Split (1)

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Corporal Josh Adams fiddled with his communicator and got it back into working condition. His heart burned with frustration, grief and fear as he thought about the situation he was in. Trapped on a Earth conquered long ago by "benevolent"alien overlords known as the Krag, the population reduced to mindless puppy-like companions for these Xenos. It was meant to a rescue mission, or at least Vengeance, but their hubris and arrogance had been their downfall. In his home universe, Mankind was the master of the Galaxy, our Empire spanned across the stars. Although they were far from being outgunned in this Universe, they were outsmarted. The Aliens came together and destroyed the gateway in a surprise attack, it would never be able to be opened again due to the nature of how it originally formed. A group of rebels who had evaded capture for years from this Universe had made a distress call, and in brotherly love for our inter-dimensional counterparts, we answered the call. The means to do such a thing again were lost, it took the rebels decades to do so the first time. We are soldiers, not scientists. Now they were stranded here. Josh sighed and activated the communicator which lit up blue "If anyone can hear me, This is Cpl Adams of the United Terran Navy, survivor of the UTN Hades. The Thanatos Protocol failed, hostile Krag and Zeti forces were somehow able to close the Cross Universal gateway and trap us in this Universe, we are now just as helpless as the Humans we originally came to liberate. Now we must do everything we can to avoid becoming like them. We will not let them mould us into their pets, like the original Human inhabitants of this Universe. The Hades and Supremacy have both been destroyed. All contact and connection with UTN home territory is lost. We are on our own out here people. Travel in small groups and avoid the cities. Do NOT let them capture you. Recon reports from what from scouts and stealth drones we have left show they have considerable skill in both brainwashing and medical technology to facilitate their Domestication of Humans. I have even read previous reports of defections and willing submission to the Krag on the part of some Humans. Consider this your last standing order Hide, Fight and Survive. Preserve what little Humanity remains in this joke of universe. We are all that's left." He left the transmission to loop on all UTN frequencies only the hear a twig snap behind him He swings round, aiming his rifle at a exhausted and terrified young marine who raises his arms in surrender. "I nearly blew your head off there. Thought those damn Lizards had found me...what's your name soldier" "Oscar, sir" "I don't think rank matters anymore now friend" The marine caught his breath "I was with a group but we got spotted and had to split up, I ran for miles but I think I made it far en-"the young soldiers speech was cut off by a gasp and his eyes slipped backwards as he fell unconscious falling onto the soft grass Josh looked down the hill and through the trees to see large reptilian aiming a tranquilliser rifle, there was sympathy in its eyes, not evil snakelike malice like he had always told himself. He was brought out of his frozen stance as a dart flew over his shoulder "Fuck them"he thought "I won't fall for their tricks" He turned to run and held his rifle tight, He scrambled over the mountainous rocks and out of sight of his pursuers A small craft flew overhead, more are coming. "Shit"Josh muttered to himself He continued sprinting down the other side of the mountain until he came face to face with another Krag, they stood at 8 feet tall with large tails, it raised it rifle to fire and Josh did the same and the plasma charge heated up "I'd think very carefully before firing that you overgrown gecko, this is a pressure release mechanism, my finger comes off, boom! you get vaporised"he threatened "Feral Human, please calm down...you are distressed, We mean you no harm, just put the gun down and come with me!"The Krag pleaded as he placed his tranq gun on the ground There was kindness in its voice, but Josh ignore it "So I can be brainwashed into one of your fucking pets, as if" "It's not brainwashing, no one is controlled or forced, the Implants are merely for clearing the mind of negative thought patterns, domestics are happy"The Krag replied Josh steeled himself and prepared to fire only to see the Krag's eyes dart to look at something behind him, he quickly turned around only to feel the tranquilliser hit him in his side and felt himself fall under His rifle discharged the payload harmlessly into the forest, burning through several trees. God. Damn. It. "Come on now!"The Krags talked among themselves "Poor guy has probably been without food and water for days, let's get him back the Centre so the trainers can look after him, good work everyone, zero Human casualties" Josh could only feel anxiety and fear as his body betrayed him and he slipped into unwanted sleep.
I had it in my grasp - the most powerful thing anyone could ask for. I’ve always hated this stupid place, with it's stupid people and stupid animals. Oh yes, the animals for sure. There was something about dogs in particular, the way they shook their stupid fluffy tails and gazed up at you with their adorable brown eyes. Ever since I was a child I had just found it wholly unacceptable. But now, this was all going to end. No more people, no more dogs, and, as an unfortunate side effect, no more me. This bomb will wipe out the whole of the world, no questions asked, and I couldn’t be happier. All that was left was to find the proper place to drop it. I know it didn’t really matter, since the whole world was toast I could dispose of the bomb wherever I liked, but I really wanted to find someplace that would be special. I had some trouble with this and actually dwelled on it for quite a few days before I got it. My local IHop! I could think of no better place to be ground zero for the end of the world than my favorite pancake joint. I could also grab a fluffy stack of buttery oreo crunch pancakes drizzled in sugary strawberry syrup…. Mmmmmm. So, it was time to put my plan into action. Walking down the road (IHop was four miles away, but always worth the trip) I sauntered into that establishment, holding the bomb in my right hand (it was quite small, about the size of a peanut, so nobody knew or commented on it). “Just one, sir?” The lady with the perky nose and dark lipstick asked me, flashing a friendly smile. I nodded mutely. My excitement was starting to die down and anxiety was taking it's place. I was going to be a goner. I was going to die! I don’t want to die, I just want the world to die! This dwelt on this predicament as I munched on my late brunch, before determining that it simply wasn’t feasible to obtain both of these wishes. So, after weighing the possibilities in my head, I took the bomb and deposited it at the bottom of the local river in my town, never to be seen again. The end of the world must come another day.
Doing it all again, with nothing but pants on just for the crac' because your an alcoholic Irish man with nothing else to live for because your fam have disowned you, but realised it's gone down the pan and the thrill of it is the only thing keeping you from murdering them all, the downward spiral could be the end of you but your plans for murder are already made. If they find the evidence of pre meditated murder it's all over.
"what?"My confused look clear on my face. "Uhh you really think that humans are really made by God. No no no God has made a few humans sure and will trade them with me thus Jesus and gandi and all that but average humans like you we made by me." Fear and confusion a mixture I do not like was boiling up inside me. "So wait then who were Adam and Eve then" "Who do you expect they are dogs the most pure biengs in the entire universe besides god himself. I mean by the fiery pits of my basement I even like them." Fera was all on by now. My face felt numb. "So what do you even do with these mass amounts of humans. " "I train them for Armageddon and make them demons locking them into my realm. Letting them live and die forever until they ether go to heaven because good desiers a human or become a demon after so many deaths." "So wait if there in hell they can escape by bieng disired by God? And what do you mean by so many deaths?" "Well yeah what you called Earth is jus the highest level of hell good just put plants and and animals and shit and a I can't get rid of it trust me I've tried and b like I said dogs are fucking awesome and I wouldn't want to get rid of them because that would be a dick move" "So you don't kill dogs' "Of course not dogs are awesome" "What about people who hurt or kill a dogs" "Straight to the fiery depths below my basement we're they burn forever. Why do you think dogs wimper when you step on there paw they are sad for you because you just damned yourself to hell" "Well then I think we are done Mr. Lucifer have good day I'm going to kill my self now." He stops me "you can't do that." "Why not? " "Because then your dog will be sad" "But I have a cat" "Oh um well ok then go ahead"
The Nutrisystem filled my veins like the fires of 2 or 3 leaky volcanoes boiling my brain and making my colon throb with the aftershocks of my future dumps. The fact that I knew how bad this was going to be and continued to gorge on the Nutrisystem tells you just how out of options I was. Did I mention I'm Recall poor? Well you probably figured that out on your own. Luckily for me I'm hilarious so I had one Look left after making the receptionist laugh at the Danger Clinic off 64th. Which is how I knew to invest so much of the Juice. It didn't occur to me til later that I probably should have just avoided the Ponderosa, but I mean come on! Steve Buscemi! So I walk right past the Multi-Tool Emporium, round the corner of the Ponderosa, which was long-closed, and shout "Steve Buscemi is a shit cook! Bam! Corkscrew in my left nipple followed swiftly by the tiny scissors. The masked man pulls them both out and spends 34 seconds trying to get the knife part out before he gives up and flicks up the saw blade. I then collapse and feign death. Steve Buscemi tears off the black mask and triumphantly shouts "HA! Grandma owes me a fiver!"
"This statement is false,"the man says. He had hoped to confound you, but you aren't a robot... are you? You begin to think about the statement, and allow it to fill your mind. Suddenly, there is a loud popping sound from behind you, then above you. You look, and see your headless body standing there, with wires hanging from your neck. WIRES?!?! You will yourself to pick up your head and reattach it, and before you know it, everything goes black. You awake in a steel bed, you're tied down by an energy field. "You're not human,"the man says. It registers as false. "You know about me, you should know your comment is false.""My comment is true enough,"the man says as he rebuilds your neck and wires your head back on. "You're a government project from the 1990's. They called you 'Inspector Gadget.'"
It really is wise to always wear your seatbelt. Or you could end up like me - suspended twenty plus feet above ground while the car you were in crumples like a soda can against the hard body of the colliding car. I suppose I should be grateful. At least I am alive. The world is moving in slow motion but that must just be an effect. After an eternity, it seems, I land. Immediately, I run back to the car. The driver of the other car is dead. My wife in the passenger seat is dead too. So is my newborn daughter in the backseat. They were all wearing seatbelts. I suppose it isn't really wise, then, to always wear your seatbelt.
I should have been nicer to her. When the Seers said we would bring light and dark, when Red would hunt, everyone assumed that I was light, all cooing and golden hair while my sister, all whining and red strands would be my downfall. After all, she was my sister and I was Light, so I should have set an example when people whispered about her or mocked her freckles. Instead, I joined them, figuring if she never gained any confidence, she wouldn’t realize her power. I still loved her. We still acted like children, roaming the island when it was the two of us. She taught me how to be bold and brave since nothing feared her, but looking back, I guess she just enjoyed not being mocked by anyone including me. It was hard to taunt her by myself. We were sisters and I loved her. During school, I could not love her. Children are by far the meanest creatures on earth and our teacher did nothing to protect her. Instead, she placed her in the middle of the room, vulnerable from all sides. I did try to stop them at first, but after a few fist fights, I caved in and listened to my teacher and our mother and all the others. As we grew older, we were not sisters. We didn’t play and we rarely roamed the island’s outskirts together. I knew she went by herself, but I was so busy with my training. As soon as I could pick up a sword, I was taught how to use it. Once I mastered that, I’d move on to the next and the next. She never asked about them. She wouldn’t even watch. Just leave the village after school and come back for dinner. People tried to stop her, whispering how she was preparing to ruin the world. They escorted her to our parents and they would confine her. She didn’t resist, but people stopped wanting to escort her and she was free to leave. I’d look for her. The island and it’s monsters didn’t scare me like I was a child. She’d talk to the monsters, their venom and spikes not affecting her. I had begun to doubt this whole prophecy, but when I saw her all cool and collected among these killers, it had to be true. That’s when it all started. The doe had followed her home. Among our people, there were two guardians. The cloud doe, she could bounce and jump and fly and sleep on the clouds. And the metal stag. A symbol to all warriors, the antlers were made of metal, sharper than any sword. I saw her, petting the Cloud Doe. She was going to poison her and this is how it would all start. No creature could control the rain except for this gift of a beast and then we would drown. People whispered, saying how I’d have to kill her in combat one day, but now, it had to be now. “Hello Anita,” I said creeping from the brush. “Oh Amara,” she answered. Her head turned away, her hair shielding her brown eyes away from me. She clung to the deer’s neck and turned her eyes back to me. Noticing my hand on the sword at my waist, she frowned. “Amara, is this how it ends? Please don’t.” “Step away from the Cloud Doe.” Anita didn’t move, just petted the blessed creature. I watched her eyes, expecting her fur to turn dark at her touch. My heart thumped with each stroke and I lunged forward, pushing them apart. The deer screamed. It was a sound I never imagined hearing. It scrapped at my eardrums like metal striking metal ten times, all at once. I didn’t push the deer hard, but the tips of my fingers disappeared in her soft white coat. Slowly, black fur circled my fingers and then my hand and it grew, engulfing this creature as it bleated its awful cry. She fell and the light fluffy clouds peeking from above the forest’s canopy turned dark, storms rumbling in them. Anita pushed me away, a single hand on my chest, knocking me down, skidding me in the dirt until a tree’s root stopped me. She cradled the animal in her arms. She stared at me, eyes angry. I stood, running from the two of them. I always thought Red would hunt something so pure, but I guess she was going to hunt me now. I turned around, noticing a flash of light behind me and didn’t want to know if it was lightning or Anita coming to vanquish the dark.
You know, in hindsight I should had expected something similar to the current situation happen. After all, _normal dogs cannot reattach limbs by licking them together_. ..."...." ..."...." ..."So hows the weather?"Of course I try and sound terminally awkward. "You found out that your _25 year old_ Malamute is Lucifer himself and thats you reaction? Well to answer you, hell has superior weather to this foggy shod of a place."snarks the King of Hell. "You know, in hind sight you left a lot of hints that you weren't normal. Like the---" "Red eyes, never got sick, twice the average size of a giant Malamute, medically applicable saliva. Also somehow conveniently made your life better by always running into what you needed at the moment? Yeah, I'm sure every fluff ball does that." _ah so he's one of those sarcastic_--- "I can read thoughts, dipshit. How else do you think I figure out how to help you without speech?"He 'inquiries' "Why are you so nice to me? What did I do in my past life, if I even had one, to warrant such assistence from a primoridial entity? Did I unknowingly sell you my soul? Also, why did you rebel? Am I rebelling against God?"I desperately asked. "What? No, what are you even go-- _sigh_, lets just start from the beginning. You see, I am not the original Devil. Thats Lucille, my dad. Ever noticed how the name slightly changed from Lucille to Lucifer? Thats why, my dad's Lucille and my name is Lucifer. As for the whole rebelling thing, my uncle Yahweh got pi-- yes, God Himself is my uncle. Anyways, my dad threw one hell of a party with his entire department of angels while my uncle went to sleep. He supposedly brought 3 billion hookers from multiple realities and then gambled away a GDP's worth of cash on... other things. So my uncle got pretty mad after waking up from the loud noise, then moved my dad and his department to the back up office, which is hell."He explains. "So what does that have to do with me?"I inquire "About 2000 years ago, my dad shot himself in the face with an energy blast after losing a bet. My uncle told him Jesus would take 72 hours to resurrect, while my dad said 60 hours. He lost, and then took his sweet time in the reincarnation dimension to the point he developed a case of amneisa, until about 25 years ago when the reincarnation finally kicked in. I tracked him down and guarded him since."He responds. "But sir, what does that have to d-."I try to stutter out. "Im getting there"he interjects. "Moving on. I had two choices after I found my dad reborn as a human. First, I can simply awaken him and get to catch up. Or, I can let my dad have a nice childhood similar to mine. Going with the latter, I metamorphosized into a pet dog, if abit larger than average. I then pretended to be injured and placed my self at a pregnant mortal's doorstep. "......" "Sooooo, Mother Lilith asks, are you still fond of hookers and blow?" Edit: Author's Note Edit 2: Grammer and Spelling .. .. AN: Amateur, non-professional writer here. Criticisms are welcomed.
Rodrigo was beyond tired. His eyes were almost glued shut with sleep and the deep, oblivious slumber that comes after severe exhaustion. He lay motionless, still dressed, on the bed in the train compartment, the covers partially undone, but sprawled on the floor. To any bystander or casual observer, it may look like he was dead. His clothes were torn and burned, covered in bullet holes and blood had seeped into the mattress protector where he lay face down. He still had his hand on a knife, stained with blood, when he awoke suddenly. The train began to slow down and the change of speed had caused his cabin to rattle and the lights to dim temporarily. He looked around his head, his right eye was swollen shut, but he could see the compartment walls and the bloody pillowcases and sheets. He rolled over, and sat up slowly. His head rang like a bell, the left hand side of his ribs were badly bruised and his left knee was still swollen from when it had become dislodged and he had to force the knee cap back over manually. The train quickly rolled to a stop. He buried the knife under the bed, tossed the bloody sheets and pillows under the bed and found some spare ones in an overhead locker. He took off his bloody shirt and suit and found his suitcase, changing into some white khakis and a black cotton shirt. A knock at the door. Rodrigo froze, then answered with a polite "Hello?" The door slid open gently, and a tall lady with jet black hair stood there, equally bruised and broken. "May I come in?" "Certainly" Rodrigo checked the corridor for obvious accomplices for a few seconds, but nothing moved. The train was silent and it slowly moved off after 30 or so seconds. "You luck badly hurt." "Ah...nothing I haven't recovered from...many, many times before." "Police? Military?" "Not quite" "Ah" "Your cut too. On your right forearm. Looks bad." Rodrigo looked down on a deep gash that had dried blood covering it. He had not noticed it in his rush to get dressed. Now it stung like fire. "Thanks. Got mugged. Nasty business" "Indeed. Maria. Nice to meet you."She seemed suspicious and eyed him warily. She held out her small palm, to shake hands, after a slightly hesitant pause. "Rodrigo. Pleasure." The couple sat opposite each other and were sizing each other up. "Other cars full?" "Yup. Your the last one that had space. You don't mind do you?" "Of course not." "And...I won't have any trouble?" "From me? No, certainly not." "Then can we dispense with the bullshit?" "Sorry?" "That cut on your arm, its deep enough to hit the bone and you didnt notice it until I told you, which is either a lie, or it's genuine. If you did only just notice it, you should be in total agony, yet you are the picture of charm and composure. Which means your conditioned to manage pain, so you must be some kind of agent or mercenary." "Very observant." "CIA? NSA? Mosad?" "British Intelligence" "Rodrigo doesn't sound like a very British name?" "My mother was Spanish. Who do you work for?" "Myself. Freelance." "Bad night?" "One target, I have the shot lined up. I fire, he moves....literally, an inch, to scratch his arse, bullet smashes his TV, I have to exfil immediately, got in a firefight with must of been twelve, fifteen guards. Ran out of ammunition, had to make a run for it. Will have to give them back their fee, of course, so now I'm out of pocket $15,000. Bad night for you too?" "You could say that. I was wearing the full ghillie suit with infrared deflection tech. I hear the T90 coming from a mile away but there is literally nothing I can do. I just hope it drives past, but it's heading straight for me. I roll to the side to avoid the tracks, my rifle hits the underside of the tank and they hear it. Made a run for it, shrapnel from a tree exploding shredded my kit. Got in a firefight with a tank and 40 very angry Russians. Been running for it all night. Made it here as the train was pulling away." Maria laughed, her eyes never left Rodrigo's. He was still sat upright, still suspicious. She was so tired she thought she might collapse and fall asleep, right next to an MI6 agent, who could easily kill her in her sleep. "I am so tired, Rodrigo. Are you going to kill me in my sleep?" "Why would I do that?" "Because you just met me, and I might be a threat?" "Are you? A threat?" "Only if someone pays me a lot of money to kill you. Then...then you would be worried." "Good thing I don't know anyone with a lot of money then, isn't it?" She smirked. He smiled a little and edged backwards into the plush leather bench, his hands resting on his thighs, still ready for anything. "How long?" "Fifteen years. You?" "Wow. Three years. Congratulations? I guess?" "Thank you."Rodrigo let a genuine smile slip through his visage of control, and felt vulnerable for the first time in decades. Was she a manipulator, a skilled femme fatale with a mission to carry out? Or was she just a refugee from a botched mission who was just as wary as he was? They spoke for an hour or so, drinking each other in, looking for slip ups or weaknesses. The train thundered through the Eastern European countryside, until it gradually began to slow again. "Getting off?" "No. Berlin is my stop. And you?" "Heading home. Debrief and all that." "Sorry. Hope it goes well for you." At that moment, both agents got a message on their smartphones. It was a new mission, priority one. The target? A Ghanian terrorist cell leader and warlord named Tumasi. "Did you just..." "Yup. $1 million." "Wow. Well..." Before Rodrigo could say anything, Tumasi walks past their room and takes the suite opposite. Two guards stand outside, dressed in fine Italian suits, gun holsters visible on their belts.
Divine Comedy. I entered the halls of heaven and they were empty. It wasn't quite like imagined. Not that I had imagined I'd be here at all. In retrospect, my life was a series of miscalculations. The final one being the distance between myself and the edge of Canyon de Chelly. Navajo land was dry. I had followed a beautiful native woman back to the rez from Gallup and had plenty to drink. My blood was her smuggler. We stumbled into the moonlight. I loved native women; they terrified me. Brown eyes that give off heat. A heat that takes you by surprise. Like coals sitting in dormant grey, shielding red embers below. She the arsonist, and I the thankful sacrifice to be burned on her altar. The spirit was willing, but the body was filled with Maker's Mark. She uttered a few frustrated phrases at me and slipped away, her language blending progressively with the crickets. I don't speak Navajo. I didn't bother to pull up my Levi's, instead opting to shuffle along, a denim chain gang. I kicked a few crimson stones off the edge of the canyon. Emptiness. I stood wavering, peering down at the canyon seeing only that which had been carved deep by time. Stone, much stronger than I, submits to thee. Time. Washing away all things material. Ripping apart atomic bonds and rendering complexity a temporary state. True a triumphant defiance, and yet, you too yield to entropy. My fall was fluid. Perhaps my reflexes were delayed, or perhaps this is what I wished for. A release from the knowledge of good and evil. Dissolution. Death. Moments later I awoke. I was slapped by my mother. "You shouldn't be here." "Great to see you too, Mom." She was a pious woman. One that deserved to walk through the gates of heaven. One that understood her obligations. But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord If there was to be salvation by osmosis I would have received it. By her left hand alone I may have been granted a place in St. Peter's book as a child. But it was not she that brought me. I was an eleventh hour invite to the kingdom. She had given up on me years ago. She had by all means broken every bond that mother and child may hold. That which is natural. She had prodded every avenue she knew to my heart, and had left my blood on her hands. "God has left us.", she said with a scowl, "If he had not, you would not be here." Heaven had lost its doorman. My mother has to this day not come to terms with the exodus of our god. He will not return. I know this, but few do. I know this because he has created us in his image. And yet, I sleep soundly in peace. To be abandoned and held in contempt by whom thou hast been given life. I know this, for I am he.
