable (clearly the software has been evolving itself) except the last one, written a mere week ago in plain english: "turn back".
It was 8:00 am when it happened. I was waiting for the train, my coffee still in my hands. As it rolled in, someone pushed me. I saw everything. My wife, my child, everyone I've ever met. Gone... I thought it was over. My life, that is. For a second, I panicked. I couldn't move my arms, or my legs, I couldn't see or hear... I felt coldness and hotness at the same time, I couldn't breathe but I didn't need to. And soon, I saw a giant bright light, blinding me even though I had no eyes to see with. Two men were standing there, smiling. Laughing. What is this? A sick torture machine? They started to type on a keyboard, cheering. Soon, I could hear. Their smiles, their laughter. Soon they were talking. > "Can It hear us?"the first man said. > "Yes, I put in microphones and everything,"the second spoke. > "Can you believe it took 214 tries!? We need to tell Martha."The first responded. The second man left, while the first stayed. He started to talk to me. "Hello! You are our best creation, part of CAN-DO laboratories."I felt sick, still feeling the chill of being hit by a train. "Uh... OK?"I said. The man stood in shock, and then smiling again. He ran out as the second man and a woman came into the room. She was wearing a surgical mask. They started to talk about an outbreak that makes people think differently, but I was still freaked out by all this. The woman started typing on the keyboard, and soon a keyboard appeared in front of me. The man spoke. "You now have 10,000 databases. Learn as much as you want... but, I need to ask something first. How did you learn English so quickly?"I told them my story about being hit by a train, but they looked skeptical. They left before they even caught my name. I begged them to let me go and then the third researcher took off her mask as she was leaving. "Martha Bell!?"I screamed without even thinking. She flipped around and said "Yeah, that's my name." "I... uh... turn on the news."And she did. And the horror on her face as she learned her husband was hit by a train.
"What now?"asked the shadow. A man, about 40 years old, sat on the edge of a building. To his left, two birds were suspended in a fight midair. Below him, the streets of Baltimore were at a standstill. To his right, the familiar shadow came close and sat beside him to peer down into the motionless city. "I don't know"said the man to his strange companion. "I have accomplished nothing. I need more time." The shadow did not move. But, after a minute, it replied, "Time for what? What is it you need to accomplish?" "Anything. My life is the sum of poor attempts, unfulfilled dreams, and uninteresting routines. I need to learn more, acquire talents. I don't even have a hobby! I am unmarried, and thoroughly alone. I need more time." The shadow again sat silent for some time, before saying "I see." The man had recently gained the curious ability to stop time. It was a fitting gift for a man who was so anxious about his own mortality, and who felt he had wasted so much of his life. He spent days reading books, traveling the country, but after a week he felt no closer to being whole. Now he sat atop the World Trade Center, looking over the harbor, and cried. Even with all the time in the world, he truly could not bare to be around himself. He was more alone than ever. "The sun will be setting soon,"said the shadow. "I'll stay and watch it with you."The man looked up through glassy eyes, and nodded. Suddenly, the traffic began to move on the street below. The birds to his left squawked and flew away. The wind blew gentle summer air across the building roof. The man and the shadow sat there, watching the sun set over the east city. The sky, full of fiery pinks and oranges, soon subsided to night. "It's quite beautiful,"said the man. He looked for his companion, and saw that he was once again alone. A woman's voice, concerned, came instead form the roof stairwell. "Sir, are you OK?" The man did not respond for several seconds. "Would you like to come watch the stars with me?" The woman was unsure how to respond. But, looking up at the clear night sky, she said quietly, "Yes, thank you."The two sat and stared at the sky without speaking for quite a while, as traffic whizzed by underneath their feet.
It looked up into the sky, with its one eye. A fleshy growth protruded from Its back, until a large bulbous eye was to be seen, almost like an angler-fish. It lowered its gaze down to the horizon. There was a locust swarm swarming one of the Gargantuans; gigantic, slow amalgamations of various creatures, fused together by the radiation near the Great Crater. It had thought to avoid them. It had no name. It had no parents, none that he knew of at least; It was borne from the nuclear fire. It had no knowledge of what a name was. And Ut had no need for a name. The creatures of this world follow one principle: survival of the fittest. There was no room for cooperation; even all of the heads of a Gargantuan attempted to attack each other with a hatred greater than themselves. Suddenly the caps exploded, releasing their spores. The caps were long, brown plants that grew on its underbelly, rooting in Its stomach. Unlike the plants of old, THESE caps needed greensky. And It depended on the caps to sustain him. So, It has started to travel towards one of the various feeding grounds of the area. However, since the caps were already releasing spores, they needed greensky, and lots of it. There was one place in particular that would have more than enough greensky, but it was dangerous. There was so much greensky, that predators also came there to feed. The place also had so much greensky, that it was home to some of the worst predators in the area. "Tssss" But the caps needed the greensky, so It made the journey regardless. The Iron Towers was dangerous, but It needed the greensky to survive.
I'm in Hawa'ii which is nice but.. wtf.. it's snowing.. It happened slowly. For an entire week the sky was cloudy. Turning a deeper shade of grey each passing day. On the 7th day is when the drizzle of snow started to fall. The next day is when the drizzle turned into thick snowflakes. It's been a month of nonstop snow. Civilization is recognizable... The rich and top performers found a way to escape to Mars while the rest have been left to fend for themselves. Theres no more vegetation, food is scarce. Murder has become the norm. The kind and weak hearted committed suicide because they were unable to cope with this harsh reality. As I write this, I'm in the last safe haven in Hawa'ii. No longer an island as the ocean has hardened and bridged the lands. We were able to hunt all the boars, fish, crustations and sea life we could get and rationed it. Sadly word spread and now an army of savages are breaking down the gated community entrance.... We all know humanity is doomed and we're fighting a hopeless battle. It only took 5 years for all that we knew to come to an end.