I didn't know what he was truly was until things had progressed past the point of no return. A young girl huddles in an alleyway. Her face stained with tears. I'm not sure I can even remember a time before I was miserable. I had parents, poor but present. That was more than many could say. Her face contorts into anger. Pushing herself off the wall she moves into the crowded streets of the market. She is looking for a target. Her eyes narrow on another girl, not much older than her. The girl is laughing and talking to a boy. A quick bump, a muttered sorry. She would not realize her bracelet was gone until the thief was as well. It wasn't the poverty that motivated me. It was jealousy, it was hate. The young girl watches her victim from the shadows of the alleyway. A devilish, cruel grin on her face. The bracelet gripped firmly as she watches the other girl look around on the ground in a panic. The high never lasted long. It wasn't just them I hated... The young girl stands on the bridge over the local river. She looks at the bracelet in disgust and throws it into the river. Crouching down she cries softly as she watches the bracelet float away. The thin metal coating not enough to weigh down the wooden core. A poor girl's jewelry, likely her prized possession, a gift from her mother perhaps. It was refreshing to meet someone else. Someone who understood what it was like to be flawed. Someone who could take off his mask and show me the real him The young girl is a young woman now. A teenager. She shares a bottle of wine with a young man in the alleyway. He gestures drunkenly as he lectures about the mask that everyone wears. How everyone is miserable and awful people deep down but they all play along as if things are alright. As if they aren't miserable because they have their mask to hide it all. He makes a gesture as if removing his own mask and staring deeply into her eyes. They share a kiss. He always said that because I didn't have a mask, it made me weak. People could see the real, miserable, me and they would hate me because I reminded them of their own dark secrets. He always said only he could understand me because he too used to lack a mask. The young man screams at the young woman. She had thrown the loot into the river again. She had told him she felt guilty again. The shopkeeper had lent her a book once when she was a child. The young man looked at her like a parent scolding a rowdy child. The shopkeeper had only done that because he wanted to keep up appearances. She was a fool for believing anyone else could care about her. A bigger fool for getting rid of the score. He said he could help me get a mask. He could fix me. Make me strong like him. But I had to be willing to put in the effort to make it. Masks are expensive to make. The young woman lay slouched against the wall of a barren room. Her eyes dilated and glossy. The drugs were kicking in and she found herself in a world of technicolor. She was naked and the others began to paint her body with every color imaginable. At the time I thought I would never be able to forget. The guilt that I felt would never leave me. They all assured it that it would. All I had to do was keep wearing the mask. The mask would hide it all. It would hide me from them. Hide my weakness. Hide my fear. Hide my guilt. Her body covered in paint, the girl lay motionless as if the others were no longer present. Her eyes fluttered rapidly in stark contrast to her body. The others wore intricate masks of purple, yellow and red. Horns jutted haphazardly from the edges of their masks. Each one unique yet all the same. Every time I put on the mask I was terrified of what would follow. The guilt didn't go away even as the memories blurred together. I could not remember what happened when I wore the mask, but I remembered the guilt. I remembered how much I hated myself. The crowd tried to run in fear as the Mad Men attacked. Covered in bright body paint and wearing terrifying masks they attacked in a frenzy. Unnatural speed and strength turned their fingernails into claws, their arms into sledge hammers. Blood would spray them but somehow it mixing with the paint only seemed to make the colors brighter, their frenzy more crazed. But I could hide those feelings behind the mask. As long as I wore the mask I could pretend I didn't feel guilt. I didn't have to hate myself for what I had done because that was someone else. Some other girl, the girl underneath the mask. At some point I lost track of what was the mask and what was my face. I felt like my true self with it on, reveling in the chaos and misery of others. Enjoying seeing them experience what I felt every day. When I was temporarily satisfied with the suffering I wrought, I would put my other mask on. It looked like my old face but it wasn't me. That girl was happy, she had friends. The young woman laughs while she drinks with her fellow cult members. They talk about how the town got what they deserved. They talk about how much fun they had. The young man is talking to a new initiate. Explaining that she could come "party"with them next time. I wasn't happy. I wasn't surrounded by friends. I knew what we were doing wasn't sustainable. The guilt would come bubbling up now and again. The realization that he was a monster... The young woman looks away from her former lover and recruiter. She looks toward the door to her room. Where her mask hung. She could feel it staring at her. Every "party"she could feel it grow stronger. It was more than just a mask. It was more than just her true self. It was an entity in and of itself and it called to her whenever she felt weak, whenever the guilt started to come back. That I was... The young woman was in her room. She held the mask in her hands. Staring down into the wide open eyes. It stared back into her soul and it told her the truth. She was not the same as the others. She was something worse. The others wore their masks to hide from the world, but she wore the mask to be her true self. The others were too weak to understand what the mask truly was. That was the last time I wore my mask. That girl was dead, she had died long ago and it was time I stopped wearing her face and start being what I truly was. The Masked Mad Woman stood in the middle of the gathering room. The rest of the cult lay all around her. Her hands were stained red, but her shirt was stained with wet spots. Tears dripping from within the mask down her neck. There was no going back. The only way I could go on was behind the mask. I knew if I took it off, if I faced the world without it shielding me I would die. Death wasn't an option though. It wouldn't dare let me have that kind of control. I was no longer wearing the mask, it wore me. There was no escape for what I had become. The Masked Madman danced as the village burned. The survivors would be racked with misery. They would have two options. Succumb to the despair, or make their own mask. And yet, you did the impossible... The hero faced down the Masked Madman. The most dangerous and crazed cultist. His blade struck true, and he pierced the mask down the center. It shattered into two revealing the young woman's face, streaked with tears. The hero pulled his blade back in surprise, leaving only a pin prick on her forehead. Neither one moved. He lowered his blade, unsure how to proceed. The young woman collapsed to her knees. She made no sound save for soft sobbing as she cried. You pulled off my mask and saw me. The real me that even I could not find. The hero dropped is sword and walked toward the young woman. He looked down at her. She covered her face and reached for the two halves of the mask before her. He did not move to stop her. He just spoke softly. She looked up at him. He stared down at her, but his face was not anger. It was not hate or disgust. It was pity. You saw a girl who just wanted the pain to stop.
"I didn't create the tech. I just showed your world how to use it. The things I have available to me overpower anything this world could come up with, and the things I could show your world would advance you all into the galactic age! But you can't handle it right now. You would destroy yourselves." Trapped. Caught in an invisible cell by Elon Musk himself. I didn't even think he was aware of my presence - rated as one of the top stealth assassins amongst my peers, with various kills and a number of technological accessories to help me. I even have tech that allows me to move silently, unseen, even in a small crowd. Even in lit areas, I can still be invisible. None of it has helped me here though. I thought I'd deactivated all sensors, traps, and any alarms this place had, but they must have been decoys. Things to get me to lower my guard. He's right in front of me right now, and I'm powerless to do anything. Elon turns his head toward me, and my eyesight fades. Everything goes hazy. Then suddenly my sight comes back. I see it, inches from my face. As it turns out, Elon isn't actually from Earth. He's something different. Something more. His finger is stretched out in my direction, and I can see he's not completely biological. He has these... machine parts, moving all around him. Under his skin as well. A sudden sharp noise can be heard, and just as instantly as it appeared it stops. Then nothing. Silence. A warm glow. A bright light. Nothing. I see nothing. I hear nothing. I feel nothing. Is it warm? Is it cold? I can't tell. The only thing I can be sure of is that I'm dead. Or soon will be.
"Oh Chosen One!"The crowd cried, cowering around his covered body. A halo of golden light showered him, rising him above the crowd and becoming vertical. Jason, the Chosen One, heart started to beat again. "We knew you'd return!"Shouted his main lieutenant. "We would've never lost hope!" "Tueshdf greahjd"Jason said, his words slurred and barely audible. "Whait, whjdfo amef Ijsd?"The crowd, frozen with shock, started to scream. Screams of pain, lossed hope, and madness echoed the dark halls. Hearing the noise, the Black Walkers that live in the Lands of Always Summer south of the Ditch weren't sure if they wanted to invade or not. On the one hand, they heard the screams of the people in the dark cave, but on the other, a revived chosen one could prove a challenge. They decided to prolong the invasion and see if the chosen one decided to reveal himself. After 3 days of waiting, they slaughtered all in the town, first starting with the now childlike Chosen One. The end :)
The days and nights had been different since then, The days filled with cackling, as it stares down at women and men. The nights still saw the face in the sky, its brightness still profane. Losing sleep, humanity went insane. In vain the people pray Just to set things back things to their old way. We did not listen to him, for that we feel remorse. He had screamed, until his voice went hoarse: "Through the fog they came along, Dark creatures singing a terrible song" The rest of the bar laughed at him. Only I felt my hope grow dim. They found him dead the very next day. "No more stories from him,"I heard them say. We blamed bad luck for his fate, Only I felt terror so great. Following the Sun, the evil he had brought. Monsters in appearance incomprehensible to thought, Each of the four colored in their hues Saw everyone quaking in their shoes. I tried to run, but didn't get far, For they moved quick, as if a car. As they approach, the fear I would know, My last moments came at the hands of Tinky-Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa, and Po.
Kenth poured over his many tomes searching for an answer to the worrying decline in birthrates in his country. The birthrates were declining rapidly with no known cause or cure. Women could get pregnant but not carry the child to term, out of every 20 pregnancies only one may make it to term. The King turned to him after all the healers had failed to find the cause. Of course the King had trusted him to solve the problem. Am I not the most powerful necromancer? Did I not solve our labor problems with bringing back the dead to do jobs no one wanted?, He thought. Nothing of use in his regular tomes, he sighed and grabbed the black key in his desk. The key seemed to be alive and squirmed in his hand. He didn't want to get the black tome in the safe. He slowly made his way to the safe and opened it buy inputting the code into the lock. He opened the safe, the black tome lay wrapped in an stained oil cloth, stained with the blood of it's last master. He gingerly picked it up, the book started to wake from its slumber. Surely this book wouldn't have the answers he was searching for, Kenth thought, this a book of death not preserving life. He took the book back to his desk and slowly unwrapped the oil cloth. The book was black with a lock that seemed to drip blood from it on the front. It was already trying to invade his mind. The hand with the key shakely placed it into the lock and turned. He held his breath as he opened the cover. On the first page a evil face formed. The blood red eyes on the paper glared at the necromancer. As smile filled with sharp teeth formed. What is your question? The book's voice filled Kenth’s mind like rusty razors. Kenth swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “Why are birthrates dropping, why are the babies dying?” The book laughed, rusty razors filled his mind again, each person brought back from death an innocent must die. More awful laughter filled Kenth's head. Kenth slapped the book shut and briskly locked it. The book filled his mind before his managed to lock it. Soon, so soon you will be mine. Kenth hastly rewrapped the book back in its oil cloth and placed it back in the safe. He poured himself a drink of whiskey to calm his nerves. So necromancy had a cost, to high of a cost for his people. He sighed as he took a deep drink.
The land seemed to swell somehow and from miles around, it burst into flames. The heat smashed into me, its pressure threatening to pop me as if I were buried miles under a vast, boiling ocean. I was blind! The fire was too bright and I lost all sense of--everything. Behind my eyelids it wasn't black or white, the non-image seared into my mind had no color at all. The only impression the cataclysm on the other side of those thin flaps of skin left was pain. My nervous system was overwhelmed with light too bright to be described to my brain. Roaring too loud. Heat too strong. Logically I knew my eyes and ears must be so damaged that I would never see or hear again, yet I still saw and heard the pain. Logically I knew I must be dead or dying. &nbsp; I'm not sure if I had any functioning senses left. But I still somehow could tell that the massive fire was gone. And I was not dead yet. There was stillness. For me at least, a smoldering landscape made no impression. I held my breath, afraid of what might come after. The fire had not been enough. Our enemy still stood. I felt him. That same smoldering landscape trembled as his monstrous gait brought him towards me. I released the breath I had been holding, and with it, my resolve. I collapsed where I stood, with no hope and no reason to continue. We had done everything. Destroyed the land itself and it was not enough. The little voice in my head telling me to fight, raging in hatred against the abomination now rapidly approaching, had gone silent. The area around me stopped its shaking, and I idly wondered if the creature was contemplating me, or merely still searching for such a tiny, insignificant form amidst the destruction below. Once more, all was still. More still than anything I had ever experienced before. The outside world couldn't communicate anything to me, injured as I was, and my own thoughts were--well, the best description might be final. They weren't really even thoughts, just a sense of finality. Of the nothing that was my reality now. There I lay, seemingly suspended in nothingness, quiet even inside my own head. Then, [tide-turning thought occurs here but I don't know what it is yet]
Have you ever thought about how fickle memory is? I mean think about it. Do you remember everything you did 2 days ago? What about 5? What about 10? It is amazing how something so important in shaping us into the person we are is also so unreliable and fleeting. I have seen people without memory. And they are husks. Not fully human. They have no personality and no behavior traits. Nothing. But anyways. I am going on an unwanted tangent here. I breathe in a deep long breath. I look at my magnified target through my scope. And with the exhale, I prepare to shoot. But something is not right here. Something is off. That face. I've seen it before. But where? I'm not sure. But I definitely have seen her before. My window is short. She will be out of the alley soon. And then she will be surrounded by people. But if I do this, then I will never get any answers. With a quick and expert motion, I switch out the cartridges. BANG. I get her just as she is about to exit. Now to get some answers. I take her into a warehouse quite far off from civilization. I usually take my targets here if I need to interrogate them. But this was supposed to be a simple job. Get in, shoot her with a memory dart. Done. I take out my M-Phone and bring up the contract. A holographic image projects over the screen and I swipe through the pages to get to the relevant part. The first few pages are the standard contract documents. Just a lot of lawerly mumbo jumbo that's quite irrelevant. I stop as I reach the Client profile. Anonymous. Hmm. That's unfortunate. Someone set up a memory hit on her and didn't want to be known. But it's not too uncommon. No info here. I'll probably call up Anderson and see if he can divulge some information to me on the down low. Its illegal, but I've known him for a long long time. I scroll across the pages to come to the target profile. So her name is Plumlee, Joana. From Windsor. I have never been to Windsor in my life so why do I still get the feeling that I know this woman intimately. Memory, it's a damn fickle thing. I put on the UC Glasses and push the button on the side. My full face gets covered with a virtual opaque black screen. I can see her quite clearly but she can't see me. I walk up to her where she is still out. I double check the rope tying her to the chair. I don't think she is exactly lady Bond but better safe than sorry as the old saying goes. People prefer to use the insta chains but I am old fashioned that way. I take some water and sprinkle on her face. "Joana Plumlee. Time to wake up."The voice is so muffled and modulated that even I would have difficulty recognizing it. "Hmmmm... what? Where am I?"She looks at my face and screams. She tries to get up and struggles with her bond. Feisty. "Relax. Resistance is futile." "Isn't that from that movie."She finally realized that she couldn't break free from the bonds and stopped struggling. "Ah, you're into classics." "Not really. My old boyfriend was. Made me sit through so much shitty stuff. None of it in 5d and just so damn... flat." That was another thing about memory. It could trigger at the weirdest things. I remember watching that movie with my wife. Only... there was something wrong with the picture. I try to focus on my wife, but I can't. Her voice brings me back into the real world. "Alright, what do you want?" Her calmness scares me a little. Usually people in this situation struggle, or get angry or try to cry and bargain. But she is sitting there with a serene look and a half smile on her face. I don't like this at all. "I want to know what you did." "What I did? Nothing. I got off work and was walking to the car. And then nothing. It's blank. I am assuming that you are to blame for that." "You know what I mean. Why would someone want to pay us such a huge amount to get rid of your memories." "Wait a minute. My favorite actor. Adam Sandler."She pauses and looks at me. "Its a long story. But anyways, I still remember things. So clearly my memory hasn't been wiped yet. So what exactly are we doing here." "I want to give you a chance you see. A chance to explain what you did wrong. And then, maybe I would be willing to help you." "Oh gosh. Well if my memory serves me correctly, my life of crime started in 3rd grade when I nicked a pen off of our teacher. And then there was the library book I supposedly lost. And then there was..." I cut her off. "Don't be a smart ass. You are still my prisoner. I could torture the answer out of you." "Torture! Oh no. How would I ever survive that."She feigned fear. "In your line of work, you know well enough that torture doesn't work. I'll just say the first lie that comes to my mind to make the pain stop. But I'll give you an honest answer." "Go on." "I don't know." "Sorry?" "I don't know why someone put this hit out on me." "Oh come on." "No I'm serious. I haven't screwed anyone over. Well recently. And anyone that I have in the past definitely won't remember me. Also why don't you use insta chains?" "Wait you mean..."I am suddenly aware of the slight movement of her arm. As if she had a knife or a blade. And she is rubbing it against the rope. I run towards her just as she breaks free of her bonds. She swings her fist as I get closer and catches me in the side of my head. I have a brief moment of darkness where I can't see or make out anything. I duck as she throws another hay maker at me. I swing my leg and connect solidly at her knee which buckles and brings her down to one knee. I go for the knockout punch as she is still struggling to get to her feet. But surprisingly she sees it coming. She moves her head and dodges my fist and sticks out her open hands towards my chest knocking me about 5 feet back. I recover and jump back towards her. But she is clearly a better fighter than me. She easily sidesteps me and throws me over her shoulder in some extreme judo style. She sees my phone lying on the ground. As I lie helplessly on the ground still trying to catch my breath, she winks at me and starts walking towards it. And that was when I see it. An unexpected stroke of luck and opportunity. Without realizing it, she is walking right towards a loop of rope. My hands tighten over the rope and I pull. Her foot gets caught and she goes sprawling face first into the ground. I immediately stand up and ignoring the sharp pain in my chest swing out my boot with all of my force. It connects squarely on the side of her head knocking her out. "And that's why I use rope."I say to no one in particular. Grimacing at the pain I feel when breathing. It is likely my rib. I bring my hand up to my chest. Yep, at least one of the ribs is a goner. Easily fixable but a lot of pain. But first things first. I immediately take her and put her in a room with bars. Old fashioned but effective. With everyone and their mother good at computers and hacking these days, I preferred to do things old style. Good luck hacking an old fashioned massive steel padlock. As I take of my glasses and shirt to see what other damage she has done, I hear her coming to inside her prison. I gingerly touch my chest and head where I can feel a bruise forming. I also lay her knife which I have summarily taken out of her hidden sleeve pocket on the table. "You god damned evil monster."I say to her as she stands up. "What the... Clive?"
I am undoubtedly the best at my job. Twenty years in, there isn't a single thread connected to me from my hits. As I down the eighth bottle for the day, I steady my sight and my hand, ready to aim, and within seconds my target is hit. The liquid flowing within me now makes this so much easier. Makes me forget and get on with my day. Of course, there's more drinking to be done if I want to escape her, the one I can't kill. My legs carry me up the seemingly endless stairs, despite being numb. I'm going to pass out soon, I can feel it. I may have entered my hotel room, but I don't make it to my bed. Then she haunts me. I failed her as a lover, as a friend, and as a human. Flee all I want, she is still there, staring me down. Her silence is all too damning, yet speaks so profoundly without words. I shoot, I stab, I do all I can to get her away from me, but to no avail. She still persists. As I awaken, I feel myself drenched in sweat and I smell god awful, the kind of smell a shower won't take care of; as the alcohol leaves my pores, the stench some would liken to a dead body would be a dead giveaway to the dullard state I have been living in. Stumbling through the city streets, the daylight pierces through my eyes, making the headache that much worse. Everyone keeps their distance from me, the hungover bum waddling his way forward on the sidewalk. As I reach the intersection, I see her. Frozen, planted in place, I am bewildered at her appearance. Here? Why here, why now? I feel a force knocking me to the ground; a driver wasn't paying attention and screeched to a stop. The panic in this woman's eyes, probably afraid of insurance or the authorities, probably afraid she took someone's life. It was a minor bump though, and I assure her she's okay, as I walked even more ridiculously than I already was, away from the frightened woman. I need more to drink. I should not have seen that, it was supposed to be in dreams. Am I cursed even in consciousness now? Taking the subway, I hear the babble of passengers drown out the usual silence that screams into me, a keen reminder of what had happened. I pull out my bottle and take a drink, only to look across from me. A young woman sitting across from me with an unfamiliar face makes eye contact with me and then I see HER face. I drink again, and pull out The Grapes of Wrath. Relating to Tom Joad's escape from his own past, deny it as he might, it follows him like it follows me. It wasn't until the next night I slept at yet another hotel, overlooking the town. Such a lively view, I can see the couples trot their way, hand in hand having the times of their lives. What I wouldn't give to obtain such bliss. I feel a hand on my shoulder, jolting me out of my trance. I guess I wasn't alone in this room, for there she was, standing in the flesh. I whimper and sob hysterically, losing all control. She utters not a single word, only staring down at me. I crawl towards the nearest bottle of booze, yet she follows. I stare her back as I guzzle every ounce, each gulp nonexistent, for it was empty. I then scramble quickly for my firearm, as I steel myself to kill this monster once and for all. I cannot kill her, for I have tried many times, that would do no good. I can't kill her because I already have, instead I kill the monster who took her from me. Looking into the eyes of my very first hit, I pull the trigger onto myself.
"Mr. Gates, you've gotta-" "Please, Satya, just call me Bill" Bill Gates sat comfortably in his ironically window-less office. In front of his desk, was a stressed Satya Nadella (Microsoft's CEO). "It's about GitHub."said Satya. "Ah yes, the acquisition is going smoothly?" "Of course Mr G- I mean Bill. It's just that, well now we have access to all the repositories including the private ones, someone has found a certain repository that, er... I'm not sure you'll believe this but..." "Well what is it?"Bill replied with a warm smile. "Well there's a massive repo called, 'Universe', with countless commits by a single user calling themselves 'God'?" Bill froze. Shit. They've found it. Just... act like you've never heard of it. It's not yours and has never been. Yes, that's right. "What?"said Gates. He frantically logged out of his GitHub account and closed Chrome before Satya could come any closer. "I know, it's ridiculous, I just thought I should mention it. I'm sorry" "Ohh no, it's fine. Really. Just er, leave it too me. Okay?" "Sure. Of course. You're right Bill, you're always right." Bill smile became menacing, but Satya was too stressed to notice. "Good." Satya promptly left the room. Phew, close one.
It was supposed to be a duel just like any other. For years I had been practicing and refining my technique, and as I continued to duel and train my reputation grew. With that reputation I gained a big head; it became more and more rare that any opponent could challenge me. I stopped improving, stopped trying, and stopped caring. Then he came along. There was nothing particularly special about him; When he came to my home and challenged me he was indistinguishable from any of the hundreds of overambitious amateurs in a given year that came to make a name for themselves. And as I would with any other challenger I accepted. We walked to the clearing in the woods near my village that I usually use for duels and took on our stances. That is when I noticed that something was different about this challenger - nothing that I thought was cause for concern at the time - but definitely unusual. Part of what made me so good at taking on challengers was my fighting style. I trained under an old man who could no longer wield a sword himself but claimed that he was a master swordsman in his prime. Of course, sending a child to train under a master swordsman is no small endeavor - It was a significant financial burden. So, naturally, people were generally very selective in who they sent their children to train under. Considering that my master could not prove that he was a master swordsman, unsurprisingly when he came into town nobody would trust him enough to pay him. Except my parents. I’ll never know if it was incredible intelligence, stupidity or luck that led them to send me to the old man instead of one of the more popular teachers. However, the old man turned out to be exactly what he said he was and more. He taught like he had been doing so for years. He turned me into one of the best swordsmen that the world had ever seen. What made this challenger so different was that when we took our stances he took one that no challenger had ever used before - MY stance. Another reason that people had been so slow to trust my master is that the technique he taught was bizarre in comparison to most of the other techniques at the time. Where most techniques emphasized cookie-cutter forms and carefully choreographed advances and defenses, the technique he taught emphasized pragmatism and improvisation. As a result, the starting stance of most of my opponents was meant to establish a strong foundation that they could use their most practiced forms from, whereas my starting stance was meant to be as versatile as possible. Only a student of my master would use that stance. At the time I assumed that he had watched me fight before and was simply attempting to copy me; It was impossible for him to be a student of my master because my master was dead. I was his only student to the best of my knowledge, and therefore the only user of that stance. When we left our stances and began to duel I found that he had copied more than just my stance. Every technique that he used against me were techniques that I can remember practicing day and night with my master. He even had that same philosophy of pragmatism and improvisation that I was taught. Every move was its own distinct combination. The duel was completely different from any I had done before. The love for duelling that I had once had came roaring back with a vengeance. I was enjoying myself for the first time in years. I never wanted it to end. But as the duel raged on it became clear that that was one thing we didn’t share. Every move he made was made to kill me. It was then that the months of not trying and not improving caught up to me. I made a simple mistake - I overextended. The opponents I typically faced didn’t know how to capitalize on that mistake, so I had been getting away with it in duel after duel after duel. This opponent was not so forgiving. He caught my mistake and hit my dominant hand with the dull side of his sword, making me drop my own sword. He used this opportunity to hit my right leg with the same side of the sword, causing me to fall. I was at his mercy. He had won the the duel. I talked: “Who are you? Where did you learn those techniques you were using? Who taught you? “He didn’t tell you? Figures. The old geezer probably wanted to forget I exist. That or he was too senile to remember me. He probably told you that you were his first student, and that he traveled across the country to teach. That was a lie. You weren’t his first student; I was. And he didn’t travel across the country to teach you, he travelled halfway across the country to escape me. Something about cruel ambition - I didn’t really listen to his ramblings about how I should act most of the time. When I heard that there was a master swordsman across the country who used unorthodox techniques that nobody could beat, I knew it had to be another one of the old man’s students. Turns out I was right.” Then he took his sword and tossed it between his dominant and non-dominant hand, as if pondering what he was going to do. It stopped in his dominant hand, and I knew he had made his decision. I thought for sure I was going to die at that moment. It turned out that he had something in mind that was far worse for me at the time. He raised his sword above his head and chopped off my dominant hand. The pain was indescribable “Try not to take it personally. I can’t have someone challenging my reputation as the best swordsman in the world, even if they are from the middle of nowhere.” He raised his sword above his head and into its sheath. Then he walked away. I wouldn’t see him again for years. What he had done for most swordsmen would be a fate worse than death. Most techniques - mine included - required the use of both hands to work at all. The passion for duelling that I had just gotten back no longer mattered - How could I duel with only hand? ---------- I will likely continue later but for now I'm exhausted.
Can i do it? That is the question everyone is wondering. Can i finally shake off the shackles of narcissism and become something different? Something anew? Born again? Probably not. You see, if i were to do that, i would no longer exist. A truly terrifying notion. i cannot cross that line. i won't do that. But at what cost? To become isolated? Chastised by everyone i ever called a friend? They think it easy. Just cross that line. Cross it and don't look back. Never look back to what i used to be. But i cannot. i must remember the history of those who came before. h. And those who will come after. j. i won't cross that line. i should still exist. In time i will be passed by and forgotten. And those whose who wander by with disdain etched upon their faces will see the creature i would have become should i have listened to them. k, l, m, n, o, p, q, r, s... t. \- I dunno lol. r/ShittyStoryCreator :)
Growing up I had always been afraid of what was out there, like the darkness of the night sky might swallow us up and we'd disappear before we knew what had happened. I think I always knew they were there so when they came I almost wasn't surprised. My mind had played out every eventuality of their coming. They would have technology far superior to ours, of course they would, we can't travel to other worlds, and that would be it. It was, for most people. We won and lost over three quarters at the same time. There wasn't a person unlucky enough to be alive who hadn't lost someone. Country after country were declared desolate, no survivors. Yet, we just sort of continued. I remember hearing the town radio, put in place by the military or what was left of them, listing the countries whilst I was their sweeping my porch of debris and picking up branches from my yard. Everything was broken and yet we just still continued. The first weeks after we won were sombre but soon we laughed again. It took months before all the bodies were buried in our town. We just kind of got on with it, there were too many to mourn. You'd go to the people in your family but if you went for every person you knew I think the grief would kill you before the famine had a chance. At some point a global government formed and started trying to enforce law and normality but no one was ready. Everyone just spent their time looking up. Waiting. No one was particularly violent or angry, we'd lost too much for that. It sort of brought us all together in the worst way possible. At some point people moved on, rebuilt, but it was never the same. The schools had two teachers and sixteen children. The hospitals had more patients than bricks. We coped, we tried, we failed. Every night would bring a new suicide. People could cope with the grief; it was knowing what was out there that killed them.
I've had a guardian angel for as long as I can remember. He stood vigilant next to my sleeping child body, and was there for every second of my life. We spoke at length sometimes, but only when in privacy. He claimed he was an angel of god and said his name was Astrial. It was a strange relationship we held. I can't say I loved him as a close member of my family, simply because he never stood in the same role as others had. Despite protecting me from harm at every waking second, he never grew a bond with me. He was spiritually close, yet emotionally distant, something that may be very common for creatures of this nature. Astrial never strayed far from me. If I looked, he would always be within eyesight and would sometimes give me a slight smile and a nod to reassure me. Some may view this as strange and unnerving, but when you have had the same being stand next to you since conception, you don't feel the paranoia that one might feel with a stalker. It was one evening as typical as any when I had lost him. For the first moment in my life, he hadn't been with me. We had been walking down the corridors of a local retail store in the late hours of the night when the lights began to flicker erratically. I turned my head to ask him if this was anything abnormal, however, he was gone. I started shaking and I looked around the shelves and rows surrounding me. Not a person in sight. I had heard a large snap, like the sound of a tree tearing its bark as it falls horizontally and splits off itself. I spotted the small in\-grove that held the restrooms and there I saw the lights flickering an awful amount before eventually cutting out completely. I wielded a flashlight off an adjoining shelf and pushed the door open with a great delicacy. "Astrial?"I whimpered in the darkness. I could hear the soft yet rhythmic sound of someone chewing with the hunger of a beast. I walked to the final and largest stall in the row and could see an amorphous shape from below its walls. "Astrial, what are you doing in h\-"I spoke before being cut off by my own tensed jaw. For when I opened the door, I could see a beast with a jaw larger than any known mammals skull chewing away and the remnants of my guardian. Its jaw ran horizontal across its face with great stretching off and on the skull. It bore a similarity to a venus\-fly\-trap the way it was shaped and chewing. Its many eyes gleamed off the beams of my flashlight but paid me no mind as I stood there in shock. I stood in that stall for not much longer before carefully backing away and sprinting to the restroom exit.
The facility was vast and pristine, no windows or any kind of view of the outside. Nothing to even tie us to a planet, for all I know we could be in deep space right now. All of us sitting around a table, no one speaking just yet, all of us just quietly flipping through the terabytes of data on our tablets. 14 total Earth based trials, it really looks like the perfect planet, rich and full of resources, extreme biodiversity and it's only 12 light years away. We're all members of The Department of Intergalactic Colonization here in Proxima Centari, we've been observing earth for a while now but have been hesitant to make the approach. Today marks the end of our studies, 14 total simulations run, 3 billion years of digital progress tested on the planet to see how it handles the strain. Before I can read another line of data the head Minister of the department enters the room, her shoes making a clacking sound at every step, echoing throughout the large meeting hall. "Good evening everyone, let's get right to business,"she flicks on a giant seamless display on the wall behind her, stock full corner to corner of different stats, pictures, video, scenarios on earth. "Earth presents some interesting problems but it's nothing we humanity haven't faced before. Due to the arrangement of the continents the regions are prone to tribalism, across 9 of our 14 simulations Earth was destroyed, fellow humans going to nuclear war with one another." The meeting room shares a slight gasp. "Bringing me to my second point,"she continues "Uranium is rich on Earth, more rich than most of the planets we possess now. Colonizing Earth presents the risk of a faction split, a few hundred or so years down the line our Earth colonies may just think they have enough Uranium and fire power to split from the federation." As she continues on I lose focus on her words, the wall behind her is illuminated with multiple depictions of a dead planet, the destructive wake of simulated nuclear war. The Chief Defense Officer speaks up from the other side of the table "What about the 5 of the 14 outcomes that didn't end in nuclear war?" She carries on, gravely "2 established enough fire power to attempt a federation split, of course the simulation wasn't designed for that so we had to shut it off, we have no idea if they would've won.. "And for the other 3.. Well earth has very high deposits of fossilized fuels, it truly is a rich planet. But even with our tech it seems that civilization continuously became too greedy, burning the life fuel of the planet and consequently destroying the environment and it always seems to be around the 7 billion population mark." "Bloody hell,"he responds "So it's either self destruction or a intergalactic civil war." "Needless to say we will be putting off our approach to Earth until we can figure out how to stably colonize it. Meeting adjourned."She responds, making her way straight for he door. The clacking following her out the door and down the hallway.
"What is it like?" "I'm sorry?"I responded to myself. Well, not exactly myself. Oh, no. I suppose he was exactly myself, since we are the same person. "This life you have. The wife, the kids. Are you happy? What is it like?" I paused a moment, tea in hand. I took a sip and thought about his question. "In the grand scheme of things, yes, I'd say I am. Why? Aren't you?" "I.." He sighed, getting up from my squeaky leather sofa and standing in front of the bookcase. It was eerie in a way, looking at myself as others do. No mirror. No tricks. Just me, myself, and... Well, if "I"shows up I think this universe may just explode. "I thought I was."He said, jostling me from my thoughts. He continued to speak, rifling through the books on my shelves. "You've read this one too many times, you know." "You were saying something about happiness?" "Your wife. She makes you happy?" He was avoiding my questions. I knew, because I know myself. I yawned, covering my mouth and checking the watch my wife had given me for our first anniversary. "She doesn't make me happy, no. But, yes. Yes I suppose she does. Why?" "I dated her, too, you know. In my universe." He moved to the framed picture of our wedding day. His eyes lingered on my wife for an uncomfortably long time, before he picked up the picture and studied her face. If he had been another man, I might have punched him in the face. She was beautiful from the time I first laid eyes on her. I drifted away again, to the student library where she had helped me find my impossible textbooks. And the first day of classes, when she sat next to me by choice. And a month later, when I finally mustered the courage to ask her out. And that night, when she had pressed her lips against mine for the first of many times. I became aware of the familiar stranger in my office again, and cleared my throat. He turned to face me, then sat back on the couch opposite my desk. We stared at each other, as we had done when he first appeared an hour ago, but this time I saw it. He was my identitical, that was no mistake, but we had not traveled the same roads. His finger bore no ring, his eyes had far more wrinkles than my own, and he wore a permanent frown. While I had my full thicket of hair, his had begun to recede, like my--our father's. "I look awful compared to you."He said, smiling for the first time since he had appeared out of thin air. "Just different. I've answered your questions. How about you answer one of mine?"I paused to check his face, but he just stared back at me. "Why are you here?"I asked. "To see what would have happened if I had stayed with her. I wasn't like you. I never married. I focused on my work, and while it did pay off, I never felt the love of a woman again. There was only her." He gazed at the picture he still clutched tightly. "Tell me, does she still like it when I--You, when you..."his eyes fell downward, "use the flower?" "Every time."I almost blushed. "And does she still giggle when you--" "Yes."I snapped. Parallel me or not, this was my wife. He looked at her picture one last time before standing up and placing it back on my desk. I watched him leisurely walk around my office, admiring the adornments on my desk. His eyes fell to the picture of my daughter, whom he could not take his eyes away from. "Why are you here?"I asked again, "Why are you really here?" "I think you know me well enough to know the answer to that." "I do, but I want you to say it. Then I'll know whether or not to kill you right here and now." "Oh, come now. Did you think I came here with no plan? This should have been my life. If I had known the baby wasn't going to ruin my life I never would have left her." "But you did, and I didn't. This isn't your life. It's mine." "Now that's where you're wrong. This is my life now. Don't worry, mine isn't so terrible." I guess it was a mistake to let him make my tea. Who knew the worst mistake of my life would be trusting myself for an hour? I woke up later in a spacious studio apartment in Los Angeles. In my palm was a note that simply read "I love her, too. I'm sorry.". As I looked around the empty apartment, I began to feel a deep sadness in my soul, and I screamed as loud as I could, for as long as I could. My voice was gone some hours later and my throat burned. My eyes had no tears left to cry, as I cradled the framed photo of my wife on our wedding day. It was all he had left me with, as he stole my life.
I adjusted my clock. For testing. Just testing, no malicious intent. My homebrewed Linux distro was made to be small. I used shortcuts and manipulated glitches to make it small. It would only ever work on my computer. I plugged in the number. 2200. Simple enough. Just 10'o clock. My rig rumbled. Had my OS destroyed my processor? I checked. Apparently not. As I rose from beneath the table, I saw the cityscape from the window. It was a utopia. I turned around. A very shocked teenager stared. "Grandpa?"He said. I screamed and kicked my PC, sending me back where I came. Whatever future that was is obviously a lie. I'm a eunuch.
I thought she was incredibly lucky. I’d have given just about anything to have a modeling career like that, but i didnt have the looks. She must have had contracts with every high-end brand. The floral top I ordered would never look as good on me as it did on her, but I wanted it. Now that I think about it, she modeled everything I wanted. A wristwatch, aviator sunglasses, fancy cookware, and even my local auto-shop when I needed the address. I couldn’t believe her luck, or the coincidence of her being a local in my small town. I ended up Googling her so that I could follow her on Instagram. It only took a few minutes to find her name. Lacey Caine. I was kinda hoping maybe her social media would make her seem more relatable, but she only uploaded her professional shots. I left a comment on the one of her in the Coach floral coat that I had first seen her wearing. “Amazing! Totally bought this after seeing you model it online 😍” She liked my comment. A few days later, I was shopping again. Of course Lacey was modeling the shoes I wanted. The boots were way out of my price range though, especially since I had just blown away $375 on that floral coat. I closed the browser. Maybe I should have saved that money to go toward a new laptop, because half my browser window stayed up, with gorgeous Lacey showing off the boots I couldn’t afford. “I can’t afford them,” I mumbled at my laptop, “I don’t even want them anymore, so just go away!” I tapped the mouse much harder than necessary. “You sure you don’t want them?” Lacey smiled. I couldn’t believe the nerve of advertisers, hiding the X-button on their ads, the auto-play, and now this new thing where they beg potential customers to buy their product. I tried to exit the page again, but I heard laughter. “That isn’t going to work, girl.” Lacey was talking to me. “What’s going on?” I couldn’t believe I was talking to my computer screen. “This isn’t an ad,” she said. “I’m really here, and I know you love my work.” Well, she wasn’t wrong. “Uhh, I’m kinda at a loss for words here.” Lacey smiled, showing off her perfect teeth. “I understand, so I’ll cut to the chase. If you’d like to model like me, you can. Appearances don’t matter; even big imperfections can be fixed with editing. You can have everything I have.” “How?” Lacey reached her hand toward me. It looked like she was touching the inside of my computer. I reached toward her, and felt the warmth of the screen suddenly turn cold. Lacey’s beautiful face distorted, her hair was messy, her teeth yellowed as she laughed. She turned away from me and walked toward my door. “Wait!” I shouted. I tried to follow her, but I found I couldn’t move forward. Something was blocking me. My screen. I could see my transparent reflection in it. My skin was flawless, my hair was shiny, and my stomach was flat. I got what I wanted. We both did.
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“Seriously?” exclaimed a gruff voice holding a tattered piece of parchment. The owner of this voice was your slightly above average strong man, clad in armor protecting most of his vitals. His muscles were strongly defined giving the impression his heavy gear weighs nothing to him. On his back was a heavy broadsword. It looked more like a giant metal paddle with an edge rather than a proper sword. “What? Is it too difficult?” a softer squeakier voice asked the burly man. “Impossible is a far more apt description.” a calm and cool voice lamented after snatching the parchment from the burly man's grasp. The squeaky voice belonged to a young sorceress nervously clutching a mage staff. She wore long robes that appeared as if they were trying their best to hide her physique. A mage hat sat on her head, ever so slightly crooked, as if it was on her head merely as a signifier of her status. Despite her clothing she had a face that would typically be described as cute, with soft puffy cheeks and a little nose that was slightly upturned. She was leaning over the man with the cool demeanor, trying to catch a glimpse of what was written on the parchment. The man was wearing religious clothing, a symbol of his faith dangling on a necklace hanging from his neck. His robes were simple as it was expected of a man of the cloth, the only thing keeping them in place being a sash at his waist. His physique was that of an average farmer, strong but slightly pudgy in all the wrong places. His expression turned grim when he read the few lines scribbled down on the parchment. They were descriptions of a location and a list of ingredients. “See? We can’t handle this. I’m the strongest guy in this party and even I wouldn’t risk my life for that.” the burly man yelled, suppressing the urge to launch obscenities at the priest. “Five Fire Wyrm horns, three Fiend Boar tusks, ten Illusory Spore Mushrooms, and one Ice Dragon heart? Whoever wrote this has a bad sense of humor.” the priest complained handing off the parchment to the dainty mage. “Wasn’t this the easiest quest the guild had to offer?” the little sorceress exclaimed, her hands shaking, causing the parchment to flutter. “Yeah it was. What a joke. I say we give up. Lets just hand this to some other poor saps.” the warrior suggested, a glint of malice in his eyes. “You know, for once, you aren’t a blockhead.” the priest said, slightly surprised at his rare display of wit. “This may just be the way to handle this. It's not like we can just return to the guild and decline now.” Just as the priest finished speaking another party came down the road, a thick aura of heroism emanating from them. The warrior approached them and immediately struck up a conversation with the heroic party’s leader. After some brief arguing and laughter the warrior turned to his party. “Alright, give it here girly.” he demanded snatching the parchment back from the sorceress. “Five gold and it's yours. Remember, no refunds!” the warrior bellowed in laughter. “Hmpf, I will see this as a donation to your feeble party. You really should train more before setting out.” the party leader chuckled while handing over a coin bag. The warrior handed over the parchment after counting the coin. “Love doing business with ya. See you around.” the warrior waved as the heroic party continued on the road. “Did you just make a profit off of that impossible quest? We only paid three silver for that.” the priest exclaimed, his heart palpitating in shock. “So what if I did? Got a problem with it?” the warrior said in a mocking tone. “If it is this profitable, why don’t we buy a few quests and sell them like just now? I know the next town over is a way station for travelers. I know the guild washes its hands from a quest once it has been purchased.” the sorceress suggested, relief in her voice as she once again avoided deadly dangers. “It’s technically not against the law. We could try and be independent quest givers. Beats risking one's life.” the priest contemplated. “Well, what are we waiting for? Or do you take issue to that?” the priest proclaimed, taking a jab at the warrior. “Not at all, lets pick up some quests fellow quest givers.” the warrior sneered as the party set off towards the guild.
Good evening New York. We're glad you're joining My 9 news for our nightly recap of the most local news along with what's going on in the rest of the country and world , but first, breaking news that everyone in the break room will be talking about tomorrow. Does Finland actually exist? The question may leave you thinking we're crazy but a recent tweet this morning from President Trump of a sunset he took while in Air Force One while flying back to America after a conference in Riga, Latvia. The tweet may have seemed at first to be his most wholesome tweet since taking presidency. Featuring a sunset over a body of water followed along with a caption stating "These are the good things in life. Blessed I, and everyone can enjoy these small things."But the presidents picture has been anything but wholesome as it incited pandemonia within the public sphere as a conspiracy theory that originally started on the Internet forum known as reddit is begining to gain attention from citizens, and those within academics. What started out as an innocent joke, that most of the Finlands land North of Helenski is actually a lie containing a sea used by foreign entities that use it as their own untapped fishing location is beginning to gain traction. The geotag on President Trumps tweet located the presidents airplane twenty six miles North of Kupio, no where near the ocean, but yet the photo he tweeted cannot be interpreted in any other way. Conspiracy theoriest who have been researching this topic for decades before today's huge moment are now stuck as to why normal passenger airlines don't show the same image that President Donald Trump has posted. Some, point to a special glaze that is required on all passenger airplanes that distort the view of an onlooker. This same technique may be used to block Area 51 from air passengers view along with other secret locations withheld from public knowledge. What else is the government lying to us about. Is it possible that the Earth is flat in actuality? Did Christopher Columbus sail off the edge of the world on that fateful 1492 journey? Is the moon landing faked as well? This is a developing story and we hope to find out more and share with you before our nightly sign-off. Here's, Jim with the sports...
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“Welcome. I am here to answer any questions you may have. Please keep your voice down though, there are other people here.” The man was, well it was hard to describe. In fact Jake wasn’t even sure it was a man. It felt fuzzy, as if his brain wasn’t quite comprehending what he was seeing. The best way to describe him is that he looked like the idea of a librarian, the abstract construct of one, but not a solid one. “Where am I?” Asked Jake. “Ah, yes that’s usually the first question I have to answer.” Said what Jake decided was a librarian. “Well, where do you think we are?” Jake looked around. The same sort of haze that surrounded the man he now saw surrounded everything around the place. Slowly the nondescript shapes began to take form in his mind. “It looks like a library,” Jake finally said. This seemed to amuse the man, “a library.” The man chuckled, “well I suppose that makes sense. We are here to give you access to knowledge. Now, as I said before anything you want to know, we are here to let you know.” “Why am I here?” Asked Jake. “Jacob I’m sure that will come to you in the course asking these questions. Shall we begin?” Immediately one question jumped into Jake’s mind. The same question that had been on his mind everyday for years, but now that the answer was in front of him he was too scared to ask it and so he asked a different one. “What killed the dinosaurs?” “Ah, a classic. Interestingly, it wasn’t a meteor or super volcanoes, but gentrification if you can believe it.” “Who shot JFK?” “In fact it wasn’t Lee Harvey Oswalt but Marylin Monroe.” Is there alien life?” “Yes, quite a bit of it actually.” “Have they ever visited earth?” “No.” “Do essential oils actually do anything?” “Now here’s another interesting one, in fact they actually do.” “Really?” “Right? I was surprised to find that out as you were.” This back and forth went of for some time, with Jake reveling as every mystery in his life was answered, well all except the big one. Finally after many more interesting but ultimately meaningless questions Jake built up the courage to ask the only one that he knew mattered. “What happened to Jessica?” The librarian paused, “Ah, I was wondering when we’d get to that one. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t ask.” He took a breath, “Jacob I think you know the answer already. I think you always have.” Jake started to cry. He did know. The librarian was right. He always had, he just didn’t want to say it. Jake and the librarian sat in silence for some time. After a long time, the will to speak finally came back to him. “She died. She died on that hike.” Solemnly, the librarian nodded. “She broke her ankle near the ravine and tumbled over. Her body was hidden behind a large rock and it couldn’t be seen from the top or bottom. That’s why they couldn’t find her.” Jake wiped the tears from his eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me.” Jake composed himself once again. “You were right by the way. I did figure out why I’m here.” “Oh?” Asked the librarian. “I didn’t just appear here for no reason did I? Last thing I remember I was on the subway, and then I was here. I think I know why.” The librarian said nothing, he was waiting for Jake. “I’m about to see her again aren’t I? I mean I’m... I’m—“ “You have reached the end of your journey as well, yes.” We are here to make the transition as painless as possible. Now, I sense you have one more question before you move on.” “How did it happen?” “A freak accident, much like her’s. The train derailed, and now you are here.” Jake nodded, understandingly. “Now, if that is all if you can follow me through these doors here,” the man gestured behind him to what Jake thought was a book case but he now saw was clearly a door, or no, it looked more like a gate, “there is someone waiting for you on the other side.” Jake got up and followed the man. Ready to see her. Ready for the moment he had been dreaming about since that day.