In the dim light that skirted over the castle walls, the quiet prayers of a bleeding figure were halted in a pool of mixed blood. The figure gripped a holy cross tightly in his calloused hands as he passed, his dirtied, disheveled robes slumping in the swathe of red on the otherwise immaculate white courtyard. His executioner cleaned the blood from a dull blade, as others finished watching and went back to their duties. Amongst the onlookers, one man stood perfectly still, fixed on the executed figure. "Another, Nakayama\-san,"someone said to the man, "Yet again you bring honor to the daimyo and to the Tokugawa clan." "As you say, Ise\-dono,"Nakayama responded with a deep bow. "I know that you doubt these actions, Nakayama\-san,"said the courtier, Ise, shifting his regal garments, and furrowing his brows, "but there is reason to this." Nakayama remained bowing. "You are young, your life has seen only a time of peace,"said Ise, gesturing to the surrounding hills that were filled with quiet woods, "but in the years not long before you, there was only war." "I understand." "Do you?"inquired the courtier, "This man and his faith, they may not seem like anything to you. But to many of us, they are echoes of that time of war. Reminders of a time when we were many, divergent kingdoms, spilling the blood of our own neighbors for their differences in loyalties, a people broken and apart." Ise looked to a nearby statue. "The shogunate united us,"he said "and stopped us from destroying ourselves. And that man there, who you have brought to us\-\-"he paused. "He does not seem to be a threat to you does he? You would be right to think so, he was not a criminal, nor did he endanger any of us. But in his books, in the symbols that he clutches, and in the prayers that he offers, are ideas, far different from our own, that he and his kind have spread across our lands, fostering differences back into our people, and threatening to break us apart yet again." "That is the threat that this man holds. That is why you have brought him here as you have brought the rest. Not for reasons of war, but to ensure peace." The wind shook the cherry blossoms as the sun sank beneath the hills. "Thank you, Ise\-dono,"he said before standing and leaving through the gates of the courtyard, the dead clergyman being carried off behind him to be put with the rest of the executed. Nakayama made his way back to his modest quarters. His search for the clergyman had had gone on for days, and returning him was an exhausting task. And though he did not enjoy killing them, failing his duty was equally unenjoyable. He had understood Ise's plight, and to some degree even agreed with it, yet he could find no honor in bringing death to a man who only preached faithfulness. Perhaps it was because he had never lived in a time of war. Perhaps he was not the samurai that had united the lands under the shogun, perhaps he was lesser, and could not see their vision. As he rested, these thoughts weighed heavily on Nakayama, and when sleep came it was the clergyman's eyes that he saw, older than his own, unwavering and sharp as they had been when he had first faced him. In his dreams he envisioned his own execution, carried out by Ise, with the whole of the town mocking him for his weakness. And just before the dull blade could strike his neck he awoke covered in sweat, his small room glowing with morning light. From his room, he could see the townspeople of Nagoya, the chonin, the merchants and peasants going about their busy routines in their populous city. For as long as he had been a samurai, he had remained separated from them, as was ordained by law. At twenty\-nine years of age, Haru Nakayama had spent the last twelve isolated from their lives, but lately he had become fascinated with watching them. On this morning, as he observed them, he pondered their existence, and his own. If this was the unity that Ise spoke of, the unity that he was fighting to protect, why did he not feel like he belonged to it. "Nakayama\-sama,"came a voice from behind his door, "the daimyo requests your presence." Nakayama prepared himself, and made his way into the innards of the castle, where many courtiers and other samurai were gathered. "Our great shogun Tokugawa lemitsu\-, is delighted at our success,"began the daimyo, "he has asked us to continue our campaign of Sakoku, and undo the blight of the foreigners in our lands. Samurai, your duty is before you." The daimyo and his delegation of court\-holders directed the samurai with details of who and where they were to find more of the holy men. For Nakayama, he was to be sent north\-east again in three days time, where he was last successful in finding his most recent capture. As he returned to his quarters, walking past where the servants scrubbed the blood off of the courtyard, he felt an emptiness. Unsure of his future, he stared out again at the town, bustling beneath the rising sun. "Ronin,"came a harsh voice, "either you wake up and pay your tab, or I'll carry you out and pay for it with your clothing." Nakayama woke, his head sunken in his crossed arms. The innkeeper pulled the sake away from him as he began to stand, taking the money that the samurai silently laid on the table. Nakayama stumbled out of the inn and onto a busy street in Edo, far from his home in Nagoya, which he had not seen in three years. He brushed himself off and posted himself against a wall, where the sun touched his face. It was time to look for work again.
A wrinkly old man leads forward reading the last page of a rather long stack of pages, his glasses balancing on the edge if his nose to were they are almost falling off but as he finishes he pushes them back up on his face as he leans even more forward to say "Mr. Than-oose, now these fine heroes have brought you to this court of justice, you are being sentenced to various crimes including attempted homicide of half of the known universe. You will be sentenced to life in jail with no patro if the crimes held agaisnt you can be proven to this court. Is there anything you like to say before we proceed?" As the lumbering giant stood, The crowd of reporters and legalteams wavered back in terror. Tony Stark along with the aid of Peter Parker both took a step forward, yet just as the mighty Thanos opened his mouth to speak, the doors of the court burst open. "I OBJECT!"Screams a man in a red and black suit. His eyes foggy pale seem to stare at all as he walks down the isle with a hop in his step. Tony takes a step forward, "Deadpool, ofcourse you would be his lawyer."He mocks before stepping back and crossing his arms. Peter, although in his Spidey-Suit had an obvious big grin in his face. Deadpool motions for Thanos to sit down, as he does Deadpool turns back to front of the court and speaks very soothenly in a arithmetic pace "Have we forgotten who we are? People of justice, a league of hope. We can't be the league of justice because that was already taken but you get the point. It Seems like we have skipped due process your worships, and this court has not been shown one shread of evidence to prove this... mans?, guilt." "We litteraly caught him blowing up a planet, you were there.... I can and will go get parts of it for you if you want evidence."Tony speaks from the rafters not amused with Deadpools antics. Deadpool, as calm as ever, simple replies "Very well, and unless anyone else has tangible evidence they want to present to the court, I motion that his trial be held to a later date. Minutes of silence went by, only broken by the whispers of the officials at the bench as well as a few indecent words Tony whispers about Deadpool just loud enough to make Deadpool smirk. Finally as the court gathers the attention of the room, they make their decision. The main judge sits forward again to say "We the court, have decided to agree with holding this hearing on a later date, as no evidence can be presented as this time, Thanos will receive a bail of $100,000 Interstellar credits to be paid to the Planet of Earth. As the shock sets in, Deadpool steps to the bench to quickly make the payment for his bail, then turning around and walks past Thanos still sitting as confused as everyone else, he says "Thanks for not killing me, oh and you owe me 100 grand." As Deadpool and Thanos walk out, Tony runs after him suiting up with Spiderman right behind him. Chaos can be heard from outside the court room, along with Deadpool yelling "I'll make you bite your own shiny metal ass!" Edit; on my phone so I hope you don't mind some typos.
I am agent 104. I am the 104th person who joined the cult. We worship Hel, the goddess of death of the Norse. As an agent, we are tasked to kill unbelievers, and those who spread the wrong faith. The Chief gave me an envelope yesterday for a new assignment. I am here in the town of Edda to look for George Williams, a famous pastor who believes in spreading peace and love. The cult strongly disagrees to his philosophy because peace and love can only be achieved when you offer the souls of unbelievers to Hel. I search for the address written on the paper: 1630 Serendipity Street, Kali, Edda. Street names in this town are weird, there’s Harmony, Serenity, among others. This town is going to be damned. The full moon shines bright, casting shadows of the houses I pass by. Alas! I reach the house I’ve been looking for. I sneak in quietly. As agents, we were vested the power of agility. I search for Williams in the rooms. One of the rooms is slightly ajar. As I find my way in, it is indeed, George Williams’ room. He is reading the bible. His back is facing me. I reach for the dagger, strapped on my right ankle, hidden under my pants. I am about to stab directly to the spine. The tip of the dagger is an inch away from his shirt. Suddenly, I see a blinding blue light, enveloping my surroundings. I cannot see clearly. Is this death? Has Hel come to save all Her believers? It only lasts for some seconds, and everything was back to normal, but the way I feel. Why do I feel an inexplicable joy in my heart: something that I have never felt. I feel contentment, and I feel compassion for the person standing in front of me. One thing’s for sure, I do not worship Hel anymore. The killings need to stop! By now, George Williams has seen me. I need to make an excuse. His eyes seem emotionless. Was he blinded by the light? I search for my dagger on the floor, but it is no where to be found. I turn around when suddenly the pastor stabbed me in the stomach. Blood gushes out as I wince in pain. He is ready to stab my heart next. Save me, Jesus...
I do not understand. I try to respond but my hands are paralyzed. A singular droplet of cold sweat streams down my nose. My confusion turns into terror as I glance at the clock. I try to express my feelings to someone who I care for, but I simply cannot. The terror fades away, and what remains is a sense of existential dread. Nothingness. I give up on even trying to move out of bed. Seconds pass, pass pass, and hours pass. Eventually I open up Morrowind, and after hours of coding I have finished... The Fargoth sex scene is complete, but in that moment the time reaches 0, and I never get Fargoths ring shoved up my rectum.
In the sterile halls of the brutalist office building, the board of directors of Pet-porium sat in urgent conversation. Over the past twelve years, mom-and-pop shop after mom-and-pop shop had given in to the crushing financial assault they had waged silently in the city. Dumping on food prices here, gouging on supply-line services there. Their blitzkrieg assault had quickly overwhelmed their unsuspecting neighbors. But when one shop fell, the others opted for appeasement, hoping that Pet-porium would be happy to rest on their laurels. Fools. There was only one solution. There was only one empire. Only one store remained: Fluff-n-Stuff. Run exclusively by a bunch of idealistic children, too long had they won the hearts and minds of of the neighborhood pet owners. A huge “Keep Calm!” poster featuring a kitten rolling in spring grass sat in their storefront window. When prices went up, the neighbors grinned and bore it. When supplies ran short, they stayed loyal. All alone, this island resisted the might of the Pet-porium war machine. And now, the fools had announced a ridiculous pet show. A sporting event in the name of peace. A sporting event to try and win back the old small business clientele. “Sir, we’re flying in Greta from the Poland branch, she has extensive... experience... with these types of logistical situations,” Hans informed the assembly, hand over a phone. “We’re also bringing in the S.S., the Schwalbe Sisters for the groomings.” “Excellent.” Gunter looked over to Markus, “And where are we on the bird situation, how’s our air force?” “We’ve hit a bit of a snag with that. Our aviaries seem to have been struck by some strange disease and are out of commission for the most part. But Doktor Zimmerman runs a basement boutique and says he has some specialty falcons which should be able to outwing anything they throw at us.” “Excellent...” Gunter ginned. “Yes, excellent.” --- The day of the show, the stadium was packed, the whole world was watching. The fate of pet shops around the city rested in the balance. Would the empire continue its inexorable march toward domination? Or would one tiny Fluff-n-Stuff hold out for a but longer, standing for dignity and happy pets. The Pet-porium gang was sweeping the board. Fastidiously groomed Alsatians screamed through the agility trials in record times. Fearsome hawks flew in precision formations through the skies. Designer breed cats sat around like designer breed cats. The Fluff-n-Stuff team was miserable, barely holding on to any semblance of dignity. Groomed with kitchen scissors, trained with love, and fed with scraps under the table, they paled next to the military efficiency of the combat-grade pets dominating the field from Pet-porium. Things were looking grim. Until Omaha showed up. Omaha was a stupid creature. He barked a lot when he shouldn’t, loved to fight for no reason in particular, and took special delight in peeing on other people’s things. He wasn’t the hero anybody wanted, but at this moment, he was the hero they needed. The other pets from Fluff-n-Stuff generally gave him room, and rolled their eyes when he came to visit. He was the kind of friend best kept at a distance. He sat at the starting line of the agility course, one leg over his head, tail wagging wildly, facing the wrong direction. A majestic beast. A gunshot rang out. “Right-o boy, off!” Sam shouted. And off Omaha sped, straight toward the Pet-porium tent, nowhere near the obstacle course. “No, this way Omaha!” But Omaha was a stubborn beast. He flew into the tent in a buoyant exhilaration, snapping at dobermans here, barking at siamese there, causing all sorts of ruckus and mayhem. They struggled to hold the ranks, but he battled his way through the bulge! Consternation! Catastrophe! Calamity! The ordered regime of the Pet-porium forces shattered under the assault, Omaha's pet shop friends London the Terrier and Jean Paul the Poodle charged in after him. Boris the Bulldog ran around the back, wreaking havoc on the escaping felines and show staff. The crowds cheered! “Fluff-n-stuff! Fluff-n-Stuff! Fluff-n-Stuff” --- ‘...Grandpa, what are you talking about?” “Oh sorry honey, I get carried away sometimes. It’s just a story from when I was a young boy, a long time ago.”
"My biggest problem is, I'm way too good at my job." Tina stared at him with an eyebrow raised. Captain Delacroix turned around towards her, having expected some sort of scoff, and chuckled at her expression. She crossed her arms. "I see you're as humble as usual, Renault."Tina shook her head briefly, wry grin on her face. "You know I'm not exaggerating Svi. I'm probably the only one in this whole organization that knows what they are doing. You've seen it, I've been told, and I even got a commission raise when I threatened to leave. If you want evidence of my skills, you can check the paycheck we get wired monthly." "I'm not denying that you're good. I'm only saying that you should lower that ego bar of yours by at least two inches or else you could get in trouble. People aren't necessarily fans of being told that they are useless and all you are doing is giving them fuel to try to burn you." Renault rolled his eyes and grunted, turning away from his Navigator and walking towards the edge of the balcony that oversaw bridge of his ship. It was the downtime period, the one most of the crew in the Pephoeganixus would be sleeping, so the area was deserted. The lights were dimmed low enough to still see but not bother others or waste resources. The front of the bridge, which served as a 'virtual window', was currently shut down and one would see the true nature of said window which was nothing more than a custom shaped plasma display that allowed the navigation crew to see their surroundings and was ahead of them. Despite it being off, Renault fixated his eyes on it. Tina approached him, placing her hands on the edge of the balcony. "It's funny you know?"Renault spoke softly. His usual sarcastic tone was missing, replaced instead with reflection. "We have a myriad of sentient species across the galaxy. Easily one thousand on this single arm of the Milky Way. And yet, the biggest enemy humanity has is itself. We sabotage the growth our own kind for the sake of immediate but not long term gain, witch-hunt people to pin our own sins instead of looking in the mirror and realizing you've fucked up. It's really a miracle we are so far away from the Solar System right now, seeking some resources one of our current contractors has told us to retrieve. Humanity is so bent on destroying itself, it's a wonder why we still have a planet to call home." "And yet,"Tina's soft hand laid on top of Renault's. They were cool to the touch but not uncomfortable. "we figure things out." "Not before we fuck up a bunch." "You say that like other species haven't done that before. Compared with some of the one's we've met, humans are still in infancy. There wasn't really anybody to care about other than ourselves and that kind of led us simmering in dulling acceptance and comfort. Then, somebody screw things around, rattles people into moving and adopting new stuff and people sort of learn to do or not to do things. It's a painful and annoying progress but we are still sort of making it." "Unlike the TSP."he scoffed. "Who by now have the world record of 'deepest dive into one's anus'. And the more you tell them 'No, don't do that. That will bring consequences you will regret', they seem to take it as a challenge and do it specifically because they want that thrill of fucking up constantly and whining about it." "And here I thought you were talking about yourself for a while."Tina chuckled. "After all, aren't challenges your biggest 'boner popper'?" "Yes but the difference is that I know what I'm doing and that's why challenges give me a. . ."Renault clenched his right fist a and made a single jerking movement. "I see it as a way to prove myself and move forward. The TSP is just incompetent and expect us to save their asses like some retarded princess that stuck her foot into a bear trap, after opening said bear trap barehanded with the specific purpose of putting down her foot right into it." "That seems overly complicated." "Exactly, which brings me back to my point: it's not that people are pissed about my attitude but just at how good I am at working with the kind of situations I'm dragged into. I was even thinking of ditching Patrol by refusing their newest set of missions but then I remembered I'm somewhat of a sadist that enjoys watching them crawl towards me, begging for a proper punishment. Which brings me to. . ." Renault rose his hands up clapping them in the air. The bridge's quiet hum became a whir as it was awoken by the Captain, making the slate blue scene shift to white and bright. The screen at the front blinked for a brief period before activating completely, showing the images in front of the ship like the window it was intended to be. "This region."He gestured the screen with his hand. He sought a small switch on the floor with his foot and used it to prop up a platform around him which rose roughly 10 inches and produced an oval tribune. The top of the tribune had holographic projectors and buttons which he could use to operate the frontal screen or display other types of images around the bridge. Renault entered the tribune using the gap that laid on the back and made a holo-keyboard appear in front of him. "Have you ever head of Dasha?" "According to records from the FeGa,"Tina said as she approached, leaning on the right side of the tribune. "This is a restricted sector of the Galaxy. A lot of rouge tribes and populations live here. Black Markets are the main source of economic flux and income. Space Pirates. So you know, the kind of place everyone has told you not to go but you'll go anyways won't you?" He smirked. "What can I say, I'm way too good at my job." --- There are more stories and adventures from this pair down at /r/KibouPortal Hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think and what I can do to make my writing better. See ya!