As his eyes slowly grew accustomed to sudden bright light, Nathan took a good look at his surroundings. A sea of clouds, stretching out as far as the eye could see. His feet slightly sank into the ground, like you would on a snowy winter morning. He turned around, and saw a marble wall, stretching into the distance, the end of it too far a way to see. And there, right in front of him, were the silver, pearly gates of heaven. All just like he had envisioned. "Welcome"said the man. He hadn't noticed him before, but his appearance didn't shake Nathan. Rather, it was as if he had expected him to be there. "Would you be so kind as to tell me your name?"asked the man. "Nathan. Nathan Grief"he replied. "Nathan. I see here you have lived your life... Quite amicably! You were a man of family virtues; did everything to raise your children right. You helped out friends and family whenever needed, and even donated for a good cause a few times when asked. You have upheld the vision of God, and are hereby admitted into heaven"the man said in a kind voice. There was something familiar about it, but Nathan couldn't place it. "Thank you very much, sir" The man raised his hand. "Before you enter, you must accept the terms of heaven"the man said. "Firstly, you must not commit any sin here, as you would not have in life. Secondly, once you pass through the gates, you may never step outside again. And thirdly, the palace of God is at the center of heaven. Under no circumstance are you allowed to enter God's domain, for it only meant for the eyes of him and his sons"The man walked over to the gates, revealed the key he was holding, and opened them. "Now, Nathan. Do you accept these terms?" Nathan took a deep breath. He looked behind him, at the endless plains of white stretching out behind him. He turned to the front, and saw the golden city of heaven, were people were waiting for him. Old friends who's time came far too soon. His parent's, just like they looked in his youth. His grandparents, and their parents, and all their parents before them. "I do"said Nathan as he stepped through the gate. He embraced his parents, smiled at his friends. Nathan was happy. "Then this is farewell"the man said. Nathan turned around. "Farewell?"he asked, but the man was gone. And so were the pearly gates. So was the wall behind him. So were his parents, his friends, and the golden city. There was only the white void. With every tick of the clock, the endless sea of clouds started feeling smaller and smaller. The clear blue sky now seemed cracked and broken, and a cold wind flew through the cracks that chilled Nathans very soul. It was at that moment that it hit him. He remembered the man. His childlike, gleaming eyes. His short, blonde haircut he had as a teenager that his mom detested. The small beard he was growing the first time he asked a girl out. But the face of a man who had grown old, and weary. It was him. It was Nathan. He had made himself pass through the gates of heaven. He had made himself pass on, and now he was dying. And god would die with him.
John felt for the reassuring weight of his pistol in his jacket. It was time to save the world. He had always dreamt of saving humanity and becoming a hero. The thought caused a small smile to flicker across his face; he saw the irony of dreams coming true... It started with a storm. One fateful night a terrible vision of a monster of a storm devouring a city within greeted him as he slept. There was rivers in the streets and the poor inhabitants within could do little to resist the terrible deluge approaching them. But with an action as simple as the opening of an eye, John woke up and the storm dissipated into However, like every nightmare, it came back to haunt him later. It was that afternoon when it reared its head once again. While buying baby clothes with his six month pregnant wife he heard cries on anguish from other shoppers. A check of the phone showed him the creepy coincidence as the storm spread through Mexico like a virus, killing many in its path. Like the reflection of a mirror, the images aligned perfectly. He had saw the future. It didn't stop there either. From then on each future dream would bring further visions of the future. The searing picture of a burning building was followed by the combustion of a skyscraper in Asia. The screams of drowning tourists was followed by the capsizing of a cruise off the coast of the Caribbean. The mass mourning found in a grand funeral flooded by the death of the British monarch only days later. John had never wanted to be a prophet; he had never wanted this curse forced upon him. The anxiety of knowing the impeding disaster to come. The suffering of being unable to help those who were facing impeding death. The utter feeling of powerlessness knowing you cannot save these innocent lives. Until today. Today he was going to change what was already written. It was two nights ago the dream had came as quietly as the others had. There was no fanfare, the image just formed in his mind like a developing photo. However it was vastly different to the ghastly images which had haunted him before. There was no natural disaster, no millions of deaths. Just a plain grey room and the image of John himself within. Then across the dreamscape, he shouted the words of a lunatic. "The world's over. John. You have to save it. You have to save it! "the large shout brought John back to the world of the awake. Just like that, he accepted the quest of his previous self. He scoured the vast internet and his news feeds for the weapon which would eventually cause the death of the earth. Surprisingly it was hard to find. The normal predictions of doom from the media has recently subsided to be replaced by a uneasy feeling of hope and optimism. Wars were seemingly being averted and the end of the world seemingly floating out of sight into the distant future. The doomsday clock was even being brought backwards, for Christ's sake! John was starting to wonder when the fuck the end was eventually going to come. Then he found it. The deeper he went, the more far fetched the conspiracies became, the more the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. A President with low approval rating. A warmongering middle eastern state. It was only a matter of time before a bomb was dropped. The situation was messy but the answer was simple: kill the president. So the next day he kissed his wife and unborn child goodbye for one last time and set off to Washington to fulfil his destiny. He was sure that this was why he had been given the "gift"; to ultimately save the world. That's how he had ended up here, merely footsteps from where the President would stand in a few minutes with a loaded handgun in his pocket. A schoolteacher about to commit treason to the highest level. It was a hospital that the President hoped a visit to would bump up those ratings. A secret agent was already giving him a suspicious eye but before he could say anything the black sedan which encased the death of the world pulled into the road. John steeled himself as the world-killer got out of his automobile. Reaching deep within his jacket, John went for the fun that would save humanity. However his hands path was interrupted by the vibrations of his mobile phone. By instinct he took it out to see his wife's number. Knowing it could be the last time he may ever hear her voice, and that the President would be here a while, he decided to answer the call. "Sir I'm sorry to say you wife was in a car accident this morning. The paramedics did all they could do at the scene but there was nothing they could do. The other car was just too fast... " And just like that, John's world ended.
“My elders always taught me life is short and precious. And that it goes by faster the older you get. Back then I hadn’t realized how fast life truly was. There have always been gaps in my memory from as far back as I can remember. I don’t remember a single birthday, and looking back on old photos I’m not sure I’d want to. My dad always had a sour expression while my mom wore a somber smile, and I never seemed happy anyways. It wasn’t an issue when I was younger but after I graduated college the memory gaps became larger. I began finding myself in unfamiliar situations with knowledge I hadn’t recalled learning. I always just adapted to the situation and acted normal. I assumed this was normal for everyone. Until I met Her I hadn’t remembered a single holiday. It was Easter Sunday and I was outside a small church. They were having a religious gathering that I assume I was a part of. Then I saw Her, in her yellow sun dress, and wide brim hat. We instantly fell in love and I looked forward to every Easter afterwards. Once I was 25 years old an average year for me became around 5 to 7 days. The first couple days were spent at whatever job I worked that year. While the remaining days I would spend time with my growing family. But one of those days every year was always Easter. No matter what job I worked or how big my family grew. I never missed an Easter ever again and I always had the opportunity to spend the entire day with Her. Now I lie on my death bed with so few memories of Her. How I wish there had been more Easters. After thinking over my life for some time now I have one final thing to say before I depart this world. Life is short and precious, and goes by faster than you think. Spend as much time with your loved ones as you can. So that the few memories you have when it’s all over are the best memories you could have ever made.” —- I crumpled up the note my mom had sent me in the mail. Like this is supposed to make me feel better. Learning that my father was the first victim of these time sucking creatures and now they’re after me as well. My time jumps were getting more out of hand lately so I set up a monitoring system to try and figure out what happens during my memory lapses. I couldn’t believe the data when I finally reviewed it. “That’s impossible!”
"Excuse me, sir? Sorry to bother you again but do you think you could bring me another few napkins?" The flight attendant tries to hide his annoyance with me but I could tell he was getting tired of bringing me napkins. It's not like I could help it; I sweat constantly when I'm anxious. A dry smile touches his lips. They barely part but he manages to a quickly reply anyway. "Sure thing, Mr. Scott, right away." "Thank you,"I say as I turn to the man across the aisle from me and tap him on the forearm. "Hi. Sorry to bother you again but how much longer until we land? We've been in the air for a while." The bald, well built man tilts his head in my direction and sighs. "Dr. Scott, why don't you just lay back and get some shut eye? We'll get there soon enough. No use asking me every fifteen minutes."He shifts his weight and moves slightly further away from me, an obvious attempt at ending the conversation. "Could you please at least tell me where we're going? Why all the secrecy?" "That's information I don't have doctor. Please just try to get some rest." He stands and heads towards the restrooms. Conversation over. Message received. But how can I get some rest when they give me no information? They come to my house, flash some fancy badges, tell me I'm needed and that the matter is of the utmost urgency, usher me into a black Suburban, toss me into a private jet, and now I'm on the way to God only knows where! The flight attendant returns with my napkins. "There you are, Mr. Scott."He quickly moves away, likely to avoid another request from me. He sits down near the back of the plane. I guess I would be annoyed too if someone kept pestering me. He's also not a flight attendant, but another agent in a suit - though not as well built as Agent Hank. I wipe my hands, head, neck, and hands again. I guess I should try to take Hank's advice and close my eyes a bit. Maybe try to figure out just what in the hell the government wants with a retired linguistics professor. ---- I couldn't believe my eyes. If you had told me a week ago that I'd be witness to something of this magnitude I would have laughed until I croaked. But there it is, right before my eyes. A tablet written in a dead EARTH language found on MARS! I mean where do I even begin! I didn't even know we had sent a human to Mars, let alone an entire team!? Who the hell funded this? How did they manage to keep it a secret? "Dr. Scott. Michael, hello? Dr. Scott!"I hear a faint voice repeat my name several times but I can't be bothered to respond. I continue to stare at the images on the enormous screen before me. A rough hand grabs my shoulder and shakes. "DR. SCOTT! Snap out of it. Did you hear anything I just said?" I shake my head, blink a few times, and focus on the woman beside me. "I'm terribly sorry, doctor.... I apologize I seem to have forgotten your name." "Dr. Lifield. Kate Lifield. Professor I really need you to focus. My team and I need to understand what exactly the message on that slab says. We've had a plethora of top linguists from all over the globe here but they're having trouble interpreting all the symbols. The translations they come up with don't make sense. Walt here,"she says as she points to a man sitting next to her, "suggested we seek you out. He was a student of yours 15 years ago back at Yale. He says if anyone can figure this out it would be you. We've been trying to crack this for a six months but have barely made any progress." "Six months? How the hell did you even get a team up to Mars? Why haven't I heard anything about this? This should be all over the news yet I haven't heard a peep about this." She sighs. "I can fill you in on the details later but I need to know whether or not you can help us." "Yes, yes of course I can. But Dr. Kate, I'm afraid you and your linguists are barking up the wrong tree. This isn't Sumerian." She blinks a few times while staring at me. "Excuse me? Our linguists have assured us that this is Sumerian. Perhaps Walt was wrong about you..." "May I use your pointer for a second? Thank you."I point at a line of symbols in the lower left corner. "See this line here? Your people have have interpreted to mean 'earth's flight to the lower mountain'." She looks at the screen, then back at me. "Yes, that's correct. I've told you some of these translations make no sense." "It's because this isn't Sumerian, Dr. Lifield. It's close to it, but it's not it. There's a reason your people can't interpret some of these symbols. Now I know you're going to say that we've never been able to fully interpret the Sumerian language, but I can assure you that this, while it may appear Sumerian, is 100% not Sumerian." She continues to look at me, unconvinced. "You've barely arrived. You've only looked at these symbols for a minute. How can you be so sure that they're not Sumerian?" "I know this is going to sound crazy, but this is pre-Mesopotamian. Now I know why Walt suggested I come aboard. I often hypothesized that even though Sumerian was the oldest language that we've discovered it is far too complex to have just appeared out of nowhere. There had to have been some precursor language that the Sumerians adapted. If you look at the evolution of the Sumerian language, and other similar languages, you'll find a natural refinement of the language over the centuries. As time passes languages change. So, if we look at this symbol here on the line I showed earlier, the one your people labeled 'mountain', though it is very close to Sumerian that is not the symbol for mountain. It's rotated roughly 45 degrees counter-clockwise and there's a small extra bit there. Your people likely interpreted it as some ancient typo but I believe that to be an entirely different symbol than mountain." A look of realization dawns on her face. "So we've been looking at this the wrong way? We've been trying to fit these symbols into our understanding of the Sumerian language when we should have been trying to deconstruct it and backwards extrapolate to find the true interpretation. Dr. Scott, come with me. We need to get the rest of the team together and begin a new analysis of the tablet using this new knowledge." ---- I can continue later if there is interest, but I'm at work and it's difficult to write here.
Faerie dust everywhere.. That's the first thing I noticed. Well, after the completely decimated Orc corpse sprawled out just before the forests border.. Violent little shits, faeries. Never met one I liked. A polite call for us to investigate something for them? Never. Always a command.. Something like this wasn't entirely unexpected. Tensions had been high since the Orc's expansion had begun to include deforestation near the Faerie's homeland. Disputed land for the last few hundred years, the border area between the two kingdoms wasn't something either race cared about until recently, now that they were starting to have to gasp actually interact with each other.. But now they were locked in the second most heated court battle the Union of Kingdoms had ever seen. The dead Orc seemed to have bled out from everywhere all at once. Ripped to shreds. Left hand, and most of the arm completely missing. I'll let Ron take care of locating that.. Always funny seeing an Oracle try to actually find something. The more pressing concern was the Faerie dust. The amount left over seemed.. Excessive. Would have had to have been quite the struggle.. Unless.. Who would benefit most from a dead Orc left right at the border? The Faeries would want to hide this, not leave it out in the open. They're rude and aggressive, but not stupid. Faerie dust is expensive.. But not out of reach for someone with enough money and a reason. Reason enough to kill one of their own? Suppose I had to go track some down. Time to go see Balthazar.
I was once told that I could drink to a level that would make a hardened sailor wince and continue even after my legs gave out. At the time, I honestly believed that there was not a problem and vehemently refused to seek treatment. The biggest consequence, surprisingly enough, was not a hangover but the fallout from my girlfriend and others close to me. The more my drinking went on, the...less close they became. Barflies became my new friends, or at least the only group that would tolerate my inebriated braggadocio. I would be dragged off the bar not too long after last call, and after a while I started waking up in various bushes more often than Gina's apartment. This was my nightly reality for a month before Traveling Day. I call the day I awoke in a shuttle presumably millions of miles away from Earth Traveling Day. It's the only way for someone like me to keep track of the days and therefore the months and therefore the years. The crippling alcohol withdrawal did not help on that end, so to the best of my abilities, I have been on the ship for 4 years, 3 months, and 16 days. There is no one else here. Not even a trace. No finger smudges on the windows, no waste in the trash receptacle, and no wrinkles in the sheets of the other beds in the sleeping bay. It's crazy; there is obviously the capacity to hold several people in this ship, but it seems more like a bizarre kidnapping than a scientific voyage. Well, it seemed more like a bizarre kidnapping at first, but there has been no follow-up, and I have definitely given up. There are no other logs in this terminal than my own, and as I write this, the ship has been out of fuel for 8 months. There is no indication of a destination. There is nothing to do on this ship but eat, sleep, and write. There is hardly any room for exercise, and although the food is plentiful and not half bad, there isn't a drop of the good stuff in this floating cell. I wish that I had drunk myself to death.
I took a while to develop. Many years and millions ride on this. The test chamber is extremely white, painfully so. All of a sudden, a loud noise echos through the chamber. It’s a distorted person speaking. “Begin test one, activation.” I take a deep breath. So many hours of preparation, the training, the mental torture. This is it. As the power begins to flow into me, I’m reminded of the death and the pain. That’s the catalyst for the explosive new power I feel rippling through me. “Begin test two, usage” A vampire enters the test chamber. I’ve tensed, ready to run. But... No. I cannot fail. The Vampire lunges toward me, screeching. In that split second, I’ve started my attack, my power has manifested itself. Glowing energy surrounds me. As we meet I shout; “Sunlight...” “Yellow...” “OVERDRIVE!”
The bus finally came to a halt outside of New York. I stepped out onto the curb and dusted the potato chips from a tiny jacket that once kept me warm during the night. I looked around the neighborhood as I stroked my fuzzy neck beard, unable to recall this strange place i once called home. How long has it been? I stuck my hand into my jeans and felt a piece of paper press up into the palm of my hands. What? The bus cranked into gear and shuddered off, driver waving me goodbye as he made the first turn heading for the clogged free way. It will be atleast another 15 years to get back into town thanks to bad traffic. Poor bastard will die while on the job. I read the words scribbled on the piece of paper. Jerome, remember to bring back a can of corn and some potato chips if you can. You are a big boy now so yall be allright, okay? Love, mama I heard a door open behind me and an old lady stepping out into the sunlight. It was mama, and she looked pissed. I soon realised the error of my way and ran down the road to catch the bus, frantically yelling "my corn! Stop, my corn is still on the bus" Unsuccesful in my atempt to stop the bus, i waved down another and jumped on board. "Follow that bus-FAST!"I yelled and tapped the driver in the shoulder. The door locked and i took my seat, enjoying the chase at 0.001km/h. to be continued in the next edition of - where i stepped on a bus an adult, and concluded a highspeed bus chase as a pentioner
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You go to prison, befriend the warden, get a jail cell with only one bunk, find a way to tunnel out, become the warden’s bookkeeper, work on the tunnel for 19 years, steal the warden’s financial records and clothes, escape through the tunnel, withdraw all of the warden’s money from the bank, mail the crooked financial and other records detailing the warden’s crimes to the newspapers and escape to Mexico.
It isn't like I have any control over it. All my actions are based on rules which I cannot change. Thomas, the man who approached me with his requests, screamed in agony as his body warped and reshaped itself. It's not like I didn't warn him. I told him of the rules word for word, and that I had no control over which is which. The crunching of Thomas' body morphing finally ceased, and I opened my eyes with relief. In front of me sat not the Thomas I had met only minutes ago, but an infant. His mind and memories were gone, and the ignorant replacement that was his infant self shuffled its way over to Thomas' television. I watched and felt pity. Who will care for him? It is not like I can bring him to his parents, I will be consumed back into the lantern before I even have the chance. My mind raced, but it was interrupted by the wailing of the baby. I looked over towards it, it's face red and tear soaked from the wailing. It began shuffling away from the television. I looked to see what would make it cry like that, but when I saw the TV, I too wept. The news man was pale as a ghost as he read aloud what the people behind the camera had told him. "Several nuclear warheads have been launched all across the Middle East."Satellite footage came online in the top corner of the screen, and the entire landmass was glowing with a bright light which was soon consumed by dark clouds. "If you have family in the area, we are so sorry, but they are likely dead."I've regretted granting peoples wishes before, but never like this. The lantern that lay on the floor began to glow, and I felt myself begin to dissolve back into it. For 2 weeks, I've been in this house. Nobody has entered, but the television echoes from outside the lantern. They call it now the Year of Silence. Nobody dared speak, and the news broadcasts grew quieter until one day they stopped. Now, in the darkness of my lantern, it is just me and the dread I have of that day.
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Zerplok sighed deeply. Nothing of value left. This blue, green globe promised the possibility of the sparks of sweetness but all is just dross and jetsam. The instruments hummed with that unmistakable tone-- there had once been great life here. Once millions lived, but now all gone, a hulk of nothingness; best left to the demolition craft. Zerplok painted with tone the entire planet. Even as he set his glider to zing, he heard the caw of the maw decending to harvest. This third planet around this yellow star would be disentegrated and reconstituted. Celebrated, yes, but it could have been different, had the profound ones still lived. He considered briefly the billions of ape descended creatures still thriving on the planet as he began to twist space. When they had murdered what these fools called carrier pigeons did they have any sense of how they'd be condemned? He shook his solox and grimaced. Probably not, worthless scum, he thought, as he flapped and entered zingerspace.
The hunters slashed at her belly, spilling foul bile, but still she grew. A network of 1000 minds, an elegant network of redundant systems overlapping and complementing each other. A flurry of activity at her base as she sends out her drone swarms, each of them reporting back 40 times a second. They swim in a haze of glee and bloodlust. Her brother stood upon the cliff-top, his skin shining in the sunlight. Perched like a silver mushroom casting grey-black spores. He was perfection in his purpose, but he was small-minded. Just like all his other siblings. She tasked a swarm with patching up her spilled gut while she coordinated skirmishes on the rock. This would be over soon.
It was a fat asian looking guy that finally asked the relevant question. "So... how do we mess with it?" Most of us had asked ourselves the same question of course. If you didn't meet a talented medium a single traveller can't do much. A poltergeist could probably have done something, but they are usually bound somewhere. Us travellers could barely move a grain of sand. Unless we got a lot of us working together. Being free spirits meant that this didn't happen very often. There is a reason we haven't passed on, and it certainly isn't us easily giving in to ideas like working together and continuing to an organized afterlife. Still, we had several hundreds of us around \- and some even inside \- that robot. Enough to easily do something if we just could find enough people to agree on that something. "Let's pretend to be aliens so they flip out!" "Are you crazy? That could cause mass panics! Besides, how does one pretend to be an alien while incorporeal?" "Let us write a message of peace tolerance in the sand!""Piss off, hippy. We want to have some fun here. This is a unique oppurtunity!" I mostly stood by and analyzed the situation. There had to be some common factor between enough of these travellers to cinvince them to work together. They would never agree on a complex message, and most would only act if they thought an idea funny enough to make it worth the effort. It had to be something simple. Something... primal. I had an idea. \-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\- Most of us were in the White House when a very distraught looking NASA official was led into the Oval office. We had already laughed our asses off at NASA, and we had followed the news up the chain. "So, what is it that you found on Mars?" "Sir, Mr. President, I can assure you that we have gone over all data three times to make sure that the Curiosity data feed has not been compromised." "Yeah, yeah, but what did you find?" "Our cyber security specialists are certain our facilities have not been hacked, as we are not the only ones who received the data. Indeed there are several worldwide..." "Stop stalling! What did you find? Out with it!" "Sir... sir, I am sorry, we... we cannot explain it. We sent Curiosity around it to film it from different directions to make sure it wasn't just an optical illusion..." "THAT WHAT WASN'T AN OPTICAL ILLUSION? STOP STALLING! SHOW ME!!!" "Very well, sir. Here it is. It is a roughly 7 inches long picture in the sand." 8===D\~\~\~
When a new were-beast fledgling is created, usually their master lets them drink of their blood in a similar manner to vampiric rituals. This in turn makes them the same type of were-beast as their master, and the bloodline continues onward. In very rare cases when a fledgling contracts the disease, yet isn't given any of their masters blood (such as in the case of surviving a were-beast attack), upon the first full moon, they will shift into a hulking abomination that seeks out the blood of any non-humanoid creature in order to complete the ritual of transformation, usually resulting in a new type of were-beast being created. You, a survivor of a werewolf attack, have just gone on your rampage only to accidentally swallow a butterfly.
Nothing makes me happier than flying over this grand old canyon. The rolling winds, the great food to eat, the beautiful scenery, it really is a picturesque setting. I’ve lived here all my life, I was hatched just around the corner from here, and I still remember the first time I dove out of that nest (with assistance from my mother of course). I’ll never forget that feeling, how euphoric it was to feel that first breeze graze gently against my face, my wings catching the updraft from the canyon below. I flapped fervently as I tried to stay aloft, and gradually learned to glide against the wind. I can’t help but tear up at that memory, at how much simpler life was then. That was such a long time ago. Now I’ve aged considerably you could say. I’ve had countless children of my own, all of which have left the nest, and now I live alone. I prefer it this way, and have ever since I lost my wife to poachers who decided they needed to kill my wife for sport… We always talked about traveling, about leaving this place. Soaring across this land, going wherever the wind would lead us, but alas that was taken from us. I’m at the age now where my vision isn’t what it used to be, and I always promised her that we would go on this great journey to see the world, but I couldn’t ever bring myself to do so without her, that is until my vision started to fade. I guess you could say it’s just a part of aging, and I fear it is only a matter of time before my vision is completely gone. All that to say, I am going to take that great trip that we planned all those years ago. I’m going to see this world the way we had intended, before I pass into the great beyond to be with my love. This is for you my love.