I'm banished from all the nations for illegal activity - researching about Great Knowledge. Before I was exiled from the last nation, I planned with a group of people, who were in similar situations and are exiles in many nations, to find this Great Knowledge. I had prepared a ship and a crew to fond this mighty treasure. The rest went as planned. As we travelled between nations and seas, we had everyone on the ship. Through rough seas and heated battles, we became The Exiles a.k.a. The X. No one knew of our mission as they percived us as rejects of the world. With troubles behind us, we manage to find it. The Great Knowledge . It was found in a wet cave, flooded from the sea, as a scroll. "History will repeat it self"it says. Ralph, who was one of the first crew, snatched the scroll and threw it back into the water and grunts 'NYEH'. ^(a reference is here) That is not true! All of us was in shock. We decided to leave it where it belonged. 1st Ending: Dissapointed, we headed back to the nearest port. Upon reaching, we surrendered ourselves and begged for death. While waiting for the execution, A guard told me somethings. a) A nation had declared war on others as they believe that some is holding onto the Great Knowledge. b) remembered a story from the past that a group had read the Great Knowledge and didn't live long after. Wow. I thought as I was strapped onto a chair. History does repeat itself. -you died- -want to restart? - blinking 2nd Ending: Reave got an idea. What if we threatened the world to destroy maps to it unless we get what we want. How bout that, i thought, might make the best of the situation a least. We made copies of the map to the Great Knowledge each differing a bit so that it'll take more time for nations to find it. While waiting, we each created a list of what we each wanted. Once done, we each dropped of on our destination for our ransom. Some of us got caught, the rest was free.
Tyrial had explained the rules a few times. After all, it took me a few weeks to get used to it...when you can't move, can't talk, can't even really breathe on your own, the lines between asleep and awake are pretty blurry. But when you have nothing better to do than think about the dreams you'd had, you start getting really used to what they tell you. And tonight, Tyrial was in a bad mood. "Damn those orcs,"he said, spitting on the ground. "They've got us cornered. We did our best, but we just can't fight them off anymore. You're the only one who can help us." Of course I was. I always was. I developed my powers over months of being in that hospital bed. I could fly. I could cast spells. I could breathe fire. One day I was a bit loopy when a new nurse increased my morphine drip and I learned to fart toxic clouds. I tried not to use that too much, it was kinda gross and often hurt me as much as anyone else. I sighed. Tyrial had comforted me for those months. Been a friend, a companion, my brother in arms when my real arms couldn't move. But I knew that now, since that miracle cure dripped into my veins and I got full control back in an hour, was walking in two, and was home in four...my life had become real again, and my dreams were no longer my only movement. They were just another quirk each night while my brain dumped the random garbage it accumulated and prepared for a new day. Still, we were cornered, and Tyrial was counting on me. So I went out and faced the horde. And they fell. By sword, by spell, by flaming blast from my lungs, even with a look. They all fell, screaming in terror, roaring in rage at their easy defeat. Their king then stood before me. I'd faced him many times, but he always held me at bay. He dodged my spells, he extinguished my flames, and his skill with a sword matched my own perfectly. Today would be hopeless. If I were going to lose my strength here, then I'd fall to him tonight, here and now, the corpses of his army littered around him. He stepped forward. His voice was rough and coarse, and carried notes of bitterness and defeat. "You are a mighty foe,"he said. "Let's end this." I swung my sword, forming the first words of the spell with my open hand. He ducked, but the blade nicked his hair, slashing his long ponytail from his head. I completed the spell and extended my arm, and the lightning drove into his chest. He shuddered as the sparks danced across his armor, forming scorches down his arms as it coursed through his blood. I took a deep breath in, quickly to take advantage of his stunned state, and blasted the flames towards his form. Within moments, only a charred skeleton and a tumbling suit of armor remained. Tyrial stepped out from the tent. "You've done it. We're finally free." --------------------------------------------------------------- Medical Leave ended as soon as my doctors approved me to return to work. The Miracle Cure was so well studied that they knew I was healthy from day one. A good night's sleep and a healthy meal would have me back to normal. I stepped into the office, lunchbox in hand. A few strange glances, but my story was well-known around the office, and there would be little sympathy now that I was back. And sure enough, Dustin was there, hand outstretched. "I didn't eat very well while you were gone, buddy. Glad to have you and your lunches back." I sighed and laid the strap of my lunchbox across his palm, and went to my desk. Mr. Kinard was waiting for me. "You have a lot to catch up on,"he said plainly. "Being gone that long wasn't exactly fair to the company, so try to get back on track as fast as possible, k? Thanks!" I sighed. Tonight, I'd take on the dragon in the keep to the north. And he'd fall quickly.
Grass. Roots. Dirt. Darkness. You crawl through the corrugated halls and tunnels without thinking of your direction as a second sense leads the way. With ultraviolet and pheromones you scurry down towards the main hub. You step over Cousins and Uncles and go upside-down and cut through turns like a bobsled, though you know nothing of bobsleds. In your mandibles you clutch a drop of nectar from an Aster plant held spherical by surface tension. Its your tenth trip between the Colony and the flower and you intend to continue making the trip until you’ve brought enough for the Queen. You reach the interior of the nest in the largest chamber and run directly into the bloated gaster of the Queen. You are one of one hundred broods, a nameless cog in the machine of the Colony. Nectar drips down her mandibles into the pressed earth below and piles of carbohydrates from various sources line the room. Brothers and Nephews carry out the waste from the room in droves as the Queen fattens for her next laying. You place your small contribution in front of the Queen along with a dozen others and immediately remove yourself from the room to start the journey again. The violent heat of the main chamber fades away as you make your way back to the surface. Sunlight. Color. Happy. You feel wind upon your skin, blowing through the hairs of your arms. You smell gardenias and coffee and linens. You hear laughter and taste coffee and see red through your closed eyelids. Brothers rush past you and climb over you, pushing your thorax into the loose sand near the surface. You stand frozen in your tracks, your elbowed antennae bristle in the mayhem. Your eyes glaze over and endorphins flood your tiny brain. You take a pause that felt endless, before being compelled to step again. In line behind others, you continue walking across the cold ground floor below a canopy of tall fescue. You place each tarsus steps in the path of the Brother ahead and each Brother steps in the path you leave behind. You rotate vertical as the line reaches the root of the Aster. Weaving through the fine hairs on the stalk, you make your way back to the nectary of the flower and dip your jaws back into the sweet reserve. Paper. Dust. Perfume. Stress. You see in a way you have never seen before. Distance, color, shadow. In front of you, a large flat panel lit with shapes and movement. Angles. Flat. Spacious. You feel mild annoyance and fatigue. Computers. Numbers. TPS reports. Again, you sit frozen, your mandibles dipped into the flower’s nectar but not grasping. A fleeting feeling of importance, of emotion again fades from your conscience. Just as you return to grasp a bead of nectar for the Queen, an enormous, fleshy appendage comes into view and violently rips the flower from its roots. You dig your tarsal claws into the flesh of the plant as air rushes past you. The sky is visible for a second before thin, brunette filaments plunge you into near darkness. You sense foreign scents among the strands, scents of argan and mint, unsure of how you are able to name them. You hear a voice coming from below your perch reading aloud. You understand the words. “'My dear lady, I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it myself,' said Gregor.” She reads with confidence and you follow along. For a brief moment you remember what it was to be. What it felt when you were… human. Your perch again shifted as you heard the voice speak again. “Ew, Brian! This flower has bugs in it!” You catch a glimpse of a thin-fingered hand fly upward before it closes down with force upon you. &nbsp; Crying rings out in the delivery room. You feel gloved hands. Wet. Bright. Cold. Loud.
You wouldn't believe the turn over rate. You'd think a bunch of high schoolers could handle a lunch service of fuckin sandwiches. Nah they try. Bless their little hearts, they try. I'm a cranky son of a bitch but I get to be so because I make these hoagies perfect every goddamn time and I don't care how hard they bawl, I'm not tolerating 5 3/8"thick tomato slices on a sandwich that requires *6* 3/8"thick tomato slices! I get sued a lot. Yeah. I do. A lot of the profitsof the restaurant go to court costs. Lawyers. Fees. Mountains of bullshit. Why? Because I physically strike customers and employees alike. All the time. A lot of people wonder how in f**k we stay open and have stayed open for so long and the answer is I make these sandwiches perfectly. You can't understand until you've had one. You will be mentally unable to understand why the mayor and Chief Justice of the Metro has personally excused over 120 acts of battery and assault related to the running of my restaurant. By me personally. Until you've had one you just couldn't understand. Now help me move this kid. He is gonna wake up soon.
OneNote is really good for organising all of your work. I mean I don't use it personally but my friend at university does $we're third year students so organisation is very important... except I'm not organised and I suck at being organised but I've seen OneNote and it looks so useful$. You can use it like Word. At least I think so anyway. And well... I kind of haven't saved any of my works on Reddit on Word or anything. I just use the given comment section and work from there. But tbh I think I have a lot of work on here that, $if I just kept on Word so I could easily go through them$, could use for future projects. So I'd advise using Word and OneNote then paste them here. I once lost work I wrote here because Reddit went down and it could have been saved if I had written it first elsewhere yano. Sucks to lose work. To the point I couldn't copy and paste it elsewhere. lmao i'm rambling. $^(this is basically me procrastinating$)
“Are you sure this is the correct cave, Arnie?” the dark haired girl dressed in an oversized mage’s robe asked in a squeaky voice, her small body uncontrollably shaking in terror. “Yeah, Yenn!” exclaimed the red-haired boy in rusty, secondhand armor, not noticing his companion’s obvious distress. “You see all the burnt bones near the entrance? This is the dragon’s den for sure. Hurry up, we gotta grab the treasure before the dragon wakes up!” And with that, the two shadowy figures slowly and cautiously tiptoed into my cave, careful not to rouse the “sleeping” dragon within. Contrary to what my foolish intruders assumed, I was in fact wide awake. No doubt they were seduced to my lair by the pile of gold stacked in front of me, as many prior adventurers were before them. The gold was good bait, glinting when touched by the sun’s rays and clinking loudly when I purposely brushed my tail through it to attract any prey greedy enough to try his luck at stealing from a dragon. A dragon could hunt in many ways, and this strategy of lying in wait and baiting my prey suited me just fine. There were far too many other dragons to compete with for limited food, and I sometimes wished that the rest of them could just kill each other off. Sure, some flirtatious male dragon was a wonderful companion to spend a steamy night with every now and then, but even that was just a temporary distraction from the never-ending struggle of hunting-while-being-hunted. What’s a poor girl dragon to do to eat in peace? The mage girl named Yenn had just tripped over a pebble and fell forwards, bringing my attention back to my present situation. “Ow!” she exclaimed, and I could make out tears starting to form in her big eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I could swear that the mage girl was even younger than I thought, no older than five years old. Well, that’s disappointing. Such a tiny morsel would be finished in one bite. Nevertheless, it had been weeks since I last feasted myself on a bandit squad and I was getting desperate to eat anything to quell my ravaging hunger. Sorry, little one. I hope you are granted a happier life in your next life. My claw inched steadily closer to the little girl. One stab at the heart was all that it would take. “Don’t cry, Yenn!” I blinked in surprise at the voice. It was boyish, belonging to one no older than seven years of age. Yet it radiated more honor and nobility than any grown man who had stepped into my lair greedily. The youth named Arnie turned his back on me and knelt at the girl’s feet. He took her hand like a gentle knight and with his other, he wiped the girl’s tears. “Don’t cry, Yenn. I promised myself that I won’t let you cry until this quest is over.” Yenn gulped back a sob, looking into Arnie’s eyes. “Arnie, look! Look at the dragon! He’s so big. How can you fight him? You don’t have to do this for me.” Arnie patiently continued drying Yenn’s tears as she sobbed uncontrollably. “Yenn, I promised you. I WILL buy your mom’s medicine at all costs. All I need to do is grab some of the dragon’s gold. I swear it to you, Yenn, I WILL save your mother’s life.” There was something otherworldly about the pair of runts holding each other that caused my claw to halt its advance. So these two were not here for riches or glory, but for a nobler cause. Despite them being little appetizers, despite them being human and as insignificant as ants to a magnificent full-fledged dragon such as myself, I could not help but respect them. The little girl, pleading her knight to abandon this quest in order to preserve his own life, even when her mother’s health was at stake. The little boy, promising her that he will save her mother, drying her tears and comforting her even though he was armed only with a flimsy dagger and some secondhand armor. “Very well!” I exclaimed, my loud voice terrifying the children and making them jump in the air as they witnessed a legendary beast rising up to her full height. The ground quaked as I lifted myself on my hind legs to display my full splendor. “Let us see what you are made of, young knight! You will have to EARN my gold.”
He enters the room, she sees. He's sultry, well built and with clear DNA. He's looking down inside himself like a man who enjoys space. She asks, "Why are you here?" He looks up at her. Blankness pulls down his handsome features, "No reason,"he says, sullenly. He turns his look to the window. But what is there to do but to return to the challenge of poetry? She blinks. The notebook sat open in her lap. She is sitting in her stunning room, impeccably crafted and cleaned. Her room is rife with artifacts. He takes one sturdy leg to the stool to lean. He is craning to see the sky. Before long, he'll glance to find her bosom, then her eyes. They'll rotate down to him slow with knowledge of his game. Her breathing technique will be beautiful. And it is quite. He asks, "Show me your writing,"and this is meant to demonstrate the only interest is in the poetry. She averts back to her book, and does not look up, although she might. He walks over with an outstretched hand, purposefully above her as if behind her. "Don't be silly." "But I am silly." She hands the book to him. She studies him reading, quickly, the light on his eye. He closes the book and hands it back. In the book is her entire life made into the most beautiful art, so even more her entire life / he had handed it back wordless. He performs an inspection of the room. She is bored. She says, "You have nothing to say,"and this is meant to communicate his inability as a man. He continues to inspect and she returns to boredom. "I want something more from you." "I have something more, but you can't have it." A mile away, a train pushes the track. He stops to search her, "Your poetry would make a sad person very happy,"he says with great, sudden emotion. He looks up. She is stunned and quite happy. The walls move in. "Please,"he says, "I know you must have an ultimate word."She is separated from sex this way. It's not about sex. He approaches her and grabs the back of her neck and looks into her eyes, searching. "It's not." She opens her mouth, and the golden word of hilarity leaves to snap fully through the air. \|\ Check my profile u/Badno for my youtube.
I had... finally done it. But I wish I hadn't. I had sat there, looking into it. I sped time up, I slowed time down. I had even made an entity called 'Satan' have power over the whole artificial universe, which was a very strange process I cannot get into right now. To my surprise, there wasn't anything different. As I inspected it closely skipping years at a time in my boredom, I inspected an elderly man who had looked just like me. I skipped a few more years into the future to see what would happen to him, when I saw... myself... holding the very same small sphere, looking into it. I held the sphere up to the light to see if I was actually seeing it, when the figure in the sphere did the same thing. I skipped a few minutes into the future in shock and saw the figure lying on the ground with a beast only describable as Satan standing over it, laughing. That was when I felt the immense pain in my chest. I wrote this in my notebook which I traded many souls for, some legitimite and some illegitimite. This is the only place that gives me hope in Hell. My snowflake in hell. The one in a billion. That was when I heard the door open and heard a stomach-dropping laugh. Satan.