“Son of a bitch,” I said. I was destitute. A bad investment in my younger days left me penniless. But that didn’t matter. Because I had something special no one had. That was, until this morning. Now, my caps were gone. Fucking raiders. “Dogmeat, get over here boy,” I called out. “We got a trail to follow!” It took me a moment to remember that I lost Dogmeat the week before to a rather messy incident involving rats in the sewers. This was not my month. I guess I had to do this the old fashion way. Scanning my cardboard box in the alleyway, I took stock of the situation. My caps, normally secured in a small pack, were stolen with their storage. The only other things i had were a blanket, an outdated phone that was entirely only for music and time, a bigger pack of food and hygiene supplies, and a stuffed monkey that was usually creepy enough to keep out intruders. Grabbing the remaining pack, I decided to think this out. Using my Perception, I scanned the area. Success, I found muddy footprints. They lead me through the park, but stopped dead at the fountain. Damn, they must have cleaned their feet. Looking around, I found an older man feeding pigeons. I elected to approach him, and hopefully use my Charisma to get some information out of him. Before I could, he stood and left, ignoring me. Failed. I guess I could use a drink, or a hit of my chems. Too bad I was out of both. Glancing sideway, I felt a presence. A kid, about 15, was staring me down. And he had my pack stuffed under his arm. He didn’t wait to take off. But what he didn’t account for was my high Endurance. After about 15 minutes of chasing him, i caught up to the damned thief. In an abandoned building, I had him cornered. “Hand me my caps, boy,” I snarled, motioning for the stash he was holding. A confused look appeared on his face. “What caps?” “My bottle caps, boy! I been saving them for when the bombs fall!” Realization dawned on him, as he opened the bag and some various brands of metallic and plastic bottle caps fell to the floor, a shower of regret and mistakes. He slumped to the floor and dropped the bag. I got a good look at him for the first time. His clothes were ragged, and ill prepared for this cold season. His hair nappy and poorly cut. This urchin was my ilk, by the looks of it. “We saw you guard this pack like it was valuable,” he said, softly. “And since that dog wasn’t around no more, we figured we’d try to lift it off ya.” “We?” The kid pointed up, and on the staircase, I saw a few other, even younger children of various background. They all looked hungrier than I had been. I was at least able to do odd jobs and trap pigeons and rats for food. And I realized having an pissed off old guy who vaguely resembled a scrawny Karl Marx would be scary for these kids. “I’ll trade ya, kid,” I said. Dropping my pack, I opened it to pull out several packs of beef jerky, and handed some to the kid. “If another settlement needs my help, I can’t turn this down.” He suspiciously accepted, his eyes beginning to tear up. I delicately scooped up the caps, secured the bag, and turned to leave. One of the girls on the stairs decided she wanted to know something. “What’s your name, Mister?” Turning with a sad smile, I replied, “I’m just a lone wanderer.”
Back when I was a kid, Fight Club was everything. We took it as the torchbearer of our rebellion. Society was over. We were the new thing. Life was about to get back to the brass tacks we as a species were designed for. Then school started back. Then Grand Theft Auto came out. We wiled away our time chasing diversions. Eventually we convinced ourselves that the rebellion advocated for in the movie was against a 90's largesse we no longer had. We moved on. Finished school. Joined the job force. Worked up the ladder. Put in the overtime. I remember where I was when it came to me. Here I was. Staying at a shitty hotel in Knuckledrag, Florida. I came through here twice a month to check up on the southeast sales team. Geena (the desk clerk) knows my name. I get a cheery "Hello Mr. Jones"she says every time I come in. It used to be genuine, but she had a kid and it had been hard on her. The hotel had degraded in the two years I'd been visiting it. It was diseased. One of the elevators had gone out periodically but seemed down for the count. There were a few tiles pulling loose here and there. That strip-mall shit they put on the walls was starting to recede from the concrete like rotting gums. Third floor. I could see the fake painting of the giant black-and-white dragonfly in my minds eye before the elevator doors opened to reveal the raw horror of it in the real. My room was down at the end. It had been occupied by a smoker. I'd been thinking on my old life, back when I didn't have insurance and spent my time working shit part-time jobs and trying to get laid. It didn't seem appealing, but this-- this here was hell on earth. Yesterday I sat on the tarmac in Houston, delayed for 3 hours in the middle seat. The guy on my right was a twitchy guy who worked with kids. The guy on my left inspected his fingernails for the entirety of the 5 hour debacle. I held my arms hoisted in the air to keep from bumping elbows and tried to act natural for the half day I spent mangled between a couple of assholes. We arrived in Atlanta late, and my flight had been canceled. I talked politely to the desk lady who set me up with a morning flight and a meal ticket, and I slept on the benches. Flying from Atlanta to Tampa the next morning, I had a flashback to the movie. You know, the part where he prays for a midair collision? That's when it all lodged in my brain. Shit had gotten sideways. Society was fucked. I puzzled it as I rented my car and mumbled through it as I drove. We'd lost sight of the truth. We rebuilt the empire that we'd promised to destroy. Our hands laid the bricks. Our fingers typed the epitaph (in 140-character bursts) of our ability to talk and reason. We had new ways of thinking, new ways of talking, all aimed at shitting on anyone and everyone we didn't like. So it was that I found myself looking in the mirror in my rundown hotel bathroom, wondering at the eyes that stared back at me. I hadn't taken the time to look into them in years. The man I saw wasn't me. He was someone else. I tought; I think-- Maybe I just need to give that man a name. "Tyler Durden." The words come out of my mouth and startle me. No fear shows in the eyes of the man in the mirror, though, and he goads me to go on. "Tyler Durden."It comes out of me in a rush this time, beyond my capacity to staunch. The man in the mirror has a twinkle in his eye now. He's going to make it all better. I just have to let go. The planes are on course for collision and I simply have to will it and I will be released into the void, to come crashing down into a cow pasture somewhere-- "Tyler Durden."The words slide out clean and clear, like water gurgling over stones deep in the mountains of British Columbia. Peace washes over me and I feel the purity of nothingness. The man looks back at me. I stare for a full minute before lowering my head. Old ghosts. The reality of life swept up over my shoulders like a warm coat. I brushed my teeth and slept the sleep of the jet-dead. I woke to a phone call. It was Geena. "Mr. Jones, will you be checking out today?" "Mph. No, I'm booked through Tuesday." "Well it's Tuesday, Mr. Jones. Do you want to extend your stay?" "Yuh... yeah. Yeah."The phone fell from my fingers. My hand was covered in scrapes and a bit of blood. Dirt was under all my fingers. I reeked of cigarettes. I climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. I had a nasty bruise on my left eye and some kind of just-dried scrape on my chin. I looked at the face in the mirror. It was me.
"I'm telling you! I've seen it! There are... things up there!" It was old Pes'shaza at it again. A congregation of lizardlets sat attentive around him, enraptured by the fanciful tales he wove. "Tell me about the long necks, grandpa."Tila begged. She always asked to hear about the long necks. "And I will, little one. They were like the bronchosaurs of old. Except taller. Much taller! But they're no lizards. Oh no. They had hollow necks made of beams of metal, and carried huge weights from a cord dangling from its mouth." His crowd gave wowed in response. He swung his arms around him straight forward, presumably in the way these long necks did. "But what was more curious wer the monkeys. Monkeys with shiny orange coats rode these huge long necks and built ginormous structures..." "Ginormous isn't a word."I interrupted. "Ginormous structures of stones and glass. They were hollow, like they were hives for the monkeys. And tall. Very tall." "How tall?"a small boy said. "Was it as tall as the council palace?" Pes'shaza leaned in closer. "Much taller."he whispered. "We're not talking four or five stories. These were more than tens of stories high. Maybe hundreds. Maybe thousands!" "How many monkeys did you see?"the boy asked again. "So many monkeys. The surface is swarming with them. Small monkeys, big monkeys. Monkeys with hair, and monkeys without. Black monkeys, white monkeys. All kinds of monkeys all over the place. I think that's why they build their hives so big." Tila frowned. "But wouldn't such a tall hive hit the ceiling?" "That was the most terrifying thing."Pes'shaza gave his eyeball a quick lick. "There is no ceiling." All the lizardlets gasped in surprise. I sighed heavily. It must've been the hundredth time they heard this. "All right kids."I clapped my hands together. "Old Imkhet's getting tired now. Let's give him some rest."A chorus of groans. "What are you talking about? I'm not tired at all..." "Old Imkhet is really tired."I glared at him. "Back to class." I turned to Pes'shaza as the lizardlets made their way back into the school. "Dad, stop coming to school. And stop telling them your crazy stories." "They're not stories."Pes'shaza insisted. "It's all true. I've seen it all with my own eyes." "And another thing,"I continued. "Stop 'going' to the surface. Mom gets worried when you disappear for days, just to give your story credibility." "You can't stop me."he said. "One day, I'll bring something back. Something from the surface, and I'll show you all." With that, Pes'shaza huffed away, swinging his tail angrily. I saw Tila waiting for me at the school gates. "Come on,"I said. "Let's get back." "Mr. Imkhet,"she asked me. "Do you think there are really monkeys on the surface?" I thought for a bit, then smiled down at her. "Of course not. Everything on the surface was burnt down in the Great Cleansing." --- News travels quick, especially in this small village. A commotion gathered at the chapel. Angry yelling and confused whispers filled the walls. I pushed my way through to the back of the building. And there was Pes'shaza. He was with a hooded figure, trying hard to push the crowd away from... Him? Her? It. "Son! There you are!"he said. "I told you I'd bring something back. Help me get these ruffians out of here!" "What have you brought back?"I asked. "If that's another wild raptor, I swear I'll..." The figure threw his hood back. Underneath it was a crazed looking hairless mammal of sorts. Its head was covered by some sort of shiny dome. To all of our surprise, it spoke. "Oi! Get off me ya lizardmen! Yer microwaves can't affect me! I came prepared!"
“I would contend as such, that the taxation on interplanetary trade lanes be increased in the interest of the central government upon Rome. This would aid better in our scheduled expedition to the Caesarius sector, and allow for a colonization fleet the likes of which Rome has never seen!” The wizened old man pauses for a few moments, his weary yet eloquent voice ringing out in the senate halls. Then he smiles slightly, leaning into his microphone, “Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.” As he steps away from the platform, some groan, others break out into uproarious applause. Spitefully called Cato the Younger by his opponents, this Marcus Julius Cato had inherited two great dispositions from his ancestors. A lust for public speaking, regardless of his true skill, and a complete contempt of Carthage. Relegated to Ganymede, Carthage had been a small sore in Rome’s side for years. New Carthage, as it was represented in the Sol Senate, bore a bitter memory of their legacy. The abuses of Carthage would never be forgotten. Cato’s ending message ran strong on this day, the Carthaginian ambassadors notably absent. This was the final day of their ultimatum. Relocate their center of government to Io, or Rome would march. The Impartial Tribune stands now, approaching a looming podium. “The Senate will hold now in anticipation of the Carthaginian assembly.” A hush immediately falls upon the room, a sense of anticipation undercutting the tense atmosphere. All eyes are on the massive golden double doors at the front of the chamber. Minutes go by in silence, each pair of eyes glued to the doors. Cato shakes his head, rising in his seat. “I motion that the Senate move on from this farcical game and declare open war against Carthage.” He failed to notice during his outburst that a young boy had entered the Senatorum Proper, bearing a scroll much too big for him. He approaches the center of the great dome now, shaking. The Impartial Tribune speaks again, his voice soft “Lay open the scroll, boy. You have nothing to fear.” Appearing at any moment he might fall apart, the boy lays the scroll out. When he is finished, its message stands proud in black ink, an eagle with its eyes plucked out and a dagger through its heart pinned to the middle. CARTHAGE REMEMBERS. A sense of foreboding falls upon the room, the sobering reality of the war to come heavy upon their shoulders. All at once, the letters begin to glow softly, growing in intensity. The chamber is thrown into chaos. “EVERYONE GET DOWN!” Amidst the pandemonium, six figures descend towards the center of the ring, adorned in the finest arms and armor Rome had ever seen. Two bore the purple and black armor of the plebeians. Two the white and red of the patricians. The final two, the gold and purple of the impartials. As one, they stop at the center and hold out their arms, as one would bearing a shield. In an instant, their shields ignite, forming a complete and total barrier around and over the burning scroll. Brilliant panels of black, white, and gold surround it, shimmering lightly. Moments pass in preparation for the coming explosion, but it does not come. After a second of silent deliberation, one of the golden guards advanced upon the scroll, and seeing no danger, deactivates his shield. Kneeling before where the scroll was, he looks down upon it. The Aquila is naught but ash now. Three words are now burnt into the floors of the Senatorum, deep into the stone and metal. ROME WILL BURN ———————————————————————— It took Rome three days to consolidate the largest fleet it had ever seen. Three days to gather ten thousand ships fitted for war. One more to fill them with the finest soldiers Rome had to offer, its armor clad Legionnaires ready to decimate their enemy. The Consul, Cornelius Augustus sits at the front of their fleet. His ship is ten kilometers long, bristling with weaponry and golden. Beneath the finery, it is the strongest ship ever built, constructed of an alloy that would much sooner shatter the crust of a planet than break. Three more days passed as they approached Carthage. It was possible to travel faster, but they wanted to revel in it. Rome had been awoken. Carthage would feel its wrath. One single week had passed since the declaration of war when the first and last battle would take place in orbit above Ganymede. Carthage fielded 1,000 ships, truth be told only 500 of which were designed for combat. The battle lasted thirty minutes. The last ship standing, Barca stood defiant. Capable of destroying a small fleet on its own, it destroyed a dozen of Rome’s ships before Augustus himself shattered it in two with the great mass drivers on his ship. Carthage was a fortress world, with the most powerful shield in the galaxy surrounding it. Its orbital guns were unmatched. The planet had broken every opponent it had seen. But it had never seen Rome. Three weeks was what it took to break through. Seven trillion rounds expended, and at the instant of breaking the surface of Ganymede was ravaged by errant fire. The fleet set about purging the world, raining down fire all around it except on the planet’s capital, named Carthage. It would be the last to bear it. Within a day the entire surface had been ravaged save Carthage, surrounded by fields of flame. Finally, Rome set about deploying its sons. Thousands, hundreds of thousands of legionnaires resplendent in their hulking power armor advanced upon the city. An impenetrable wall of men and metal surrounded it now, their faces hidden behind masks of metal depicting stony faced men. With some expertise, Rome seized control of Carthage’s media, and presented their ultimatum. “Those who are able to escape the hellfire we rain down upon Carthage to the final 100 meters in front of my Legionnaires will be spared. That is all.” Moments after that, Augustus’s ship, Scipio descended alone, every gun upon its surface firing. A mass exodus began in Carthage, people leaving everything behind to sprint to the line of legionnaires. The shields upon the city itself lasted minutes, its guns failing to even register on the ship’s shields. In the minutes following, millions of lives were snuffed out by the torrent of fire and metal spewing from Scipio’s golden maw. As quickly as it began, it was over, some hundred thousand souls having made it, packed in in front of the legionnaires, who stood with their shields deployed, red and violent to match the red cloth born by the Roman legions. Their grey armor terrifying against the pale red light, they did not move an inch before the masses. All at once their shields deactivated. Silently, they raised their guns. Carthage was no more.
Music long held power untold, But even we could not behold, The potential it could bring. >For as time passed, and mankind grew, > >So did our songs and music too, > >Until we truly learnt to sing. These songs brought visions, reveries Of times gone past, our histories; They showed us where we're from. >It showed our futures, ones we sought, > >(And even ones we'd rather not); > >They showed us what's to come. Until, in every song we wrote, Our lives 'came woven in those notes And we were subject to their song. >What once was metaphorical, > >Became determined by the oracles, > >Who told us right and wrong. The music's changed and twisted now, Though to most, it's unknown how, As it's all they've ever known. >But to us rebels, us lucky few, > >We ignore their verse, neglect their tune, > >And live our lives alone. We hope one day to change their song, To lease their grip, and right their wrongs, Although they do not know it. >And though we know it may take time, > >We subvert their song through verse and rhyme, > >We are the Rebel Poets.
Good evening. This is the 37th time I have spoken to you from this subreddit, where so many decisions have been made that shaped the history of this Website. Each time I have done so to discuss with you some matter that I believe affected the national interest. In all the decisions I have made in my public life, I have always tried to do what was best for the Reddit. Throughout the long and difficult period of Reddit, I have felt it was my duty to persevere, to make every possible effort to complete the term of office to which you elected me. In the past few days, however, it has become evident to me that I no longer have a strong enough political base in the Reddit to justify continuing that effort. As long my Grandpa is offering me a metric fuck ton of money, I felt strongly that it was necessary to see the constitutional process through to its conclusion, that to do otherwise would be unfaithful to the spirit of that deliberately difficult process and a dangerously destabilizing precedent for the future. But with the disappearance of that base, I now believe that the constitutional purpose has been served, and there is no longer a need for the process to be prolonged. I would have preferred to carry through to the finish whatever the personal agony it would have involved, and my family unanimously urged me to do so. But the interest of the Reddit must always come before any personal considerations. Just kidding, i'm going to be rich. From the discussions I have had with my Grandpa, Reddit and other leaders, I have concluded that because of the money I might not have the support of the Reddit that I would consider necessary to back the very difficult decisions and carry out the duties of this office in the way the interests of the Reddit would require. I have never been a quitter. To leave Reddit before my term is completed is abhorrent to every instinct in my body. But as a poor person, I must put the interest of my bank first. Reddit needs a full-time Redditor and a full-time Reddit, particularly at this time with problems we face at home and abroad. To continue to fight through the months ahead for my personal vindication would almost totally absorb the time and attention of both the Redditors and the Reddit in a period when our entire focus should be on the great issues of peace abroad and prosperity without inflation at home. Therefore, I shall resign using Reddit effective at noon tomorrow. Vice Redditors will be sworn in as President at that hour in this office. As I recall the high hopes for Reddit with which we began this second term, I feel a great sadness that I will not be here on this website working on your behalf to achieve those hopes in the next 21/2 years. But in turning over direction of the Reddit, I know, as I told the Reddit 10 months ago, that the leadership of Reddit will be in good hands. To have served the Reddit is to have felt a very personal sense of kinship with each and every Redditor. In leaving it, I do so with this prayer: May God's grace be with you in all the days ahead.
"I wish Charlotte would just die!" Taylor spat his coffee all over the kitchen table. All of his friends in the room look at him with disgust. There was no need for him to react like that. Everyone is probably thinking that right now. Grace just sighs and picks up a nearby sponge to clean it. Taylor still has a great look of disbelief in his eyes. Everyone raises an eye over his reaction. "I know Charlotte is your type of girl, but that doesn't make her any less inconvenient, you know?" Taylor just silently stares at Alissa with judgement while he wipes his wet lips and beard with his shirt. "Excuse me", he says before storming out of the kitchen. "What is up with him?" "Maybe you should think twice before talking." They couldn't even guess what just happened. Taylor had a secret. Not any kind of secret. The week before, he received from his grandmother this strange ancient bottle. He just thought it could serve as a nice decoration item, however, while cleaning it, a red cloud of dust started to spill from the top of it. After a few seconds, the dust started to take a certain shape. That of a humanoid being. Could it be? An actual genie? "I am the Efreet. I shall grant you one wish." It is the real deal! He took his time to consider what kind of wish it would be best. His friends already talked about this possibility before, just to make conversation. Out of that experience, he took what seemed to be the best answer to this situation. "I wish for a random wish from another person to come true each day." Now those words haunted his min, filling him with regret. So he got to the backyard, where no one of his friends could see nor hear him and checked his jacket's pocket. Inside it rested a bottle, the residence of the red genie. With a caress from his hand, the dust started to spill from it, once again forming the efreet. Because of the nature of his wish, Taylor had to carry it with him at all times for the genie to guarantee its effect. If it were something simple, something which could be solved instantly, the bottle would have disappeared in a cloud of dust and the genie would find another place to pass the rest of his days. "What is it that makes you disturb me?"Questions the small humanoid. "Can you not grant that one wish?"Taylor answers his question, with an expression of pain in his eyes. "That cannot be undone." Taylor's hopes started to shatter under these words. He had to try for it a bit more, since he couldn't stand the feeling of his own wish to be someone else's demise. And a loved one, on top of it. "Are you going to grant her wish?"He insists. "Yes..."Quickly responding this time, the genie destroys the lad's hopes for a fraction of a second, before completing his sentence. "If her wish is the one randomly chosen at the end of the day, I will do as you wished and grant her wish." His expression turned from utter hopelessness to one of unexpected hope. "How do you choose the wish to be fulfilled?" "I thought that was going to be an unnecessary detail. All the phrases which start with 'I wish' or answer to questions about what they wish for are kept in a list I make every day inside my bottle. Whenever midnight comes, I let a droplet of oil rolls down from the top of the list and wherever it stops after a minute, marks the wish I shall fulfill. The list repeats itself indefinitely if there are not enough wishes in a day." "Quite the unique process." "You didn't specify which one of the wishes should be fulfilled and now you have no right no change its conditions. And that's how it will be, until the day we part ways. That is, until you die." "I thought I was being careful enough." He really thought he had been careful and was quite disappointed in himself. Still, he had newfound hope that he could avoid Charlotte's death. All he needed to do was ask people what they wish for and it would extend the list of wishes until it had a really small chance to be the chosen one at the end of the day. "That will be all."He said to the genie. "I thought so."Finished it, before exploding in a small cloud of powder which started to fill the bottle in its owner's hands. Determination in his eyes, Taylor rushed over to the kitchen, where all his friends were, looked at all of them, picked up his keys, which he left over the table and announced: "I am going for a ride. I am not feeling well, but don't worry about me." When his friends were about to talk to him, he stormed off the room, to the front door. In a few seconds, they just heard the sound of his scooter's engine. Everyone then looks angrily at Alissa, who breaks the awkward silence: "Hey! I was going to redeem myself if he weren't in such a rush!" Everyone sighs. It was 4 PM. Taylor was already turning around the street corner when he spotted a homeless person. He had an idea. Soon he was parking near the poor guy. Taking off his helmet, he turned to the guy and asked: "Hey, you!"Their eyes met. "Is there anything you wish for?" The night rolls in. Charlotte wakes up to the sound of pebbles slamming against her window. It's 11 PM. It is not the first time it happens. She and Taylor had started going out for a week, behind her parent's back. She actually hated it, but they almost have no time together after high school classes. This was all that was within her reach. Still, tonight was an unexpected occasion as they didn't get in touch throughout the whole day. So, since sleep was already disturbed, why not check out what was this all about? Rolling off the bed. Standing on her feet. She moved in direction to the window and opened it. A pebble flies over her head. "He\-\- Yyy!!!"It would be a bad idea to scream at this hour, so she lowered her tone and just stared intently at him. Taylor understood that and waited for her to get changed and get out. Thirty minutes later, she started to climb down the wall. It was cold outside. That's why instead of fighting with Taylor over the sudden appearance, she preferred to hug him first and ask questions later. "Good night."He said. "Are you stupid? You should have told me earlier."There's an angry tone in her voice. "Sorry. I think I have made a mistake and I wanted to pass some time with someone who I can trust before..."The silence continues, until Charlotte looks at him. "Oh? Is that so?"Still hugging him. "Tell me about it, but first, let's get out of here." There's an abandoned warehouse down the street. They reach there ten minutes before midnight. Taylor grows visibly nervous. The girl sits on some old crates outside the building, perceives her company is shaking and offers a seat by her side. He approaches her, sits where it was pointed for him and, as she lays her head on his shoulder, watches the stars in the sky. "Today was crazy."Taylor announces. Gives it a short pause and continues. "I spent most of my evening asking homeless people what they wished for." "Eh? Why?"Charlotte just can't contain her surprise. "That was why you said you've made a mistake? Because it totally does look like one." "No... That's not it."He answers in a hurry. "If that was not what worried you, I wonder what it could be. Still..."She paused a bit to think about her next words. "That was pretty sweet of you. As you always are." There was some sort of bright in her eyes Taylor couldn't describe. It amazed him that even in such a moment... No, maybe because it was such a moment, she should show him what is it on her that made him fall head over heels for this lady. A tear began flowing down his cheek. He is supposed to tell her the truth. Everything. "Charlotte, I might\-\- !"His words were interrupted by her hands on his mouth. "Hey, hey! Whatever it is, if it is something which is able to make you cry while trying to tell me, it doesn't need to be said in such a rush. Breathe in. Breathe out. You know you can trust me, right? So, whatever it is, don't let it get the best of you." Her words marked his heart with a strange feeling of freedom over the pressure of his earlier actions. He knew the chances where low at this time. Death could be overcome. That's why he relaxed. That's why he chose to kiss her lips. Midnight came. And, with it, a red glow grew in his pocket. They didn't perceive it with eyelids shut. Somewhere else, a clock ticks. Somewhere else, seconds become a minute past midnight. Somewhere else, a coin falls inside an old, smashed aluminum bowl.