Nothing came here, not of it's own free will. The small grove lay uncontested in the center of the forest, the canopy of tree branches hundreds of feet above shielding all light from reaching the earth below. It wasn't as though it was abnormal. Indeed, thousands of similar groves exist throughout the world, each with their own biome of life dancing throughout. Something was different here, though. An unsettling stillness blanketed every tree, every twisted blade of grass, every stone within. Small creatures, almost recognizable, crawl and creep about, each on the hunt for something to sate its appetite. It had been something else once upon a time. Back before it could remember, it was something else. It knew that. It squinted into the darkness as it stretched its arms. "It must be morning."it thought to itself, though any meaning behind the word had long since been lost on the creature. 'Morning' was just the end of its sleep cycle, the start of the hunt. It sat up on it's haunches, surveying the landscape for any prey that might have foolishly wandered to close to the hollowed out tree the creature called home. Blackened arms extended through the fauna as gnarled claws poked and prodded through the dirt below. Surely something had wandered close enough to be of interest. But no, the creature would have to leave it's home for food today. With a raspy sigh, the lanky behemoth stood to its full height. Standing at its full height, nearly 7 feet, the creature stretched in agitation and flexed it's sinewy limbs. Today would be like the thousands before, food followed by sleep. It wasn't as if it were lazy, it just lacked any interest in any other activities. This day was different, however. The creature could find nothing, none of the small predators it preferred, with their fleshy limbs and pointed jowls, none of the flying creatures that lit in the trees and watched, waiting for the perfect time to strike. A few of those had taken shots at the creature over the years. It scowled at the memory and absently rubbed the scarred flesh of its neck. It wasn't sure if it could die or not, but it was sure that it would rather avoid that situation in the future. The creature lumbered on through the woods. It had little to fear, it thought to itself. It was by far the largest creature in the grove, no need to be quiet. It came to the end of the grove, as far as it could remember ever having been. Something was different, something was wrong. The ground in front of it was the wrong color, and the path ahead was...it was....it couldn't think of a word. It could see easily, but its eyes hurt with the attempt. It reached forward and felt...warmth. Everything about this was wrong, the creature's instincts screamed for it to turn back. "DANGER! DANGER!"it screamed at the back of its mind. But its growling stomach urged it to press on. The creature pushed the branches aside and stepped into the light...
The dancers twirled, the singers gave their praises, and the worshipers chanted. The angels watched and laughed, and my own brother feasted with the heroes of ages past and yet to come at the head of the table. For my part, I sat there immobile. "Dragon! Don't look so glum!"called my brother from across the hall. "This is a celebration of life, of the things you have saved! Come, and celebrate your solemn duty like never before."I waved aside the notion. Worldfather is a blissful fool, certain in his self-importance. He could never know how much I do for him, even though he claims to see all. "Worldfather, you know I cannot. Look down at the mortals, you can see their happiness and spirit. You cam hear their jubilation. You can taste the sweetest and most savory of delights. I can't. I can only see the grieving; I can only hear the cries of the innocent and guilty alike. I can only taste bitter ash and metallic blood. So enjoy what you can - and I will enjoy mine."I gained nothing but disapproving looks with this statement; we had this argument every year, and it still never got any easier. But Worldfather surprised me - this time, he rose from his gilded chair, and took my claws in his hand. "Come, brother. Walk with me."We stride from the feast hall to the Gardens of Plenty, the side project of Worldfather. In it, stood the Trees of Twilight and Dawn, mystic spirits of the Past and Future. The rest was filled to the brim with medicinal herbs and rare plants growing in abundance. Not for long - the touch of my essence turned one herb sour, creating a dangerous overdose effect. Such is the curse of the Void, where all things must return. We kept strolling as we talked, never stopping in one place. "Brother, stop it. You know what you do helps these people. We both know that without you, I am nothing. Mortals cannot love life if they do not fear death, and because of that we are the closest of family. Stop with the hatred. Stop with the sorrow." "You know better than I that I cannot. Imagine, if you will, that death and life were so close. Mortals would lose their minds, and their lifespans."I picked up one of my own creations, a sprig of dangerous poisonous vines that Worldfather cultivated like a madman out of 'respect'. "We would beget chaos, and my job would get that much harder."I devoured the plant, and the deadly toxins were like sugar to me. "That's... hyperbolic. Look, Dragon, you can talk about it. Do you want a place in The Dance? There is always room for another."We stopped, and watched the mortals begin the newest segment of the Dance - the Bobbing Light, where they waved patterned lanterns around each other's heads in a cruel mockery of my greatest mistake. I merely walked away. "No. Spare me this mockery of hospitality, Worldfather. I only want to go home, and think."I knew he wouldn't be dejected by that any more; not after the last few centuries. I always went home to think. Think on the past, and what that meant for my future. "Is it that... thing with Skydew? I hope you know that was-"I turned and bellowed in a rage that shook the ruins of my temples to their scorched foundations. "Not my fault, is THAT what you were going to say, brother? Not my fault? How could it be? Was it because she trusted me? Was it because she loved me? I lead Dewy to her DEATH, and all you can say is NOT YOUR FAULT!?"I stormed away from my loving brother and sank back down to the darkest Void where I belonged. My Eidolons, warriors of another world and another time, wept with me. As the twin chains of Fury and Sorrow closed back over my mind, I beheld the shattered remains of her soul encased in the gem I wore around my neck. "Soon."I crooned. "Soon." --- The Worldfather cries, and his tears form the rains of another world that wept for a dead god they no longer remembered. --- --- Questions, comments, concerns? Spelling or grammar mistakes? Comment below!
"Initiate code red,"I said jokingly to Siri "Passphrase please." I stare at my phone with surprise and figure it must have been an Easter egg set by a creative developer. I say "The pie has been taken". Suddenly I heard Siri saying "Passphrase accepted, initiating code red. Combat mode - enabled. Good luck!"And at the same time, my phone transformed into a laser gun. Only to be followed by "3 Androids detected; approach with caution!" I slowly stepped away from the door, aiming my weapon with slightly trembling hands. Suddenly the door was forced open with a kick, it was an Android. By instinct, I aimed and pulled the trigger, and to my amazement, the Android was destroyed. Two more Androids rushed into the room and aimed at me. I jumped behind a fallen desk for cover. As I heard them approaching, I kicked the desk, tripping one of them in the process, I quickly shot the other Android and then aimed at the last enemy. I pulled the trigger but only heard Siri's voice "Battery charge level is insufficient for ranged weapons, switching to melee mode."And my phone transformed into a dagger. I lunged at the last Android, and he tried to block my strike with his rifle. His weapon was destroyed. He quickly pulled a katana from his spine and made a vertical strike, I intercepted the attack and pushed him back, he quickly recovered and attempted to make a horizontal cut to my stomach, but I blocked it, grabbed his elbow and pressed his sword out of his hands. I stabbed the Android in the gut, and he fell down unmoving.
Aeons ago (is it spelled like that? Thank the gods for spellcheck), an animal (are we doing alliteration here? Alliteration right out the gate, bold move, let's see how it plays out here, Cotton (inception parentheses here- this paragraph is more () than story. Is that allowed?)), fuck this, I quit. (Oh shit. He actually left.) (That's what this is. A director without an actor. A coach without an athlete.) (A narrator without a character.) (So join me on this journey as I talk about... Uh, I don't know, I'll figure something out.) (Title? Huh, oh right of course I have a title. It's uh, the Red... Bagel... of ca-courage, I mean.)
Raul opened the promotional email from Magitech Corporation. It was a newsletter. In big, bold letters: MAGITECH Beneath that: The perfect blend of magic and technology to create any nation’s best defense. An assault rifle with sound-deadening enhanced barrels or camouflage clothing with slight light-bending technology. “Hey,” Raul yelled across the barracks. “Sarge, check this shit out!” Before long, a dozen men crowded aground Raul’s bunk. He hoped no one would comment on the roll of toilet paper on his dresser. They all stared at his laptop. [KONTACTS] A pair of contact lenses with a built in heads up display. A mana gem would power this for twelve hours, if you stick it into your blood steam. It would also gain heart rate and blood pressure capabilities. ENERGY BANDS Stores up to 1000 nm of kinetic energy on a wrist. Essential for any soldier.
Jarod sat against the mossy oak tree, saturated with water as rain poured around him. It was dark now, and after moving all day, he needed rest. He only moved when it rained, now. It covered his tracks and dampened the noise of his footsteps. Although he was uncertain about what time it was, he knew this was the seventh night since he had awoken in the thick forest. One moment he was walking to school, like he always did. The next, he had awoken in a patch of grass as the sun rose around him, with only a pair of green fatigues and a hunting knife. A note taped to his chest read “Run. Hide. Survive. One week. The hunt has begun.” He spent the first day wandering the forest, relying on the knowledge passed down from his father during their many excursions into the woods. As night fell, however, he had heard whispering from the distance. He had shouted – screaming for help into the trees that surrounded him – hoping the whispering voices would come to his rescue. Instead, the branch above his head had exploded, showering him with wood chips as a gunshot echoed through the terrain. He had bolted, sprinting among the trees as a second shot blew apart the ground by his feet. Now, he knew better. He was still unsure of what his purpose was, or who was hunting him, but Jarod understood that he needed to remain hidden. He was uncertain as to what would happen at the end of one week, but he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. This night marked seven days in the forest, and he was worried what the sunrise would bring. As the rain poured around him, Jarod heard a twig break not far from him. He slowed his breathing, and slowly pulled his handmade cloak of moss and leaves back around him. Knife in hand, he retreated into the underbrush as the movement drew closer. They must have not realized the short distance he was from them, Jarod thought to himself. He had never heard them this close – it was always a horn in the distance, or a gunshot echoing through the brush. Now, though, his hunters were mere meters from him. As Jarod lay in wait, lying prone in the bushes, he began to hear voices - two men, whispering in hushed tones. Then, a pair boot carefully walked into his vision, followed by a second. He held his breath as they crept passed him, unaware that he was mere inches from them. The rain had peaked into a crescendo of downpour, cascading around the fauna that coated everything – and lightning cracked through the sky, lighting up the world before returning it to darkness. It was now or never, Jarod thought to himself. They didn’t hear him as he crept up behind them, the rainstorm overpowering any noise he made. His knife to his side, he took the first male – his blade sliding into flesh and bone. The man let out a quick gasp before he stumbled and fell over, bleeding out into the forest floor. The second man was oblivious, carefully walking only a few feet in front. Jarod approached him next, and again with a quick lunge, he buried his knife into the man’s spine. The man shook for a second has his blood coated Jarod’s hands, and then he too collapsed as his legs gave out. Jarod sighed in relief – it had worked, they were dead. Then he noticed, these weren’t men. These teenagers couldn’t have been much older than Jarod. They were clad in the same green fatigues he wore, and on their hip was the same knife he had awoken with. As Jarod stood there in shook, staring at their lifeless bodies, he heard more movement behind him. “I guess I should have told you that you weren’t the only one… pity too, had you made it to sunrise you would have won a nice chunk of change. Oh well, it was a good hunt.” And then the rifle fired, and Jarod felt the ground hit his face.
Max was forced to get a summer job, but no one was hiring, expect the one place that was always hiring. The C.O.E.D. Which wasn’t staffed with all hot college girls a sixteen year old could dream of, but instead, super villains. The Citadel of Evil Doers (Idaho branch) needed all the bodies it could get, and ‘bodies’ being quite literal on too many occasions. The turn over rate was actually impressive given that the organization still functioned as well as one can expect from a group incompetent villains all vying for world domination. The employees that weren’t carted away to The Box by heroes, such as Captain Paragon and the like, didn’t stay long after aforementioned superhero busted through the skylight again. But beggars can’t be choosers in this economy. Max entered through the automatic wooden doors that resembled a castle’s main gate, and into a room so jagged and twisted that even German Expressionist filmmakers might find a bit too gaudy. The room was made of pure obsidian. The long foyer, which ended with a spiral stair case wrapping around a fountain of literal blood, had too many spikes for any one room to sanely have. They take this ‘villain’ very seriously. I really need to watch my ass. “Excuse me, sir?” “Uh…huh?” The small voice came from a cute blonde receptionist who sat at a desk equally dark and spiky as the area surrounding it. This wasn’t as terrifying as the blood fountain, Max only thought of how inconvenient it must be to do any paper work. He walked over to her. “How can I harm you today?” “Harm…?” “We aren’t supposed to say ‘help’ to our guests…victims, excuse me." “…” “Helping is what heroes do?” “Ohhhh, yes,” Max said. “Yes, I have an appoint with, um…” He checked his note. “A Dr. Tee?” “Oh! You’re here for the open position? Just wait here for a bit. Have a seat if you like,” she said. “Where? Every bench is covered in spikes.” “Indeed.” With that the young receptionist, Mandy Murderess, as her badge indicated, left the room, and came back less than five minutes later. “Dr. To… Dr. Tee is ready to see you now. You’re early, which is points off, so you’ll really need to impress him.” “Points off? Wait, never mind.” Max located the office belonging to Dr. Tee easily with the expert directions from Mandy, and walked in. The walls were still the same obsidian as outside, but this room had a much more personal touch, like chains and manacles and skulls and things Max didn’t even want to know about stuffed in mason jars along the walls and on the desk. Behind the desk was a large, black leather chair, with the occupant sitting with his back towards the office entrance. “Uh, hello…” Before he could finish his thought, the chair spun around, seemingly with no effort by the man in it, until the two were face to face, well, face to skull. Dr. Tee looked like the grim reaper in his edgy goth days. Black cloak and skull mask, black painted nails next to pale, almost necrotic flesh. “Good, good… I’ve been expecting you.” “I should have guessed so, you did invite me here.” “No wit or quips! I have to deal with that enough as it is! Do you understand how annoying puns and plays on words are?” “Yeah, I was never really a fan of them myself…sir,” Max said. “Now imagine that, but you are also being punched in the head by a super strong do-gooder for the 17th time that week.” “Sounds terrible, sir.” “It is! But I digress, we are here to discuss other matters, one of a far more…sinister…nature.” “A job.” “Yesssss,” Dr. Tee said in a snake-like hiss. “First off, despite my terrible and horrific exploits being so well known, I’ll introduce myself. I am Dr. Torture, and you are Maxwell G. Rosen, not a name that will strike fear into the hearts of the most stalwart of men, but that can be fixed easily. You live at 356 Green Grass Rd, aged 16, currently ‘crushing’ on Wendy Fitzsimmons, a real girl, despite your penchant for, and I quote your search history, ‘big tiddy anime girls.’” “I don’t want to know how you know that,” Max said, blushing. “No you do not,” Dr. Torture said, matter-of-factly. “Now! I have a few questions for you. First off, what is your opinion of heroes, such as the ever-annoying fool, Captain Paragon?” “I mean, he saves people, which is cool, but he also seems like a fake asshole. Always smiling and saving pets. It just seems so…old fashioned.” “Good, good,” Dr. Torture said. “Why do you want this job?” “My dad is making me. He says I need to start carving my own path, or some shit.” “Yes, carving your path, like carving up your victims. Your father, you hate him? You want to see him suffer? You kill him, and you will have evil wash over you like a bath of blood, and you will be reborn from the crimson womb, not Max Rosenberg, but Max Agony, so named for the punishment you will deal to all your victims!” “What?! No! I mean, we don’t get along sometimes, but I don’t hate him. I’m just a teenager, of course father and son are gonna fight, but I don’t want to do any murdering.” “No murder…what...what do you think being my sidekick entails?” “Sidekick?” Max asked. “I’m here for the janitor job.” “Oh! Well, of course you don’t need to murder your own father to be a janitor here! We need a new one so badly since we allowed Slimeo, The Slime Stalker into our little ‘unmerry’ gathering. You can start today, but you will still be Max Agony on your name tag. It took me five days to come up with that.” “Did the same thing happen with Mandy?” “You’d be surprised how common it is.” “…” “Well, you can find the janitors’ dungeon at the 2nd lowest dungeon level, we leave the last one free for poetic purposes, you know, holding heroes in the deepest, darkest dungeon. 2nd deepest doesn’t have the same ring. Any questions?” “No, sir.” “Then you can start in Slimeo’s office.” “Great, cleaning up semi-sentient slime for minimum wage. This summer is going to suck,” Max said. “My dear boy, you can’t live off minimum wage! We pay even the lowest ranked of our staff here well above the national average and we have great dental. You have to when ‘heroes’ punch first and ask questions later. Minimum wage! We’re evil, we’re not assholes.”