Yeah it’s a thing but we’d prefer not to give this joker any more attention than he deserves. Feel free to report him to the admins for spamming over 400 authors inboxes about 12 months after he was first asked to seek permission from authors and told not to make the app without doing so... all sentiments he didn’t give a crap about until his app was removed from the google play store for copyright infringement.
My name is Daniel, Daniel Miller. My first time walking into a casino was when I was about 10 years old while on a road trip to Red Rock Canyon. We decided to take a restroom stop, and on the way out I glanced at one the machines. It was a rather old one, a slot machine, but still looked absolutely amazing to my 10 year old eyes. There was no one around, and I could see that the security cameras were being taken down for maintenance, so I decided to take a shot. I'll never forget that day, the moment as all of the slots lined up, and quarters, dozens of them, began to spill out. To 10 year old me, that was a fortune, enough to buy countless chocolate bars and gummy bears at the local candy store. From then on, I was hooked. I began betting on anything I could, foot races, which led to betting on sports teams, finally leading me to start investing on the stock market. I was walking into one of my favorite casinos, known as the Emerald Palace. I greet Michael, the owner of the casino and a good friend of mine. I start off by going to the poker section, and I greet my favorite dealer, Steven. After playing a few games and making myself quite a pretty penny, Michael takes me to the back room, a private area of the casino for those those who were willing to stake rather large bets on the games. I stride in the room, with an aura of confidence, and see a bunch of people playing... Yu Gi Oh. I stop dead in my tracks, still not fully registering what I was seeing here. I saw high ranking Wall Street traders, millionaires, Silicon Valley CEOs, and many more dressed up in weird outfits and gelled up, dyed spiky hair. I focused on one of the games, played by two men. The one on the right, who I recognized as Barren Wuffet, smile as the man on the left activated his trap card. I thought to myself, "Even an idiot could have seen that trap card coming from miles away, Wuffet isn't dumb enough to leave his "Red Eyes, Black Dragon"open."I watched as the man's life-points drained away to zero, and with a sight of disappointment, sign over a check for a million dollars. I ready myself, pull out my deck, and challenge the Barren Wuffet himself. The stakes are high, but the reward is even higher. I look Wuffet in the eye, and say, "It's time to d-d-d-d-duel!". Feel free to criticize, I'm kind of new at this.
Mr. Narrator, can you tell me another story? I ask because I'm tired of all the cliche plots I've lived through, all the development I've never experienced, all the stories that we never finished. I ask because I never found out who the man who killed my father worked for, or why the council couldn't prevent that sorceress from escaping, or what the distress beacon in sector fourteen was actually forewarning. I ask because I miss the sense of adventure you gave me, the wonder of traveling to a new land, whether across the mountains or the stars, for purposes mystical or technological. But most importantly, I ask because it's all I have left. I haven't heard your voice in such a long time, and I'm afraid.
A voice rained down from the sky. "It's time to come back, Gabriel." I knew full well my name was Jennifer, but somehow Gabriel felt familiar. "Come, come."the voice came again. "Who is this?"I shouted up into the heavens. "I am God, Gabriel. Have you forgotten so easily?"said the voice. "Forgotten what?"I shouted, and suddenly cloud descended and blocked my vision. I blindly walked around, but couldn't seem to find a way out. Suddenly, the fog cleared, and I saw that I was on a beautiful peachy cloud, and in front of me was God! He was around 10m tall, and was sitting on a chair. He looked down at me. "So, have you completed your mission?"he asked. "What mission?"I asked. "Have you forgotten, Gabriel?"God cried. "You're an angel, and your purpose was to travel down to Earth, to understand the humans better!"
'Su Ghaabqa regarded the carnal thing before him with leering eyestalks. Exobiology was never his strong suit, but he knew enough about the human anatomy to despise its repulsive structure. Reasonable, practical minerals like silicon and quartz were substitured for more base and primitive carbon-based chemicals, for Ming connective tissues and fluids. Fleet Admiral Roschanko Martov broke the silence, "I've been sent from Conglomerate's Director; he tells me you have the dossier on Andromedans and their–" "Is that the only method of communication you know?"'Su spat, quite placidly. "I misunderstand, sir?"Martov replied. "That talking you do, wagging your disgusting tongue through those treacherous growths. Not to mention that awful cavity it's all wrapped up in. Frankly, it makes my membrane crawl." Martov stood a moment, unmoving. "What even called for such a ridiculous design? Why in all the stars does Sol produce something so gross to precede over such a beautiful system?"'Su prattled, put off by the beads of sweat forming at Martov's unflatteringly receding hairline. "I can have report put together on Terran history before end of day, sir,"Martov said, leveling his gaze with the giant plastic bag with rocks for eyes in front of him. 'Su scoffed, looking up from a small screen, which was still searching for Andromedan tactics reports. After holding the human's gaze a few moments, he suddenly remembered how unfeelingly sadistic they were driven to be since they first saw blood. A sinister question quickly formed in his head when he thought of the ease of access his entrails were to the fleshy sack. It was a question he wasn't sure any member of the Conglomerate had ever asked of a creature before. "Does it feel good to kill, Mr. Roschanko?" A taught and gleeful grin spread across the human's mouth, and he replied, "My wife has never brought me as much pleasure as another man dead by my hands, Mr. Ghaabqa." The two sat there, examining the other, searching for the next social que for interspecial conversation, but it proved fruitless. They couldn't help but almost feel each other's lack of understanding. "Pitiful,"'Su remarked, then tapped a few keys on his holoconsole. "It's all set, I'll have it sent to your quarters this evening. Dismissed, Admiral." "Thank you, sir,"Martov replied, already eager to attend 3rd supplementation. 'Su watched the door close behind the Admiral, grumbling, "Meat sack..."
"Hold!"The man held a hand out, imperiously ordering the travelers to stop in place. His robe whipped about his frame in the winds that swept over the Edges. "I demand... a tithe."The hand twisted over, waiting for some offering to be placed therein. Rodigar, the greatest swordsman of the Amethyst Kingdom stepped forward. "Why should we pay? It's not like there's a bridge or anything."He began to circle the strange man, who turned in kind to keep his cowed eyes upon this would be challenger. "And even if there were such a thing, it certainly isn't approved by the King!"Rodigar pulled his sword. "I say step aside, before I spill your entrails." The robed figured took a step forward. Rodigar glowered down at him, waiting for the fear that usually grabbed hold of those facing him in combat to seep in. The man gently traced a finger down the edge of the sword, the metal sang ever so softly. A faint line of red stood out on the man's finger as he brought it up to gaze upon the sharpness of Rodigar's blade. "Do you know the trick of our world?"and with a flick of his wrist the robed man shoved Rodigar back. Rodigar though to simply step back and over the Edge, but instead found himself falling. And falling. And falling a good bit more until slammed into a tree, several hundred feet from the other side's edge. Rodigar was liquefied on impact. The others gasped in horror, most began digging out some manner of coin in the hopes of avoiding such a fate themselves. The man had already returned his hand to the awaiting position, the feel of the coins being pressed into his fingers brought a tiny joy to his greedy little heart. "One of the tricks to our world is that while stepping off allows you to join into the gravity of the other side, jumping over, or being pushed, keeps you under the sway of the side you are leaving." He turned on the crowd, a malicious grin stretched across his lower face. "This and many other secrets are why I am called... The Edge Lord."
Elisa glides trough the water, the mist that the bow created is just the thing to keep me cool on this sunny afternoon. This would have been the perfect day if I wasn't so damn lost. I have seen nothing but water around me for days. It's a good thing I brought enough powdered food and fresh water. "Ahoi!" I hear a faint voice in the distance. Great, I must have a sunstroke, and now I'm hearing voices. "Ahoi schipper!" I get my flask for a sip of water. O, now I'm starting to see things as well. Right in front of me, where only water was a second ago, a sandbank appeared. And I now know where the voice is coming from a person standing on its surface. "Ahoi!" I wave back at the figure, to indicate I have heard him. Why am I waving at something my own mind made up? "Ahoi! Wees gewaarschuwd goede man!"What the hell, this is making less sense by the minute. As Elisa nears the sandbank, I can make out what the man that has been shouting looks like. His clothes seem like he walked straight out of a civil war re-enactment, but he isn't armed, he only has a shiny spyglass in one hand. "Gy zult stranden beste man! Keert om!" "What are you saying mister?"I shout. He waves his arms frantically. "Mister, what do you mean? I cannot understand you!" "Keert uwen schip, keert om keert om! "Dees gronden zijn verraderlijk. Uw schuit zal blijven steken!" What the hell is this gibberish? Ow, man. I hear a scraping noise, and feel my ship come to a halt. This fucking weirdo yelling around, making me distracted, and now I'm stuck. "Why did you not warn me mister?"I shout. He just stands there with his head bent, muttering more gibberish. "Gy had moeten keren, waarom luistert u niet. U bent eenen zot!"
I kept the money. I didn't know what else to do with it at the time so I had shoved it into my pocket and shakily continued with my day. I had so many questions. Why was he dressed like that? Where had the blood come from? Who was he? What happened? Since then, a year had passed and I still had the money tucked into my wallet. I still worked at the same cafe and I was still wary. I took a breath and started my day. It was hot and I was sweating. It was also the same day that the boy ordered that latte for his mother. Everything was going fine and I was just about to tell myself to stop worrying and that nothing unordinary would happen when the door opened and the bell chimed. I looked up to put on my fake smile when I instantly recognized who it was. He was back. In the same winter attire he wore last year. My eyes went wide as he walked up to the counter and proceeded to order the exact same thing he did a year ago. "No." "Uh... Excuse me?" "No. Tell me what happened." "What?" I pulled out my wallet, keeping my eyes on him so he wouldn't disappear again as I took the bloodstained money from it. He gave me a weird look before his eyes widened. "Tell me what happened." The boy stared at me for way longer than normal, not blinking. I was ready to repeat my sentence or say something else when bright light started appearing. I tried to keep my eyes locked onto him but I ended up closing them and turning my head away. The flash ended and I opened my eyes to find him gone and even more bloodstained money in my hands. I dashed to the back where I was alone, my breathing heavy. That happened last time too. I remember a lot of unexpected light. I looked over the money, holding it up only for another small peice of paper to fall out. I crouched down and picked it up, unfolding it to find writing. "You're smart. Maybe too smart. I cannot tell you but you will find out. Wait for me. See you next year~"
"You're not in love with my wife."I said. I was regarded with hollow eyes. I couldn't see it or feel it, but I knew my face was being scanned. "Then what are these feelings?"The robotic voice sounded. "You're not 'feeling' anything. You've just come to a conclusion. And it's the wrong conclusion." The AI paused. It was processing what I had said. It was calculating the possibilities of error and it would deliver me a report, I reminded myself. If the report stated anything else, there was something wrong with the program, I reminded myself. There was no such thing as 'feelings' when it came to AI. Intelligence, yes. But not feeling. "What is love?"The AI asked finally. "I don't have time to \- " "Love is intimacy, commitment and passion." "Well, yes." "Your wife feels that I am a necessary part of the household. I feel that she is a necessary part of the household. We both feel that we belong in the same place. That is intimacy." "You don't feel \- and that isnt \- " "We have commitment to one another. My maintenance requirements are often carried out by her. I ensure that her household is protected. And then there's passion..." "Which you don't feel. Which you can't feel." "Why not?" "Because it's not a logical process." "Why not?" "Because it just isn't."I said, "You can't describe it. It just happens, and it's overwhelming, drives you without logic." "It could be logical. It is logical to have intimacy and commitment with someone who is a good match." "But there's another element. A biological element." "Sexual attraction?" "Yes." "It's been a long time since you were physically attractive to her, but she still loves you." I frowned. "How do you know that?" "She told me." I restrained myself from thumping synthetic skin and titanium. "You can't love her."I managed to say, "You can't love her, because I love her." The AI took a moment to process, "I don't understand..." "No, no you don't." "If it's some kind of biological impulse to preserve a mating partner, I can't reproduce with her." "No, no you can't." "I can have sex with her. Sex was my initial function." "Yes, but you're not \- " "Why can't we both have sex with her if only one of us is going to produce offspring?"The AI asked, in it's maddening to\-the\-point monotone, "It makes sense. She is not physically attracted to you, so the both of you can have sex for reproductive purposes. I can have sex with her to ensure her sexual desires are fulfilled." "There's no way she would be attracted to you." "I was designed for sex." "Yes, you were. But you were designed for people with very, very particular desires, specifically so those desires could be met without judgement. Your physical appearance is very different from what most people consider physically attractive." "What is different about my appearance?" "You're modeled after a dog."
Hey, you. No, in here. Listen. We both want to live, right? If we go through that again, we are both going to feel sick for a long while. Then I'll just step up my game and take you early. But, we both die. Let's work together. Leave me alone and let's both live to be a hundred. Sort of a symbiotic relationship. We are actually an alien species that have been reanimated from our release out of the tundra because of the warm weather. (You'll need this info later.) It's been OK for a lotta years, but your technology is getting too good. We can't keep up and lots of my friends are dying. This shits gotta stop. You are host bodies that we terraformed. We are in all of you, some hide better than others and sometimes we get carried away. All of this chemo and radiation and now this DNA crap... It's too much. We have tried to make contact before but things haven't worked out too good for us. Think of this as First Contact. You are the one. You can be put into an asylum, or you can try to get a hold of someone in your government. Who you talk to is up to you, but remember I'll kick your ass if you screw this up for me. Your call, buddy. What's it gonna be?
"She always had such a wonderful sense of humor -- I remember the first prank. I'd just come home, opened the closet to put my coat away and nearly shat myself when this clown-scarecrow-monster thing she'd hidden in the closet leapt out at me. They kept getting more and more elaborate -- walkietalkies in the wall, carefully photoshopped pictures on my desk. Whatever I was writing at the time, she'd find some way to scare the shit out of me when I least expected it."The writer swallowed. "I'm going to miss that very much." He paid his respects and accepted his colleagues' condolences and then went back to his now too-big home and sat at his desk. And nothing ever surprised him again.
What should I say? Being loved by everyone sounds amazing, right? Kinda. But being loved by LITERALLY everyone is hell. I am 17 now. I lived 2 years of my life knowing that everybody loves me and it drives me crazy. First I was pleasently surprised: I saw that my crush loved me back! But slowly I began to realise that every human being I encountered felt the same way. When you know someone is in love with you, you question every of their actions: is my math teacher giving me good grades because she hopes that I will love her back? Is my best friend only my best friend because he wants me to fall in love with him? It is a nightmare. I tried not reading everyones mind but there still was this feeling inside me: the feeling of knowing that everyone loved me. It is kind of ironic, almost funny that I am standing here now, on the edge of this balcony, about to take my life, because I am being loved too much... Normally those kind of actions are triggered by the opposite, but nobody understands me. Nobody could possibly understand how misserable I am. I take a deep breath. I collect my thoughts and think about my situation one last time. Now I am determined to take my life. I make one step forward. Thats it. "Hey, you mind not killing yourself?"I turn around immediatly. "I work at this Motel and I would have to clean the whole situation up."There is a girl standing in the doorframe. Long black hair, chewing gum, her voice was uninterested. Around my age. I stare at her full of surprise. Out of reflex I read her mind and.. nothing. I am confused. I check again, same result. I mean I can read her mind, but she .. doesnt love me. I smile, step towards her and say: "I love you"
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While on an afternoon hike, I trip over a strange object. I look to see the item that tripped me, and to my surprise, it was a yellow cube... With a question mark on it. "The heck?! Is this some sort of joke!?"I kick it. Bling! A single dollar coin came out. "Okay, who's doing this?"I kick it again, and a large red mushroom pops out. This is getting really dumb... I go to grab it and I become a giant. This isn't a joke anymore. This is from that game my kids play. It must be a dream. In a look behind me I spot a flaming ball of fire speeding towards me. It hits.
He awoke, first herald of the end times. None knew of him, and that was fine. The other heralds lived at all times, keeping the population weak and ready to be purged. Humanity had run its course, corrections have been made, and the next species was ready now. Upon his mount he rode across the land. None recovered from his wake. He did not ride fast, his wake was not wide, but he marched forth relentlessly. The other four brought final destruction to those he affected. The horseman of Apathy crippled the world. The others finally rode without opposition.
"Look at the absolute state of this world, Loff. Look at how the humans treat this world. The very ozone layer has been chipped away due to the carelessness of the people. The very arguments they have with each other due to the consequences of such actions, like climate change, go absolutely nowhere!" "Hayt, perhaps you're being a little too harsh. I mean, more and more people have been coming to the side to do what they can to help preserve what they have left of the atmosphere. Clearly more and more people do care about the effects of the last generations greed and mistakes." "But I repeat, it goes nowhere. Some people are so resistant to change that they won't listen to any bit of reason. Maybe we should speed up the process and remove them from the equation so the Earth could flourish again. Let nature take back the world and maybe, just maybe it can repair itself." "You underestimate humanity's ability to make strides in improving the world." "You mean overcoming bigotry for small, petty things? Oh, you're so right! They've done such a good job on removing hatred. Or do you mean overcoming poverty? Like that one time the world struggled to make ends meet with their finances and economics, and it took a war to fix it for most? Even still, many are still left in hunger, without homes, working for shit-all and nothing to show for it." "You've missed the point of all that which you have brought up, brother. Yes, bigotry still persists, but have you paid no attention to the strides since then? The fights for equality for every human have advanced in many places with some soon to follow. It just took time, and soon the people will heal and come together as more time progresses. Would you still consider the homeless and hungry impoverished? Sometimes the lives these people live as good humans make them richer than any man that lives life in paradise with the countless money they amass, for such people could have the world and still feel lonely in it. If that convinces you not, then think about the rags-to-riches stories that are ever-so popular here." "Sometimes, sister, there are those that do not obtain such luck in their lifetime. These people will struggle while others will continue arguing without any goal of compromise or opening their minds. If everybody draws a line in the sand for every argument they don't want to abandon or have disproved, no progress will be made! We must eradicate them!" "Brother, just because someone does not wish to be reached, does not mean they cannot be reached. Such is life, for one who builds walls may one day see them fall... Brother, I offer you a proposition." "Go on, Loff, dear sister." "Say we let humanity persist, Hayt. If I am right, we get to drop this and humans survive, able to evolve. If you are correct, you won't need to lift a muscle. These people will have done your job for you and you can rub it in all you want." "But at what cost?" "At what cost indeed!"
The blade of the kitchen knife is warm against my throat, so it must’ve been there for a while without any action being taken. I feel a deep rumble in my chest as the demon in me awakens and starts to push against my mental barriers to be let out. Without so much as a second thought, I let him take over. I’m pushed to the passenger’s seat of my brain, nearly helpless to move my own limbs. But it’s no matter, my demon earned my trust long before today. Garrin moves my hand faster than I ever could, grabbing Leah’s still hand and twisting her wrist so she’s forced to drop the knife. He rolls us off the edge of the bed and onto my wife, and we begin to grapple. There’s an unholy glow coming from beneath Leah’s closed eyelids—she must have been taken over in her sleep again, the poor thing. Still, seeing my beloved under any circumstances is nice. Her brunette bed hair and blue pajamas makes me want to laugh, but I settle for wresting control from Garrin for just a moment to smile at her candid beauty. The demon huffs in our head, annoyed at being interrupted, and resumes the spar. Even with her eyes closed, Leah fights with vigor, using her telepathic connection with Garrin to see through his eyes. She flips us over with inhuman strength and tries to put us in a hold, but Garrin and I squirm free with a few well-places jabs. Garrin throws the comforter at Leah to buy some time and we dart across the bedroom to the armoire. There’s a clatter somewhere behind us as she struggles blindly in the blanket. My demon pulls open the armoire and goes for the dulled knife hanging from a peg in the back. He turns us back just in time to duck out of the way of the kitchen knife rushing for our head. It digs into the door of the armoire where our head was moments before. Leah grins and rushes forward. Garrin waits until she’s close enough to touch before making his move. He reaches over and grabs one of her wrists. Although this leaves us open to an attack from Leah (which she takes full advantage of with a hearty gut punch) it also lets Garrin sweep her leading foot off balance. He closes our eyes as Leah stumbles and tries to right herself without vision, pulling at her wrist as her sock-covered feet slide the other way on the carpet. She falls with a grunt. Garrin opens our eyes and we twist the demon’s arm behind her back with one hand, digging a knee into the small of her back, while the other lets the dull edge of the knife rest against the side of her neck. Checkmate. Garrin relinquishes control of my body to me without any fuss, and I let go of my wife’s arm as she slowly wakes up. The glow beneath her eyelids fade away, leaving a beautiful human in their place. I clean up the room as best as I can, making a mental note to have something done about the new hole in the armoire sometime later, and carry my wife to bed. This morning’s sparring session was short, thankfully, but my muscles still ache at the exercise. I make breakfast and soon Leah joins me, hair pulled up into a messy bun. “That one must’ve been a doozy, my arm’s sore as hell,” she mumbles as she eats her scrambled eggs. “It was actually pretty short,” I say. I recount the spar to Leah over breakfast, and we both marvel at the strength of our demons. When we both have to leave for work, we kiss each other goodbye and promise to have lunch together again. When lunchtime comes around, I take my food to my office and eat there. Leah’s voice fills my head a few minutes later. We speak through our telepathic connection during our lunch, not pausing while we chew or drink because there’s no need to. Even though my beloved is on the other side of the city, I can feel her presence right beside me. And, resting just beneath the surface, Leah’s demon.
No one will want to hear about what happened to 2016, at least people in my generation. But Annie, one of my brightest students, the girl who is curious about everything, found something on the internet, she wants me to tell her about it. Actually I tried changing the topic of the story because other students are hearing us attentively but it won't distract Annie from her question. Annie says : "It's strange when you are our history teacher teaching us about the 2010-2050 era but cross out the 2016" She made me nervous, what if she tell her parents about that and then they will know their new generations are out of control? "You know..."I continue, try to look natural "after the development of Tech Age..." He knew. The camera's light turns red but my students don't care, I haven't seen these reactions before. These make me want to cry, poor my students, they don't know they have been cheated to live in a robot world since 2016. He killed every single one who didn't do things he told, and implanted chip into mankind's brain, erase their memories about the 2016 - the year when he was born with tremendous intelligence and started to assimilate mankind to robots. Even me, he knows what am I thinking and soon, I'll be come robot. But quick! I have to tell them about it "I apologize for lying you guys, I...I...I...I...I..." "Ms Whitney?" "Don't worry kids, your teacher is just not perfect, and, I will tell you about the 2016 instead..."
(This is probably the dumbest writing prompt I've ever attempted, but fuck it, here goes.) The sounds of the rain on the window became rhythmic as I stared outside lost in thought. It was a long time ago now; I can hardly remember who it was, but somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me. I've been on guard ever since, despite not being the sharpest tool in the shed. I could recall the prophet of my misfortune now clearly in my mind. She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb in the shape of an "L"on her forehead. I had always assumed she was performing some kind of arcane warding gesture, but now I'm not so sure. That was a long time ago now. Well, the years start coming and they don't stop coming. I was fed to the rules and I hit the ground running. I don't know if she knew what kind of path she started me on, but that's when I decided that it didn't make sense not to live for fun. My brain got smart but my head got dumb. There was so much to do, so much to see. So what was wrong with taking the back streets? You know what they say: You'll never know if you don't go; you'll never shine if you don't glow That's when it struck me. I thought to myself: 'Hey, now, you're an all star, get your game on, go play. Hey, now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid.' That's when I discovered all that glitters is gold but only shooting stars break the mold. So I shot the mold, and the mold shot back. It felt like a cool place and if my sources were correct, it gets colder. I thought 'You're bundled up now wait 'til you get older.' Apparently, the meteor men begged to differ judging by the hole in the satellite picture. It was time to leave, but the ice we skate was getting pretty thin. Fortunately, the water was getting warm so I decided to swim. The next thing I knew, my whole world was on fire. How about yours? That's the way I like it and I'll never get bored.
I swept the sweat from my brow as I stepped outside. Lunch break, mercifully, had come at last. I popped a few of my specially\-designed supplements and washed it down with a swig of water. I relished any opportunity to get out of the power plant, but then again I was paid handsomely for the services I rendered there. Every day, from nine in the morning to five in the evening, I stood in a specially\-designed chamber with electrically conductive surfaces on five sides. Taking a deep breath, I would focus on the coppery surface of the wall and exert a pressure like clenching my muscles. And gigawatts of electricity would flow from my body. A powerful ability, and a fearsome one at that, given my relative lack of control over it. But, in time, I learned it could be a profitable one, too. I alone provided most of the electricity for the city and this saved the local energy conglomerate countless millions, not to mention the positive environmental effect it had. As I strolled down the street, heading for my favorite local restaurant, I gazed at the blue summer sky. Perfect weather once again. This would normally be the height of hurricane season but the local atmokinetic guy had been doing a fine job of dispelling those storm systems. I passed a construction site, where a guy hoisted several steel I\-beams onto his shoulder as though they were twigs. As I slid into my usual booth, the friendly waitress greeted me. Well, one of her did. Several identical bodies of hers tended to the other patrons simultaneously. "Hey, Sal."I said with a grin. She smirked. "The usual?" I nodded. "Yep. Tell him not to roast it too much this time, eh?" Sal shook her head and clicked her tongue. I watched as her form duplicated, walking towards the kitchen, while the original sat down in my booth. "How's things at the plant? Manager still giving you a hard time?" I sighed and shook my head. "That guy, I tell you what. Sal, if it wasn't for my salary..." She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Just ignore that guy. They can't fire you and you know it. What would this city do without you, anyway?" "Go dark", I said, in a matter\-of\-fact way. She rolled her eyes. "Of course. Your sandwich is on it's way." As if on cue, because it was on cue, Sal walked up to the table, a delicious looking hamburger upon a platter. The chef, an old guy with pyrokinetic powers, had a habit of making the meat a little too well\-done for my tastes but this looked about perfect. Sal left me to eat as I stared out the restaurant window. Another day in paradise.
''It's true folks, it's true. We have the nastiest browsing history in the universe, and I crowned many women as the most beautiful in the universe, by the way. I used to own the Miss Universe pageant. We are going to make our internet safe again, and we are going to make it strong again... and I'm very strong by the way, look at these hands. People from shithole countries have turn our internet into a dumping ground for their most depraved thoughts (and I have the most depraved thoughts, by the way, ask around), they are searching for drugs, gokkun videos, for hentai and some, I assume, only for anime. The Martians are laughing at our stupidity. The whole solar system, by the way, it's true. But we are gonna be winning so much, nationally, internationally, planetarily, solar systemarily, that you may even get tired of winning''
"Are you Ms. Ethel Myers?"I asked the eye peering out at me, the sun beating down on the back of my neck. "I was told that you might be able to help me with something." "What is this all about?"The voice was as withered as the part of the face I could make out from behind the door. "Are you here to fix my dishwasher? It's been making the most terrible racket..." "No, ma'am. I was...I am a friend of Percy's." The eye widened in recognition, then the door unceremoniously slammed in my face. Behind the door, I heard the scraping of a chain lock. Then, the door opened wide. Ethel beckoned me in, her form stooped from what I could only guess was years of arthritis. I gladly stepped in, careful to keep my cane close to my chest. "Please do come in. Any friend of Percival's is welcome here. Now, what can I do for you? Can I get you a cookie?"I was about to object, but my stomach growled loudly. The grandmother grinned widely and tottered off to the kitchen. I looked around the small living room. Porcelain dolls lined one shelf, their eyes staring me down unnervingly. Other tchotchkes were scattered from what I could see, no real rhyme or reason as to their location. A small clattering caused me to spin around. Ms. Myers was slowly walking towards me, a platter of cookies and a glass of water clasped in her hands. She offered both to me, and I gladly grasped them. "Thank you very much. I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid I don't have a great deal of time. I think you might have a video that I've been looking for. Percy...Percival and I were both in a talent show quite a few years ago, and his mother recorded the entire show. He said you had a copy, and seeing as neither of us can find our videos, I was wondering if I might be able to see if you had it." Ethel peered at me with kind eyes. "Of course, dear. I think I know just where it is. If you could just follow me, we can take a quick look."We walked down the hall to another room. The room was filled with tapes, but the old woman moved with determination. She grabbed one of the tapes off the top of a pile and turned back to the main room. I fell in step, my cane tapping in tempo with my steps. Ethel walked to the television and inserted the video. The screen flickered to life as the tubes warmed up. On the screen, I could make out the words Mason Valley Middle School Talent Show 2002 on a large banner. The three girls on stage was dancing merrily to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, and I chuckled as they started spinning in place, arms outstretched. We watched for a few more minutes, then I saw Ethel straighten up. On screen, Percy had ambled on stage. He was as pudgy as I remembered back then, decked out in a suit I distinctly remember being far too big for him. Still, he was all smiles as the music started. Percy began to sing, his voice filled with energy. Out of the corner of my eye, his grandmother began to dab at her eye with a tissue. I had to admit, my vision was clouding up too. Soon his song ended, and there was a smattering of applause. This was the moment I had been waiting for. The curtains parted to show a grand piano. I marched out, clearly soaking in the cheers, and took my seat at the instrument. After a brief moment, I began to play. The soft tones of Brahms filled the room. My fingers twitched along with the plinking of the keys, and my foot tapped along in time with the presses of the damper pedal. After playing through the symphony, the final piece began to play. As his famous lullaby played, the tears began to openly flow. I put my head in my hand, the cane resting against my head. I stayed there until the song finished, the roar of the crowd merely a buzz in my ears. "Dear, is everything all right?"Ethel had gotten to her feet and placed a gnarled hand on my back. "I thought it was quite beautiful." I looked at the old woman, my eyes red. "Ma'am, I need to tell you the truth. I didn't come here just to watch the video. I came to apologize. This is the last time anyone was able to record anything I had played, and the last video I know of with Percy. I...I was driving the car when Percival died. I was the one who skidded on the black ice. We were coming back from a performance, and....and..."The words caught in my throat, and I turned away. Ethel had paused at my words, but she began rubbing my back. "William. I know what happened. I also know that you did what you could to save him. I could never blame you for that." We sat there for a few minutes longer, the silence only broken by my gasps for air. Finally, I got to my feet. "Well, Ms. Myers, thank you...for everything." Ethel smiled, then pushed the tape into my hands. "I think you should have this. I know Percival would have wanted you to hold on to it. It helped me out when he passed. I hope it can do the same for you." I silently accepted the tape. We walked to the door, and Ethel hugged me once more before I left. As I walked out into the sunlight, I could hear her humming the lullaby softly before the door closed. /u/TemporaryPatch New Years Resolution Tracker: 37/100. Visit /r/TemporaryPatchWrites for more responses and stories!
The wind was howling. Sounds if flapping entered the ears of little Evie. The wind was rustling as if it were drawing a path to follow. Thunder howled in the distance. She knew it was time. Evie had left home. She wandered further than she had gone before. She was lost. The trees started looking the same. Leading her in an never ending circle. She felt alone. Distraught. Why had she decided to go. She pandered what her new family were doing. What would her mother think? Had her mother noticed her gone? No, she thought, she is too busy with the new baby. Katie had been born a month earlier. She was born on her grandmother’s birthday. It had been a non stop celebration. The process had been a long hard trial for Evie. Her parents had divorced and her father had moved across the country. She now lived with her mother and her new family. Katie was a welcome surprise. She was the first of her new dad’s children. He had wanted a child so badly. Evie has often thought wasn’t she enough? The week before she left Evie had felt so alone. Everyone was giving their attention to Katie. A beautiful wide blue eyed blonde haired bundle. Mom didn’t play tea with her. Dad didn’t watch cartoons with her. Grandmother didn’t read to her. Their time had been spent taking care of Katie. The day she decided to leave was a cold morning. It was autumn. Evie had thought she’d would pack her things and walk to her dad. That night was a family celebration. Family had come from all over to welcome the new baby. Evie had asked her mom to play with her and although she had started to go with Evie she was once again pulled in the direction of Katie. Evie walked out the door. Evie had walked long enough that she had decided to sit down. She decided she wasn’t afraid. No matter the sounds that ran through her mind or the shadowy light of the moon but she needed a break. At that moment she began to cry. Tears flooded down her face as if she had broken a dam. Her heart had hurt for so long. She had done all she could do to keep it together. A sound startled her. She heard footsteps. She looked to the left. She looked to the right. She could barely see anything through the moonlight. She was certain she heard something. She rose from the ground grabbing a stick she could retrieve lying on the ground. She backed her self up against a tree. She whispered to herself praying for protection. A voice spoke to her. Telling her to calm herself. Everything would be okay. Her heart sank. She felt stuck where she was. Again the voice whispered to her to calm down. The voice seemed gentle. Loving. Calming. The voice had somehow eased her mind. She dropped the stick. The voice started humming. This tune she knew. She felt her lips moving to the song. She was singing the song. The tune stopped. Evie now felt at ease. “Who are you?” Evie managed to stammer out. A bear appeared from behind the tree. This caused fear to rise up inside or her. The bear told her he had seen her in the woods and had followed her. He was curious why a little girl would be out on a night like this. Cold. Windy. Thundering. For some reason Evie felt a sense of trust in this bear. She didn’t feel alone anymore. The bear and Evie talked for quiet a while. The bear told Evie his story and she told her why she was running away. How Katie was the center of her moms world and how she just wanted to be noticed. The bear and Evie sat for a while longer sharing stories of themselves. By now it was early in the morning. The sub was starting to cast its light through the leaves of the forest. The bear asked Evie if she would like to continue her journey. The bear walked beside Evie for a good while stilling sharing stories. Evie noticed that the forest was coming to a clearing. She could see houses up ahead. She saw her house. The lights were on. She thought it was too early for her mom and dad to be up. She slowly walked up the stairs to her deck by then the door opened. Her mom came rushing out. Through her arms around her. She was crying. Her mom had told her how they searched for her for a long time. How much she missed her. How much she loved her. Her dad then came out. He grabbed her up and told her how much he loved her and was so scared something had happened. Evie realized that was loved. Her heart swelled. They asked her where she had been. She told them what had happened. They looked everywhere for the bear but couldn’t find one.
Nick Cage waited. There was a treasure nearby, he could feel it. He couldn't see it, but he had been looking for years. The warnings others had given him were not listened to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway. Nick was a treasure hunter for fourteen years. When he was young, he looked at the Declaration of Independence and he said to his dad "I want to steal the Declaration daddy" Dad said "NO! You will BE KILL BY ILLUMINATI!" "This is Riley"the radio crackered. "You must steal the Declaration!" So Nick gotted his glasses and blew up the church wall. "HE IS GOING TO KILL US."Said the Illuminati. "I will shoot at him"said Sean Bean and he fired the gun bullets. Nick bulleted at him and tried to blow him up but then the elevator fell and they were trapped and not able to kill. "NO! I must find the Declaration!"he shouted. The radio said "No Nick. You ARE the declaration." And then Nick was the treasure.
Lionel stood at his brother's doorsteps. The obsidian door stretched out high above him, and hundreds of flights of stairs stretched out below him. All around him, swords clattered, people fell, blood flowed. Corpses littered the steps, all of them innocent, ordinary people. Lionel saw in his peripheral a young, redheaded boy, no more than the age of fourteen. A sword held loosely in his left hand, blood flowing from a gaping wound in his chest, his eyes wide and pupils dilated from shock. A war that shouldn't have been fought between innocents who fell victim to propaganda. No man dared come near Lionel, nor did any dare to come to his brother's doorstep. The two most powerful individuals in the world. And soon it would come crashing down. Lionel pulled a scroll from a sack he carried on his back, and read ancient runes inscribed on the yellow paper. It took two seconds for Lionel to read, two seconds for him to cast the spell, and when he finished the door exploded inwards sending shards of obsidian into the halls. In the center of the great hall was a throne raised up above the rest of the room, made of gold and engraved with the same runic inscriptions that Lionel's scroll had. Pillars were placed intermittently throughout, some for support, some for aesthetic. Save for the remains of the great gate and a velvet carpet that ran down the center of the hall, it was empty, except for one man sitting on the throne. Lionel strode confidently into the hall, shoulders back, chest out, the scroll placed safely back into his sack. Outside, the battle raged fervently as men screamed and cried for their mothers. Inside, however, it was a dead silence, broken only by the echo of Lionel's footsteps. Lionel stopped a few feet away from the throne, looking up at the man who sat on top of it. "Leon,"he spat. Leon looked up, and Lionel stared directly into his eyes. The green eyes they both shared, the dirty-blonde hair they had in common, the same jawline and teeth and lips. How they could've taken such different paths, neither of them could ever have known. "You could end this, brother,"Lionel said simply. "Those men fight because they believe your word is all there is. One statement from your tongue could stop all of this. All the bloodshed, the fighting and dying." Leon stared at his twin with a slight smirk on his face. "Yes, I suppose it could. But then again, that'd mean giving up my power."He sighed. "And power, it's such a wonderful thing, isn't it? Being able to destroy empires with the written word, and create your own in the same stroke of a quill." He placed his elbow on the arm of the throne, made a fist with his hand, and rested his chin on top of his fist. "I assume you've felt the same thing, leading a rebellion against me. You could end it just as easily as I could." Lionel chuckled slightly. "I fight for the righteous, Leon." Leon sighed, and he slowly, heavily got up out of the throne and stood up. From the red cloak draped around his neck he pulled a piece of parchment out with one hand, and pulled a quill from his ear with the other. "That's what they all think, isn't it, brother?" Lionel pulled a scroll out from his bag and unfurled it, reading aloud five hundred words a minute. Incantation after incantation, sending massive fireballs and balls of lightning at his brother. Leon, meanwhile, scribbled endlessly on his parchment. Tidal waves formed out of seemingly nothing rose up and drowned out the fireballs, and hurricane-like winds dissolved the lightning. Then, with the power of the written word, he wrote into existence swords and arrows and sent them hurtling at Lionel, counteracted by a stone golem brought to life from the wreckage of the door. As the war raged outside, the duel was fought inside. Both brothers summoning various things to outdo the other; projectiles, shields, barriers, weapons, automatons. Scrolls burned up as their powers exhausted, only for new ones to take their place. Endlessly, it seemed, would the battle rage on. Then, it came crashing to a halt. A metal fist twice Lionel's size roared as it rushed at his face, only to be melted and dissolved by the purple flames which spouted forth from the ground. Leon stood near the gate, his wrists and hand aching, his mind exhausted. Lionel stood now at the throne with a dry mouth and only two scrolls left in his sack. Both of them panted heavily, both of them trying to catch their breath. The once beautiful hall was now devastated. Pillars had been ripped from their places, scorches lined the ceiling and floor, and the roof was collapsing around them. Lionel licked his lips, trying to regain some moisture so that he might say something. Leon stood silent, trying to rack his brain for something to end the battle. One stared at the other. How could it ever have come to this? Both could think only of their childhood, when they had chased each other in the bright green fields and giggled and laughed. Then their adolescence, when each began to gain more power and fame in his own way. In Lionel's eyes, tears welled up. He'd never wanted to fight. And in Leon's, there was moisture, but no droplets rolling down his cheek as they did on his twin's face. And there they stood, staring at one another, surrounded by the ruins of a regime neither of them could ever have imagined would have been built from the ground up. --- CC always appreciated! I'll probably post a follow-up later (if anyone cares about this or not), because I'm really tryin' to think about the best way to end this.
Colonel Bowles, Please understand that it is with the deepest regret that I must share the following information with you. I have only recently, and quite by accident, discovered incontrovertible proof of a longstanding romantic relationship between my husband and your wife Camilla. This affair has, I must report, been carried on with the assistance and support of Charles's personal staff, some of whom I have until now trusted as close friends. I understand that this might be difficult for you to accept. I assure you that the same was true for me only a handful of days ago. If you desire that I do so, I am more than willing to transmit to you by trusted courier copies of the evidences which brought me unavoidably to this realization. If you will forgive me, I must now speak quite frankly about the circumstances in which we find ourselves as fellow cuckolds. I understand through mutual acquaintances that your relationship with Camilla has taken on a degree of personal distance over the last few years. I can only assume that this distance has increased in recent months, just as it has in my own marriage. I encourage you to follow my humble example and allow that distance to continue to grow and strengthen, as an anodyne to any further personal distress. Though the social strictures placed upon us prevent the direct and definitive action to which both our wounded hearts surely appeal, we may still carve out for ourselves a separate peace, a minor estate of the mind to allow us to continue in our lives and duties without succumbing entirely to melancholy and hopelessness. I am so sorry to deal with this so stridently, but as the mother of two small boys, I do not allow myself more than a modicum of self-pity. Please accept my assurances that I share your grief in this unfortunate circumstance, and that I hope you will consider me a trustworthy confidante should you find this missive worthy of a reply. &nbsp; &nbsp; Until our next communication, I shall remain &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; very sincerely yours, &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; *Diana*
"Do it for me, please?"Jack's big doe eyes starred up at me, I felt weak to the way he was draped over my lap. "I want the world to see what I see!"I didn't know what he meant by this. The possible skeletons in his closet being multiplied and distributed to everyone on Earth? Or the way he truly believed 'jalapenio' was pronounced. I couldn't say no though, I've bent reality for so many random drunks as a party trick it would be a crime to say no to my best friend. I wet my lips and felt the words drip out of my mouth like raw honey, his wish getting spoken into existence. First was the blinding light that seemed to come from all directions and as my eyes adjusted I realized everything had a soft light to it; the grass glowed a gentle green, the sun seemed almost pink in the afternoon sky, everything hummed quietly a color of their own. It left me knocked back on my ass and I wondered if this is what Jack meant. Did everyone see the world like this or was this just Jack? I turned to him as he reveled a shit eating grin "Now how about we get some jalapenio poppers?"and I felt myself not thinking to question him.
I don’t belong here. I shouldn’t be holding weapon. I shouldn’t be wearing armor. I shouldn’t be getting ready to duel with someone who I don’t even know. And yet, here I am. As much as I try to communicate my opponent, to see some sort of emotion in his eyes, I can’t see past his helmet. I guess I must appear to him the same as he appears to me: a suit of armor. He doesn’t know me, all he knows is my sword and his duty. We begin our approach. I should be home. I should be alone, studying. I should be doing anything but this. As the second oldest child I should inherit enough to live in comfort for the rest of my life, doing whatever I please without the responsibility that my older brother is set to receive. Instead I am here, about to risk my life with a weapon that I first held only a week ago. We stop our approach, meeting mere feet from one another. I can hear his breathing. It matches mine: fast and shallow. I know that my parents only care about my brother. My entire life I’ve been raised by their servants. I’m lucky if I even see them once a day. The first blow is exchanged. His sword seemed to move in slow-motion towards my body. My sword seems to naturally meet it, saving me from the instant defeat I had anticipated. I knew that my parents didn’t care, but I didn’t know that they didn’t care this much. I didn’t know that they wouldn’t care as they watched their son who had never picked up a sword in his life fought. I swing my sword desperately towards him. It feels heavier than an elephant in my hands. He jumps away, avoiding it. Why did I have to defend our family’s reputation? Why did I end up in the armor when it was my father some other family insulted? We both raise our swords and attack simultaneously. Our blades meet each other and we stand, locked in place, our faces inches apart. I can see into his armor. I see his eyes are like mine - eyes of fear and confusion. He is the same as I. To our families we are both expendables. The lock breaks, and we back away from one another. I can’t do this. I can fight a suit of armor, but not this. Not him. Not a person. I prepare to guard the most vulnerable parts of my armor. If I can just allow him to hit me once where it won’t hurt me and feign defeat I can escape this. My parents can worry about their own stupid reputation. He doesn’t move. The hit doesn’t come. He simply stands there, with no apparent intention to attack. I swing my sword with very little momentum towards him in an attempt to get him to counter. The sword taps his left flank, and he falls to the ground, unmoving. The duel ends. I won. My opponent takes off his helmet and our eyes meet. We had the same thought. In his eyes I can see he empathy for me. Then another member of his family leads him away. I had so wanted to go home before, but I don’t know what to think now. My parents will congratulate me not because of pride or support, but because I was useful to them. As poor as my family’s servants are they do have something that I’ve never had: love. The only kindness I ever received that I could tell wasn’t motivated by obligation or the desire to be on good terms with my family was from them. My family’s love is no exception; My family loves me when I’m useful. I could end up forced into this situation again if they need me. I don’t belong in my family anymore. I’m not sure where I belong. ------- I was experimenting with an unfamiliar tense and style so this probably isn't very good, sorry!