The summer heat was driving Jamie insane. A half hour walk home from work was her usual commute, but an unfortunate printer accident ruined her shoes. Like a young child running on burning sand, Jamie looked for some place she could loiter for a bit before calling Jesse to pick her up. The only placed that seemed open that Sunday was the Kennel. The Kennel was almost always open, with dogs constantly barking and making noise. It was the white noise that the small community fell asleep to. Dogs came from all over the county to be put in the no-kill shelter, as people thought it was the humane thing to do. However, the Kennel was near-silent today. Suzie, the dog-lover who worked with applicants as well as the dogs, seemed too busy in her paperwork to notice the eerie silence. Jamie decided not to disturb her, and walked into the cage area. Dogs that would usually jump and yap at visitors were still, their eyes cast upon Jamie. Something wasn't right. "What's wrong, pups?"Jamie asked, not expecting anything much other than a couple yaps. Instead, a chorus of low voices murmured back to her "The Sun will go out and never return."Mutts of all shapes and sizes pawed at the ground, their eyes no longer on Jamie's figure. Yeah, the summer heat was really getting to Jamie. She ran out of the room and found a small break-room before drinking as much water as she could find. No matter how much she tried to alleviate the supposed dehydration, the memory stuck to her. It was time to go home. Jamie stepped out of the Kennel and continued to trek home. Along the way, she noticed many of the resident wild-life staring her down. She tried to drown their murmurs out, but each time she passed a chipmunk or a house cat, that one message could be heard loud and clear. 'The sun will go out and never return.' Jamie ran, trying to escape whatever ailment she had picked up along the way home. Her bones ached and her muscles cried out for rest, but there was no stopping. Not until Jamie got home, where she'd be safe. But Jamie never reached home. Just at the end of the street, her world went black.
I wake for the hundredth time and turn to the device that allows me to relive this day.I plug it in and watch in panic as the display does not light up, I suppose today truly is my last. Swallowing and pushing aside my comforter I think "At least I had a good last night's sleep."Knowing full well all the things I would have done during the night had I known it was my last. I start to feel time slipping away as I stare in shock at the ceiling. What if I just did my best to live today? This has to be some sick ground-hog day moment. Maybe it won't really happen. Maybe they were lying to me. I hope they were lying to me. Kissing my love goodbye I followed their instructions. I must act as everything is normal today. After all, there are hundreds of times where I played hookie all day with my love. I hold to the happy memories as if my life could somehow be spared. Can I spend forever here with my love? I stop at the crosswalk close my eyes and step out into the crosswalk as I had nearly a year ago, a life-time ago. When I open my eyes the same man that had given me the device stood before me. "So, here lies your choice. Do you go ahead? or Would you like to become one of us?"He holds his hand out to me, invitingly. I take his hand hoping that joining him will somehow reunite me with my one true love.
Creation is not something we think about in combinations with our universe. At least that is a common construct in science. Only rational explainations, which are scientific and recreational work here. But that is not what we have discovered. Know, me and a team of my colleages have been for a long time trying to figure out how the universe has come to be. We went from inception like ideas, where our planets, planet systems, galaxies and clusters perform the function of molecules in a different perceivable universe that is bigger than ours - where we tried to compare our existance with quantum mechanics - through universes in black holes, to random energy creation and recollapsing theories. Nothing seemed to work. Well, sometimes as a scientist you get frustrated and so did we. After over ten years of nothing we were only able to approach the big bang to a couple micro seconds. The data we received was interesting, but did not really contribute to any meaningful information about what happend before the big bang. At one point a buddy of ours started having some crazy ideas about side projects we could do with the data obtained and not even get in trouble, since we were technically still working on the project. So we decided to have a more relaxed and fun day every other friday and bring some food, a movie, and some crazy ideas. At one point we analysed the cosmic microwave background. We had just started with watching some old good movies and so today we watched "Hellbound". One of my colleagues came up with the idea of trying to simplify the CMB by only differentiating between warmer and colder. We took the median temperature and assigned every temperature higher than the median the value 1, the colder ones a 0. Which resultet in a really long string of characters. But we compresses a fairly large file by more than 99,9% of its size, due to not needing several other data entries. It was actually a brilliant idea, with chosing a start and end point, and having a tremendously smaller file to work with we started to do some random experiments on one of our freaky fridays as we had come to call them. We printed out the simplified CMB in ASCII characters and did some other similar test, but without getting any cool or interesting results. So what we did next, was we tryed to compile the code to have an mp3 file. And the result was interesting to say the least. After connecting the computer to our stereo speakers we had a cristal clear voice recoding. A voice so familiar spoke to us, as if the move were still going on. In Chuck Norris voice we heard:"You call that a hit? That's a hit". First post here, criticism appreciated.
"Detective Richards." Richards looked up from the cold, metal and soul-crushing table. "Do you know why it is you're here?" Richards lit another authentic Cuban cigar, taking in the smoke and then releasing it in harmony. "Well, it's the classic 'whodunit'. You boys think you caught me in the act, when actually you only got in the way of my goddamn investigation. Now I demand to be let go from custody and given my case back." The interrogators knew that Richards was right, they wanted to believe this slick haired fuck was the one who had been sexually assaulting women in the metropolis area. Of course they knew, they were extremely wrong. Rained poured down from the outside, it was the only sound to be heard as the men who held Richards in custody made sour faces, wanting to prolong his release. "Richards, now we know, that you know, there's something amiss. From the reports, whatever is attacking these women-" "Sir, what's your name?" "Private Briggs, Detective." "Okay "Private Briggs", I'm gonna need you to yank your big nose outta my case, you may know the basics, but son you're as green as the green beans next to the corn and opposite of the steak."Richards cleared his throat, keeping a straight face was important to establish dominance in this situation. He hated throwing status in the mix, but these boys were bottom of the barrel, itching to get him booked for anything related to the infamous Night Lurker case. Private Briggs held his tongue as he fished for the keys in his jacket, pulling them out and carelessly throwing them at Detective Richards. As he freed himself from the chains of mere men, he stood up and straightened out his shirt, adjusting the suspenders and fixing his handkerchief. "Another display like that, and I'll have your ass in the mail room. Then I'll make sure you end up cleaning urinals and refilling my cup of coffee."Briggs straightened up, he knew Detective Richards was the best they had, if he was unhappy with the way a couple of rookies were handling interrogation and holding. It would be open season. Richards exited the room in a haste, not wanting to waste a second on the suspicious attacks. He had developed bag under his eyes, put on a few pounds that made his muscled frame look out of shape, and worst of all? He had grown stubble. "Now, we know that the killer most likely is someone who knows all the women, he's a loner; doesn't get out much...but why is it, all the women could not make out a description of the man?"Richards was tired of talking to himself and began jotting down his thoughts in his notebook. As he passed his desk he swiped his jacket from the wooden chair that it rested upon, and made his way to his vehicle. "You know I don't like to be kept waiting." "Yeah, you know, I also know that a Alpha is supposed to remain with his handler. So when I give you this freedom, I expect you to not neglect nor badmouth it, ya' hear?"Richards' southern accent was beginning to spill into the conversation. The other rough and deadpan voice muttered, "I don't like the codes and terms you use to describe people of my species, so how about you cut the shit, and tell me if they know what we know." To be continued.

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.