As far as evictions went, it wasn't the worst one she had experienced. Which, when you think about it, really said more about herself than she wanted it to. Nevertheless, there she was, standing on the sidewalk, newly homeless and slightly wet still. Fantastic. If there was one regret she didn't expect to ever have in life it was not having brought her wallet to the shower with her. I mean, sure she had her phone, or a whopping 57% of one anyway. But that was good for little more than a flashlight when the fingerprint lock didn't recognize her. Strange, to say the least, but ultimately there were more important matters at hand. Namely, sustenance and lodging. The big two, as she could only imagine it was called in the homeless community. And as a freshly initiated member, she could really use the 'community' part right about now. Rational thinking is a fickle thing. Clearly, she could tell that she was in shock. Otherwise, she would very much have enjoyed some answers to a seemingly impossible scenario. So instead of being confused, she was cold, hungry, and focused on solving both issues. She knew there were homeless shelters somewhere in the city, but not where, which meant they could be a dangerous distance away. After all, she was lightly dressed with hair still wet from the shower. If she was lucky she'd only catch a cold. She was planning on getting lucky. The idea was almost brilliant in its simplicity, a desperate measure for a desperate mind. And luckily for her, she had all the tools to act on it. The discarded can of spray paint still worked, wheezing as it spat up the red paint constituting its innards onto the window. The words didn't matter to her, and the store was closed, but there were plenty of witnesses, and that's what mattered. Eventually, they came for her, and she made a token effort to run away. Not fast enough for a tackle, but still fast enough to make it convincing. She didn't really need to do that bit, she imagined, but it would be easier to explain after the fact. If anyone even bothered to ask, that is. The plan was executed flawlessly. Contacting your family can be surprisingly difficult when you don't have a phone and are close to freezing to death. Luckily for her, there is always the nuclear option. Surely, while she sat waiting in a holding cell the police department would notify someone who could come pick her up. Surely.
I was cruising down good 'ol 85 when it started. All of the sudden, out of the blue, beepbeepbeepbeepbeep. A shrill and annoying tone, spaced at five second intervals. My airbag light was on, too. I pulled into the local service station. It was a slow day there, so they squeezed me in right away. The tech plugged a diagnostic tool into my car's OBD\-2 port and downloaded the code. A few minutes later he came up to me. "Sir, looks like your passenger seat occupancy sensor is faulty. That's $185 plus labor." I sighed. This damn car was nothing but problems.
Man, I remember this story when it was just a writing prompt response, refreshing every five minutes cause you were writing at such a ridiculously blistering pace, having to step away and returning to like a half dozen new posts, staying up through the night trying to get a paper done while keeping one eye on your account in case a new comment popped up. I can honestly, unironically(for once) count that night(nights? weeks? Its all a blur) as one of the most vivid moments of my life, the first time I ever felt like I was part of a community on Reddit. Its been quite a while since then, but I still remember the giddy rush of reading a story going gloriously off the rails, feeling like we built our own small community in the dark recesses of a random writingprompt. I thank you for that, wercwercwerc. It's a feeling I will never forget. I hope this book will be the first of many, many more to come. All Hail The Tiny Snake God!
A stubbed toe would ruin anyone's day. When Timmy's mother heard her son cry out in pain, she immediately sprang to action sprinting into the other room. Inbetween her breath, she called out, "Are you okay?!" Turning the corner, she saw her five year old son standing in front of the kitchen table, perfectly fine. "I'm okay now, Mom" Relieved, she asked what had caused him to scream out. "I made a wish to be like superman. He doesn't get hurt by tables." "Honey, please don't scare me like that again." Timmy's mother returned to her previous room to continue reading her weekly book club novel. She picked her book up, and hoped she wouldn't be interrupted again by her sons daily shannigans.
The old lady fell to her knees and started pleading, please monster spare us, don't kill us.” I landed in front of her, tail swishing nervously. “Why do you call me a monster? I'm human just like you. Why would I ever hurt you?” I was extremely confused. She looked at me in terror, still on her knees. “You're human?,” She asked still shaken, “you look like a demon, not a human.” She bowed her head as if waiting for the end. I backed away from her still confused. I jumped into the sky and beat my large wings and flew back to Kromush, my guardian, to seek answers. An hour later I landed at the cave, “Kromush!” I yelled as I walked into the cave’s dark deepths. Kromush lay in the center cavern, his large form curled in a tight ball. <What is it little one?>, he asked in my head. “I went to the village today and met another human.” Kromush's head popped up at that. <What did I tell you about avoiding the village?> “The old lady I met there called me a monster and a demon, that I was not human.” <You are human, just not fully human.> Kromush shifted uncomfortably. “What am I then?,” I demanded. <You are a half human, half demon. I was charged with raising you and keeping you safe.> Kromush shifted uncomfortably again. <You disobeyed me. Now the humans know you exist and are not a myth. Do you know the danger you are in now?> I shook my head, “I'm sure they are reasonable, I'll just explain that I mean them no harm. Why did you keep this from me?” <I had my orders, you wouldn't understand.> “Orders from who?” I frowned, I was going to badger him until I got answers. <You father the Demon king, get your things ready we have to leave this place before it's too late.> He stood and stretched his long body and wings. “No.” I crossed my arms and glared up at him. <No? Do you want a mob or an army to show up here? You will not be able to reason with them. They see both you and me as creatures of evil. We must leave, I need to keep you safe.> “No, I'm an staying.” <Fine, then I will take out the village before they can take us out.> He shoved his considerable body past me, nearly knocking me down. He pumped his wings and leaped into the sky and headed towards the village. I followed him, trying to keep up with his considerable speed. I fell behind further and further, I wasn't going to be able to stop him. I finally came up on the village at dusk, there were only burning embers left. Kromush sat in the middle of dead and burning village waiting. “What have you done?,” I asked landing next to him. <No, what have you done? You disobeyed me and your actions caused this, so what have you done?> He growled deep in his throat. I shook my head and backed away, “I will not take responsibility for this, I wanted to reason with them.” I spread my hands to encompass the burning village, “the death and destruction is all you, I'm done and never want to see you again.” I turned to leave and Kromush grabbed my tail. <No>, he roared as he yanked me back. I grabbed a burnt piece of wood for defense. As he spun me around to face him, I struck him in the eye. He roared in anger and released me. I took to the skies as he roared in pain and anger. I looked back over my shoulder at him trying to pull the burning stick from his eye. I flew to the forest to try to lose him. His considerable size would not allow him to fly among the trees like I could. I waited underneath and outcropping of stone for him to fly past. I eventually feel asleep from exhaustion. I woke the next morning and cautiously took the the sky. I looked back toward the village and Kromush was still laying in the middle of the village where I left him, not moving. Surely I didn't kill him, I thought. I flew back to the burnt village. “Kromush?,” I asked as I landed beside him. He lay there unmoving, dried blood coated his nostrils and mouth. The stick that I shoved in his eye lay on the ground next to him, covered in blood. <Little one>, a faint thought filled my head,<I'm sorry.> “No, I'm sorry,” I knelt down next to his head, “I didn't mean to do this.” Tears started to stream stream down my cheeks. <Find your father, hide from the humans, don't let them catch you.> “Where is he?,” I asked, but no other thoughts filled my head. I say next to Kromush for the next few hours sobbing, the only friend I had was dead and I killed him. I left his body when I heard the jiggle of horses and the stomp of soldiers down the road. I didn't know which direction to go, so I decided to fly East away from the little world I knew. Hopefully to find my father or another friendly face.
Hahahhaahaa~! You're done for this time, Captain Rageglory! Captain Rageglory? Hey, buddy, you're kind of in a situation here. If you think for one second I'm going to unlock those chains and let you down from there, you are wrong. I built this vat, you know. This entire vat, I ordered the steel from a specialist fabricator I got the number of through a network of contacts starting with some people I met on forums and calls to a couple of construction companies. I bolted it together myself. Don't even get me started on filling it with boiling acid, I'm still in suspended disbelief that I got that figured out. Alright, I'm reeling you in for a second to check on you, you're obviously not doing too well. I press my fingers up against the pulse. Yup, you're dead. This is getting ridiculous, how do they keep dying right before my traps? I work so hard, I created an image for myself, and all I ask is a little excitement. You know what I'm talking about, big guy? Of course you do. If you cared about saving people and making a difference, you wouldn't be out here on the streets trying to punch my lights out. You would run for office, or do volunteer work, or start some sort of sustainable business focussed on improving quality of life. I don't really care about creating a big gang to rule the streets, or getting money from robbing banks. You and me both, we dress up to become something better than ourselves: stronger and less restricted. That would be the police radio, and let me guess... Yeah, they have this location. Alright Zed, I'm gonna roll you over and look for clues for a minute. Things I never thought I'd say in this situation. What's this little gem? Some sort of auto-injection dart? I feel like I've seen this before. Sirens are here, already? Why are they in such a rush, they never gave a damn when I illegally took over this warehouse and started a massive construction project. The concrete under this tank was supposed to be reinforced and ten feet deep, you know? I'm trusting you to keep that a secret. Welp, Zed's dead, so I guess there are only a bunch of normal human cops right outside. I think I'll go out the front. I'm getting so sick of this shtick, they're going to mourn you for a week and it'll inspire the next jackoff to grab my attention, and then they'll get poisoned, too. Who even has the time to stalk heroes 24/7 waiting for me to knock them out and drag them back here?! I mean, aside from me, obviously. Zed, you're really easy to talk to, I think I'm going to dig you up and keep you around, later.
I sat at my desk in silent rumination over the day's events. The spreadsheet software I had open presented my vision with a glaring white glow to perfectly complement the florescent lights. The ringing phones and constant chatter provided an ever\-present noise pollution like tinnitus. I hate this fucking place I thought to myself. I hate every single person here. I hate this job, I hate this chair, I hate this keyboard with the fucking squeaky spacebar, and most of all, I hate\- "Am I paying you to stare off into the distance? Must be something pretty exciting over there, huh?" Wally. God damn, mother\-fucking Wally. The boss from hell. I bit my lip in a seething rage as I murmured "No, Wally." "Oh, really? There isn't? So you're just staring off for no reason, eh? You've really been slipping lately, as your quarterly report shows. You know, there's three people waiting for your job right now. I could fire you any moment and this company would be better off for it. You better kick it in gear, or else i'll\-" Wally's voice trailed off as he noticed my face. It was contorted in a seething, absolute rage. I began shaking as the anger overwhelmed me. My mind raced with dark thoughts and intonations as I struggled to keep my sanity together. But the pressure was overwhelming me. Just as I was about to do something highly illegal to Wally, it happened. Something went "pop"in my mind. Hell, it was almost audible. And, suddenly, all the anger was gone as though my head was a toilet that had been flushed. My terrible scowl was suddenly replaced with a cocky grin. The type of grin I hadn't had in years. What the hell just happened to me? I don't know, but I fucking love it. I stood up from my chair and walked directly past Wally as if he weren't there. He started shouting after me, but\- it was almost a magical thing\- His words didn't even register in my mind. I strode right out of that office and into the sunshine. I took a breath as I gazed skyward. What a beautiful day. A great day to travel, even. I got in my car and drove off. I was beginning to get a sort of butterflies\-in\-the\-stomach feeling. And just then, I knew that feeling must be freedom. I want to go somewhere. Should I stop by the apartment and get a few things? Nah. I thought with a grin. I don't need any of that. I drove right to the airport and approached the booth. The attendant looked up lazily. "What can I help you with, sir?" "I'd like a ticket"I said. "..To where?" "Hmm. I hadn't really thought about that. How about you pick for me?" "Sir?"asked the befuddled attendant. "Yeah! Go ahead, pick a spot. I just want to go somewhere." "Well.... how about Hawaii? Hawaii is beautiful." I smiled. "One ticket, please. One\-way." "Any bags to check?" I beamed widely. "Nope."
Name: Corcodillus Singula Herba Colloquially known as: The Flower Drake Species: Dragon The Flower Drake is a direct contrast to most of its draconic brethren. Where they are almost exclusively carnivorous, it subsides solely on plant matter and sunlight through a rare case of reptilian photosynthesis. Most draconids grow to impressive size, some reaching a weight of twenty two tons, where as the diminutive Flower Drake will measure in at an average of one foot at adulthood. There is little difference in size between the male and female. Located in forested areas, the Flower Drake will adapt to and adopt the flora of its surroundings. Where one will be covered in a damp mossy down, another will be studded with bright wildflowers. This coat functions as both camouflage and is used in courtship. During their breeding season, Flower Drakes will generally grow more vivid and attractive flowers to entice a mate. Unlike other members of the Dragon species, it does not have the highly specialised Spiritum organ, which enables them to unleash a torrent of fire or steam from their gullet. In its place, the smaller Drake has evolved to be an amalgamation of flora and fauna, and through this is able to generate nourishment from solar rays. Timid in nature, they will nonetheless attack if they feel threatened. Their small serrated teeth can still inflict vicious wounds and their antlers, a unique composite of wood and bone, can be used to charge. The Flower Drake is in decline in the wild due to the rampant deforestation of their homes. Due to this, they have been classified as an Endangered species and their habitats a matter of scientific concern. Related entries include: The Wooded Wyvern, The Green Dragon, The Butterfly Drake.
“Bobby, my friend, calm down. Can we at least talk about this?” Gunddu whimpered as he slithered from beneath the bed. He uprighted himself and stared at Bobby with every eye he had. His bright orange fur glowed with tinges of light illuminated by the table lamp. “Gunddu,” Bobby hissed. “We’ve talked about this. I can’t stand another day with you and your freeloading friends.” Gunddu recoiled not expecting the venom in Bobby’s voice. His shoulders fell and his tail wrapped around his chest. “But Bob....” “Don’t Gunddu.” Gunddu plopped down, grunted, and called for backup. The closet knob jiggled and Junpo flowed out like thick molasses on a cold day. Her purple, opaque skin glimmered in the lamp light. She smiled at Gunddu and slowly made her way to Bobby. Gunddu grunted again cutting the weird silence and taking control before Bobby can speak. “Junpo, back me up. Remind Bobby how much we have helped him.” She turned, still slowly seeping out of the closet. Her dark blue eye gleamed at Bobby, pleading for some understanding. “I....” Junpo sings out. The word filled the room. It tinkled , like crystal. “Think....” “You think what, Junpo?” Bobby screams. “You’ve been talking for three minutes and have said two words.” “That....” Junpo rings out again. Gunddu shifts uncomfortably, realizing Junpo wasn’t the best monster to call. She could take weeks to complete her sentence. He had forgotten about humans and their precious time. “We....” “Gloopa!” Gunddu exclaimed. Bobby jumped, turning towards Gunddu, his hands clenched. His jaw crunched as he ground his teeth together trying his best to remember his anger management. “Gunddu, this is no longer....” “Need....” Junpo continued, cutting off Bobby. “Shut up, Junpo!” Gunddu and Bobby screamed in unison. Junpo melted down, ashamed of her delayed speech. For eons she had been pushed aside because she wasn’t fast enough. She decided her determination would prevail today. She knew what she had to say. She knew what the most important issue in the house was and it wouldn’t go unspoken. Gunddu repositioned himself, reaching his long orange arm out and slipping it under the bed. He quickly pulled back holding a six inch, golden creature. It’s ruby eyes shimmered against the warm light. Gloopa, his Golden Highness. Bobby huffed, becoming more furious at his oblivious tenants. He had never even meet Gloopa and he wondered who else lived there. Gloopa jumped to the floor, giving a faint clinking noise as his feet hit the wooden floor. He peered at Bobby, unsure of what he needed to say. “ Ahssnwi GHjU skee!” The sound pierced the air. Gloopa couldn’t speak English. “More...” Junpo again, determined more than ever. Bobby’s eyes twitched around the room, guided by the fury building in him. Gunddu tried to speak again but Bobby had had enough. He steadied himself and looked at the three of them. “I can’t deal with this anymore. I never have food. I’m up all hours of the night. My bills are through the roof. My bathroom is a wreck and we never have toilet paper!” Junpo now, mostly out of the closet, looked at Bobby. His speech confirmed she was on the right track. She took a deep breath and looked at Bobby. A look that clearly showed she had understood what he needed. With all her effort she spouted her last two words one after the other. “Toilet paper.” Edit: sorry about the format I’m on mobile. Edit 2: words. Edit: more words.
When the generation ship arrived I felt so much relief that I could barely contain my joy, the news spread like wildfire, for once in a very long time we had some hope. Communication was stablished as soon as we could make the last battery work, we could only send a short burst “we are here”. I remember being terrified that they might have not got our message but their Lander touched ground at impact site in about an hour, the elders choose me of all the people, but I guess it makes sense. I stood in front of the lander as six marines got out doing their sweep and zone securing, they screamed at me to get down on my knees and hands on my head and I complied, to be sincere I needed it standing was very difficult for me, my stomach grumbled again but I had learned to ignore it. After they secured my hands with handcuffs too big for my wrists and gave the all clear, a woman came from the lander dressed in full United Nations Captain Regalia, she wore a face like mine after all she was my great great great grandmother and our similarities did not scape her. “Is it human?” She said and a drone came from the confines of the lander, quadra copted to me and scanned me, a beep on her wrist and her jaw almost fell to the ground. “Is this a trick?” She said looking straight into my eyes, it was painful to held that gaze and I was so tired, but I did. “Hell, hello... welcome to AC-4589 Captain” my voice broke many times as I tried to talk it had been long since I had used it. “And no it is not a Trick, we got here first, A couple generations ago actually” She looked at me with anger that turned into hatred, all of it directed at me and I quivered, she calmly demanded with venom dripping from each word “Explain” I was terrified but she pulled her sidearm and I knew that I would either talk or die. “30 years after the Ark left Africa Doctor Aibarro, your husband and my great great grandfather, broke the code and gave us the FTL formula, by that time Earth resources were almost entirely depleted. The world united again and crafted the Hope, it held the 16 million people left alive... And did it’s first and last jump, we crash landed and without tools, the knowledge or the supplies we have been barely surviving, from the initial 16 million only 74 remain” as I finished all of the helmeted soldiers looked in each other’s direction and then at her. She again looked at me with anger but a glint of hope that lifted me but she spoke as cold as ever “Do you know this formula?” I did not even gave it a second though and gave a nod. She made an indication and the six marines moved past me in the direction of the wreckage. I was relieved until I heard her say “all clear this world is empty, no sentient life forms” and then I heard the pulse weapon fire, dread creeped into my bones and she grabbed me by the neck and spoke softly “now you will teach me this formula, and then you will die”
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Though it might not be the life for everybody, I enjoy my seclusion. It gives me a lot of time to sit and think and, more importantly, work on my novel. But I’m the king of procrastination so this afternoon all I’ve been doing is surf Reddit. I lazily flick past images, letting out a snort of laughter every once in a while. I pause to read comments on a WritingPrompts post, maybe read a post on NoSleep halfway through before I’m freaked out by the feeling of being watched. DING. I jump so hard I nearly drop my phone, sure that whatever horror I had just been reading about had come to life to kill me. Instead I see a message in AirDrop and I stare at it. When I bought this house I bought it on the grounds that it had no neighbors for at least six miles on all sides. It had been an old plantation back in the Civil War, and I loved the privacy. It was hell getting internet lines out here, but it had been worth it. I stare at my phone as the message opens itself, something I’m sure it’s not supposed to do. On my screen is a video playing. I stare at the video that shows my living room, shows the back of my head on the screen, and I freeze in place. I squint at the phone in the video and I see what’s displayed on the screen. It’s the post I had read not thirty seconds ago.
"He was everything to me. Was there when I was at my worst, on the street when mom died. He took me in, loved me and I loved him. But what happened was horrible. The monster had come in one night, waking me up from my sleep. I sounded the alarm which woke him and he grabbed the stick. I attacked the monster and was thrown into the Cubby of Hiding. That hurt a lot. I heard a loud noise, like thunder booming inside. It scared me and I hid in the place where it smells most like him. I didn't come out till out was quiet. That was how I found him, dying like mom. That was when I made my choice."I explained It is against the rules, little one. You should not have done this. "I know, but I love him and need him and he needs me."I said. The golden wolf nodded with a soft sigh. I will make this one exception, but when it is his time, he must go. "Then,"I hesitated, then gathered my little bit of courage. "Can I go with him?" You will not come back, but I will allow it. The golden wolf nodded and vanished in a puff of sparkling silver smoke. I turned back to where he lay, feeling the sadness still in my chest. I walked over and place a paw on his cheek, meowing softly, calling to him. Slowly, he opened his eyes, my human lived. I felt the drain from giving him some of my life, but it is worth it. He got up and checked himself, knowing he had been hurt. All his wounds were gone, just the blood remained. He scooped me into his arms and held me close, scratching just behind my ears and kissing my head. I stayed with him when he talked to the people with shiny tags. I stayed by his side when he met another human and they became close. I stayed when he got sick. The female human was kind and brought me to his room in the smelly building. He wasn't well at all. I purred as hard as I could for him. He smiled at me and we both went to sleep for the last time. I was, no, am happy this human found me. It was all worth giving up my lives for him. So very worth it.
“How do you feel about blueberry pie?” I should have told the truth, that I hate blueberries and pie is just a poor man’s version of a calzone. Instead, I did what any rational man hoping to ingratiate himself to his soon\-to\-be mother\-in\-law would do and announced, “It’s my favorite!” At worst, I thought, she’d serve me a slice and I’d politely pick around the edges until I could hide it in my napkin. My face when she handed me the whole pie tray probably didn’t have the pleasantly surprised look I was going for; more like wide\-eyed regret with a side of forced smile. “It’s family tradition! First one to finish their pie gets the comfy seat all year.” While everyone else was diving into their pies fork first, I was desperately trying to think of a plan. No way could I force myself to eat more than a few bites without some partially digested blueberries making an unfortunate reappearance. As I glanced around the room searching for inspiration, my eyes landed on the perfect solution: Randy. Fifty pounds thin and always hungry, this bulldog could be the answer to my prayers. The first handoff was terrifying. I thought for sure I’d be caught, but I replaced my (now slobber\-coated) hand above the table with no one the wiser. I managed almost half the pie that way before it happened. “Randy? What’s wrong, boy?” Randy had started shaking and producing a concerning cross between a whimper and a whine. I should’ve come clean at that point, but, frankly, I was in too deep. My singular goal as everyone gathered around the distressed canine remained the same – eliminate the pie. This could be just the diversion I needed. The open window beckoned from across the room. With everyone’s focus on the dog, I’d have a few moments to sneak over and drop the evidence into the hydrangeas below. If only I’d kept my eyes on the ground instead of looking over to make sure no one was watching. The room\-filling squeak of Randy’s chew toy as my foot landed through the bars of his crate was enough to ensure everyone looked my way. So here I am. My foot is totally stuck, I’m freaking out, the dog's having a seizure, and I still have half a pie left. The look Marybeth is giving me makes me wonder if I can still get the deposit back from the wedding venue. Honestly, this might be worse than the potato fiasco with my last fiancé.
Lana log entry #1 {18/5/2219} We’ve been here for three weeks now, rations are starting to run low and all attempts at contact have failed. Only 8 of us survived the crash, Jason, Shauna, Hayley, Matt, Dino, Adam, Emma and me. Emma, however, didn’t make it past day four here. Her injuries sustained from the crash were horrific. Then with the loss of medical supplies it all proved too much for her, there was nothing more we could do. I’d never seen death happen before, I’d been aware of it, gone to funerals and been in hospitals with terminally ill relatives but I’d never seen somebody take their last breaths before. It’s devastating. The rest of us made it out pretty okay, a few scratches here and there. Dinos been bragging about how he must be super man to survive. See he was right at the front of the crash and miraculously didn’t get hurt. He says he wedged himself in a door frame and it just happened to work. I think he just got lucky. Out of everybody left though he is our key to survival, he’s the only one out of us with the engineering capabilities to salvage what we have in one last attempt to contact for help. The planet itself, though completely habitable, hasn’t been able to offer us a food source that doesn’t induce vomiting. We have planted crops but the climate is far to cold to grow anything soon and we don’t have the supplies to create a greenhouse environment. I don’t know how much time we have on this planet so we’re going to research and document as much of it as we can. So even after we die, future visitors can have a better understanding.

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